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

into her chest, raging like a roaring lion. The entirety of the city had been shut down.

Annette’s child was probably being smothered in that moment.

It was over.

Lucia returned, beautiful and lithe, her arms full of fresh frothy white material, and watching her reflection in the window, Brenya couldn’t find it in her to hate the female. The foreign Omega had said it herself—she had come here for the best life. Being mated to Ancil would be the worst.

Though Lucia clearly didn’t understand that yet.

“Did he tell you he will murder his son? Annette’s life will be next.”

Compunction soured an angry expression to one of discomfiture. “No. But I will not lie and pretend that such an outcome has not occurred to me. The customs and laws regarding Omegas in this Dome are centuries behind the progress of Greth. I cannot be expected to change them overnight, especially when our Commmodorina does nothing with her influence. You have done nothing for any of us—your Omega guests locked away for these past weeks? We have not been able to even speak with one another. But, why should you concern yourself with your kind? You lay in filth and refuse to wash yourself.”

There was only one thing Brenya might offer. “I will request that Jacques send you my honey.”

Confused, Lucia cocked her head. “What does that even mean?”

Brenya turned away from the view. “It means I can do nothing for you.”

“You could take a bath.”

She could. Brenya could do this one and only thing for the woman who had inadvertently led to the destruction of two innocents. “It will be the only thing I ever do for you, Lucia.”

“Fair enough.” Setting the fresh gown on a nearby divan, Lucia tossed her sheet of shining black hair. “And know this. At no time did I suggest we be friends.”

“That is good. The Commodore has tortured all my friends.”

It was as if the female was finally starting to understand. Painted lips parted as if she might speak, but only silence grew between them. Turning from the view of a city she loved, Brenya went to the lavatory and stepped down into the steaming tub.

The water was warm, a comfort. The company was anything but.

18

Despite her acerbic jabs, Lucia had taken great pains in assuring Brenya was scrubbed clean, patted dry with soft towels, her hair wrung out and dried with a moisture transfer unit. It was then combed into order.

Chastising Brenya for failing to take care of her mottled skin, the Omega went so far as to dig through Jacques' cabinets in search of bandages and unguent.

Chin pinched in between the woman’s pointed, lacquered nails, Brenya allowed Lucia to turn her head and expose the wound that refused to heal.

One glance, and the foreigner said, “This is infected.”

Brenya didn’t care and said as much.

A light smack came to her cheek, Lucia turning up her nose. “You should care. You will be judged on this mark for the rest of your life. It will be captured in paintings and projections. Talked about by an entire civilization throughout their history, and there is already the unfortunate issue of your face.”

“How I look doesn’t matter. Omegas are meant to be people.” And really, what was the point of beauty? It didn’t do anything. Just as disfigurement had done nothing. Jacques knotted her either way.

With a mean laugh, Lucia chided her. “Whoever told you that lie has never lived as an Omega. I have five older sisters, all Omegas. To be one of us is to be always at war. With each other, with ourselves, all the while working hard to impress the Alphas. Do not think I say this to be cruel. Both my nose and eyes were improved so I might outshine rivals.” All of this was said as those sharp nails began to poke at the open, oozing wound. “There is an abscess that needs to be drained.”

No warning was offered to brace for the pain; Lucia just pinched the flesh of Brenya’s throat until an audible pop proceeded a stinking flow of puss. Despite the short-lived agony, instant relief followed, whatever needed purging drained, damaged skin sinking in on itself.

“Green.” Shaking her head as if blood and gore was nothing but another inconvenience, Lucia swabbed up and sanitized the mess. Next came unguent, followed by a large gauze patch, taped down so quickly it was obvious Lucia had training in such things. “It was poor taste for the Commodore to bite you twice when the first one was well-placed and in proportion to your neck and shoulder—exactly where gowns could be cut to highlight the claiming mark. For such a glamourous city, the men are a bit savage, aren’t they? That is what happens when there are no proper women available to tame their urges and keep them in line.”

Keep them in line? With what, a cattle prod?

Despite the tangle of her insides, the hurt of her outsides, and the sure feeling that all of this was a waste of time, Brenya found it in her to offer a single dry chuckle.

“You will see.”

Doubtful. After all, she was going to be judged for trying to free Jules Havel. And she already judged herself deeply for failing Annette again.

The loud, endlessly talking Lucia kept up a constant vocal stream of her every thought while simultaneously bandaging and dressing a woman who had no interest in responding.

But the work had been done, and done quickly—another heavy, uncomfortable dress hung from a shoulder that was swelling under the fabric. Kissing a throat that was oozing infection into a bandage.

A loud squawk from Lucia and Alpha guards swarmed the room. Brenya was surrounded by no less than eight prime Alphas, encased as they quickly ushered the pair of women down the halls. At her side, Lucia had no trouble with managing her skirts in the hurried gait; she didn’t struggle as Brenya did to keep all the fabric from twisting around her feet. She looked regal, bright-eyed.

While Brenya