Corrupted (Alpha's Claim Book 5) by Addison Cain (read more books txt) 📕

that dangerous void of the other person who was somehow there and somehow not.

When the cycle was finished and her throat was raw from sobbing, he removed the things, showing her that it bore no trace of blood. Chastising her for her lack of trust and overreaction.

That was to be her punishment when she needed correction, and also a boon. She would soon be able to take him up her ass in the way men sometimes preferred. And soon, it would give her only pleasure. Just as obedience would.

If she would only behave, he would say, she would learn that all he did was for her pleasure.

And she had wiped her nose, slinking off the bed. Staring at the floor, she nodded.

That was why there was a soft pillow atop her chair at their shared dinner.

He tried to chat with her as if another punishment had never happened. Already, he assured her she was utterly forgiven.

After she had calmed and accepted the endless throbbing soreness of being a female Omega, Brenya was able to slip back into the emotionless space of a Beta who had a Rebecca.

The Alpha across from her increased the volume of his purr as if pleased at her perusal, and stated for the second time, “I said, you seem unusually hungry.”

“Yes. I am very hungry.”

The demeanor of the man before her went from preening to assessing. “Yet you have eaten enough for a grown Alpha.”

That was true, and her belly did ache for it. But what did that matter? She hurt everywhere.

“Are you in pain?”

It’s not like he couldn’t see the bruises, the bite marks. It's not like he had not been the person to place the pillow she was sitting upon because her labia and anus were stinging and swollen. So she didn’t answer. The question had to be a rhetorical one.

Heavy male fingers trilled over the tabletop, Jacques’ voice terse. “Specifically in regards to your digestion. Are you in pain?”

Fork stabbed noodles and carried them to the waiting spoon so she might spin another bite.

Bringing his fist under his chin, the Alpha narrowed his eyes and leaned his weight forward. “You are ordered to tell me when you are uncomfortable.”

That was simple enough. “I am uncomfortable.”

Sighing, he threw his weight back into his chair, hand to the air as if beseeching the Gods for help. “Brenya, please try.”

More pasta was chewed, swallowed, to land in a distended belly that ached with emptiness. “I don’t understand what answer you want me to give you. You know I am in pain.”

“If you wish to discuss what happened earlier, then there is no answer required. The harder I fuck you, the closer you grow to accepting your place as my mate. When I am gentle, you are restless, lying under me with your eyes closed and your body limp. When I am rough, you engage.”

“You want me to fight back because I no longer say no when you mount me?” There were so many flaws in that statement, so much ugliness to it, that her stomach roiled and all the noodles were about to come up.

“You don’t touch me, mon chou.”

That was untrue. “I stimulate your erection with my hands in the exact way you taught me to. I use my mouth and tongue to fulfill the commands given as you move my head. I swallow.”

“What if I were to organize an event where you could watch an Alpha and Omega mate properly? Is that what you need to see to understand that you are more to me than the pretty pussy I knot? Your place is in the moment, seeking pleasure from your mate instead of tolerating.”

“At lunch, your coat had exactly twenty-four buttons. Now, you wear a coat with seven. Why are you wearing a different coat?” Why did Centrist do anything the way they did?

The male sighed. “Because it is dinner, Brenya. And that’s how things are done.”

And of course, that made no sense to her. “And if I touch you when you mount me, you’ll make it hurt less? Because that is how things are done?”

The man looked as if her words cut him, as if she were the one causing him pain. “You are tormenting me with your indifference.”

12

Considering the subject matter, a straightforward approach would serve better than manipulation. After all, the Commodore had tried the simplicity of allowing things to run their course, offering dignity to a man who deserved none. It would have been a simple thing for Jules Havel to eat his meals, the Beta mellowing after digesting the proper dosage for a male of his size and strength. The secondary buffer—beyond the joint pair-bond—necessary.

The entire fate of Bernard Dome was at stake—not to mention the safety of Jacques' precious mate.

And though he would prefer the ease of simply killing the man, Jules needed to be alive and well to serve his function. Protecting Brenya, and therefore all of his people, from Chancellor Shepherd’s threat of unleashing the virus.

But these exchanges were growing tiresome.

Or, lack of exchange, for a better word.

With Brenya back in their nest, knowing she slept fitfully without him, Jacques had rushed dressing to confront a burden, grabbing a midday coat instead of an evening jacket. The enlightening dinner he had just shared with his mate having changed everything regarding forward momentum in retaining her happiness.

It had made Jacques leave the peace of his bed to deal with a fiend where they would not be overheard by a sweetly chiming Omega soul.

Entering the viewing area outside the cell of his new rabid dog, Jacques adjusted his cuff. The male within undeserving of his full attention, considering his behavior. “Ambassador Havel, did you know there are no prisons in Bernard Dome? Until your arrival, they were unnecessary.”

The man behind the clear amorphous metal did not so much as turn his head to acknowledge that the Commodore had paid him yet another personal visit.

Jules Havel, mercenary and madman, simply sat on the floor and stared at