To Brenya’s utter astonishment, Jacques obeyed an order from a male oceans away. Low warning growl emanating from the Alpha at her side—the male aggressive in both posture and scent—gently untucking her fingers from his arm, he gave her a lingering look. One Brenya did not return.
Her attention was solely focused on the man who could command a Commodore.
This Shepherd stared at her with the same acute attention.
This man who Jacques confessed he could not defeat in war.
Which in itself was a bizarre concept.
Brenya had not put much consideration into the whispers Jacques lavished on her ear when she was under him. There had been greater concerns to address since she’d woken with her head split open for two relative strangers to pick through.
Staring, Brenya had already cataloged every last exposed scar on this Shepherd’s flesh, noted that his hair fell at altering angles. Patches of skin had been torn from his skull, upsetting the pattern of growth. His knuckles were ragged from repeated breaks and no doubt ached deep in the bone.
His nose had been damaged on more than one occasion.
Shepherd’s lips—like the pulled flesh under her eye—did not lay properly. His top lip dragged upward. But unlike her own face, Brenya did not imagine people would consider his imperfection a disfigurement.
Leaning his mass closer to the camera, Shepherd said, “You are not afraid of me.”
Maybe she should be, but she wasn’t. Not that she didn’t comprehend that her next breath was in this man’s worn hands. As Lucia said, Brenya had been brought here to be judged. Just not for the crime she had assumed.
Standing in the center of a crowded COM room, dressed in white that contrasted the black walls of a work zone. Men at her back, at her side, staring with scorn, entreating, smelling, ruining the air of the room with their blended loud stench.
The Ambassador, dressed in black, the simplicity of his clothing a beacon in a room of artifice and glitter, came to stand at her side.
Stealing the space that had been Jacques’ only moments before, he addressed the man across the seas. “She is not afraid of you.”
Maneuvering whatever it was that made up a pair-bond—an attachment that didn’t belong to him, that should not have existed at all—the Ambassador’s statement only disclosed a fraction of her thoughts. She was plenty afraid: for Annette, for the baby, for the friend whose name was not permitted to pass her lips.
Whatever Thólos had done to earn this man’s temper, Brenya would not see it done in Bernard Dome. Not because of her mistakes. “I am responsible for the situation regarding Ambassador Jules Havel. I did not know he was on the shi—”
The Alpha on the screen interrupted. “Do you understand what a pair-bond entails?”
No. “In theory. It has been described to me as something that would help me find happiness in what it means to be Omega. The moment it was forged was painful, and I have had little time to navigate the mental….” Brenya could not find a word. What did her opinion on a pair-bond matter anyway? “As I was saying, if I had not stolen Jules Havel’s ship, he would not be inside me. Nor should he be. Your Ambassador should be free to return home.” There was really no other way to put it.
Had her voice just wavered? Why was it so hot in that room?
A brush of another’s hand came to the back of Brenya’s fingers. A reminder that the man she had harmed stood at her side, that he was watching her in place of acknowledging the man.
The warmth in the room, the only scent that was not laced with tension, came from him.
Gathering up her fingers as if it were normal for them to touch, Jules held them tight.
As if he had not just mocked her when she’d come to save him. As if he had not refused to help good people leave a bad place.
Behind them, Jacques growled, he cursed, yet he didn’t step forward and tear them apart.
Brenya found then that her eyes had moved to where her fingers intertwined with a stranger’s, that she was confused at the fact that something so simple offered comfort. A man who had promised to hurt her.
It was clear who held all the power in the room. It wasn’t the Alpha on the screen, it was the Beta silently urging her to meet his poisonous gaze.
Eyes should not be that shade of blue.
“You were kind to me on the ship when I was frightened. You offered explanations no one else had. You kept your distance when I was, um…”
Jules, his voice deep and smooth as a flowing river, said, “In your first estrous, Brenya Perin.”
Cheeks red from shame, she nodded.
“The men of Bernard Dome do not understand what took place that day any better than you do. Through a stupid act of pride, in manipulating an experience that can never be undone, they have earned an enemy. And no, Brenya Perin, I will not grant them mercy. But I will demand that you understand that the consequence these men must face is not because you stole my ship when you thought to escape an abusive Alpha. It is not because you were ignorant of the situation in Thólos and the agreement between two governments that no aid might be offered to survivors of that fallen Dome.”
Soft threats in gentle words, no emotion or mental signal. A clear threat.
Because she was correct. No pair-bond would keep this man from hurting her.
Everyone was watching her, because whatever happened in this room hinged upon her completely. He was still holding her hand in both of his, and now she understood the gesture. It wasn’t comfort; it was control.
Of Jacques Bernard who could do nothing to prevent the Beta from touching her, though he seethed through the link.
Facing him fully to say what no male in the room had dared, she laid her free hand atop his grip and said what they had left to her. “Jules, what was done to you was wrong, and I am sorry for my part in it. I thought I could make it right, and I don’t truly understand what to offer or how to undo it. Teach me how, and I will try. But if you attempt to hurt my people, I will kill you.”
“Ms. Perin,” the man on the monitor with a voice of coarse rocks and scars called. “A moment of your time, please.”
She would not have looked at him, not as she waited for Jules to address a threat from a woman he understood was capable of things no one else in that room might grasp. Yet Jules pulled one of his hands from between hers and lay a finger to the side of her chin so Brenya might break their extended stare and turn her attention to the looming Shepherd.
He was still watching her in that way of his. The same way she watched.
Unblinking.
“Five men in Central died tonight from Red Consumption. I released the virus into Bernard Dome in response to your government’s treatment of my Ambassador and failure to uphold our agreement regarding the exchange of Omegas for orange trees.”
That was why the city was in lockdown! It wasn’t because she’d been caught. In fact, neither Jules nor Shepherd had informed the leadership of Bernard Dome of what she’d tried to do.
Why?
Holding tighter to Jules Havel’s hand as if he might give her strength instead of pain, Brenya shook her head. Because the things she was hearing could not be true.
Shepherd continued, “It was a controlled release, fully contained—the virus has been destroyed by incineration protocol and will not spread from that location. So understand that the day Jules Havel dies, so too will every last soul in your Dome choke to death on their blood. Be cautious of your threats.”
The screen changed to display an accelerated recording of five horrible, choking deaths, the bodies left lying in their fluids for ages before a delayed incineration protocol began. The camera burned, and the story ended. The story was so much more than the deaths. It was the very terrifying fact that a terrorist who had already destroyed one Dome for reasons she didn’t know, had conquered another, and now had power over hers.
She didn’t even know why she said it, the words small. “I have never seen anyone die.”
“So long as Jules Havel thrives, you will not see it again.”
All Brenya could think of was the Beta servant on the screen who had done nothing but her duty. How she had reached out for help and the men had ignored her. How her death would be explained away as reassignment.
Not one of her sisters in Beta Sector would know to mourn her.
Tears spilling, Brenya freed her hand from the Beta’s and gave her back to Chancellor Shepherd to snarl at Jacques Bernard—a full, threatening growl that would have seen her aggressively raped were Jacques in the situation to punish her. “You told me that the Bernard Dome could not defeat the leader of Greth! Yet you thought to leash a rabid dog as if there would be no consequence. You said Jules Havel could never hurt me, while you were hurting me. You forced both him and myself into a pair-bond only you desired. You starved and imprisoned a person you described as a terrorist. A man who had already destroyed an entire civilization. Jacques Bernard, this is your fault! You allowed dangerous men inside my home for OMEGAS! For sex! Every one of you in this room is the reason that Beta on the screen died terrified, away from her sisters. Your greed.”
Spinning so sharply her skirts flared, Brenya faced down the staring man on the screen. “And as for you, Chancellor Shepherd. Whatever took place in Thólos, it is not the situation in Bernard Dome. Do not judge my people by the actions of the few bad men. Unlike the corruption of Central, Alpha and Beta sectors are populated by good, hardworking innocents. Who were conditioned, just like I was, to serve one another for the greater good. Murdering that Beta female was wrong.”
“That is the nature of war, Ms. Perin. Innocents always pay.”
So be it. “Then I will pay. What is it that you want?”
“Orange trees for my bride. And as Jules Havel has chosen to remain in Bernard Dome so you might survive your unnatural pair-bond, a hostage in exchange.”
It was the second time the Chancellor had mentioned orange trees, yet it was the first time anyone mentioned that Jules leaving would equate to her inability to survive an unnatural pair-bond.
“Yes, Brenya. Shepherd is telling you that if I return to Greth, you will die.”
Irritated she had to even say it aloud, Brenya grit her teeth. “Then I die. Go home to your Rebecca.”
“I have no Rebecca. My wife died in Thólos. As did our two sons.” How could anyone say so horrible a thing with so little passion? How could a man breathe when he was totally dead inside?
A slow blink, shunting her eyes closed, Brenya drew in a deep breath. Pursing her lips on an exhale, she knew better than to trust. This demand for an exchange was too convenient.
Jules already knew what she’d ask for. So did Shepherd.
They had all been conversing long before she had come into the room.
It couldn’t be this easy. Nothing could be this easy. Jules Havel was going to claim a price from her later—a great one—as Brenya was going to overreach. “Annette, First wife of Ancil, Security Chief of Bernard Dome, and her newborn son, Matthieu. They will go to Greth.”
Ancil was already shouting in outrage, pushing his weight forward yet bodily restrained by the Alphas at his side.
But Brenya was not finished. She looked Shepherd dead in the eye. “As Jules has chosen to continue his residence in Bernard, you will need a pilot to deliver your orange trees and new citizens. My former tech, George Gerard, will fly your ship and remain in Greth as well.”
It was Jacques’ turn to rage, though unlike Ancil, no one dared attempt to hold him back. Rushing forward to address Chancellor Shepherd, he barked, “I do not agree with the release of George Gerard. I will provide another to pilot the ship.”
“Jules, the queen sends her regards to your mate. Ms. Perin,” Shepherd said, ignoring Jacques’ bluster and pomp, “I believe you will be a worthy match for my brother.”
The screen went dark, those men who had not been previously shouting joining in the melee. So much noise in so small a room, yet Brenya ignored it. Just as she ignored the hands of an Alpha shaking her, as she ignored her name being shouted in her ear.
Cerulean eyes fringed by dark lashes glowed with a life that might only belong to the dead. His lips parted, and his price was claimed. “Your keeping and all rights to you now belong to me.”
Snarling, a hand taller than the Beta, Jacques pushed Brenya bodily behind him. “That was not what we agreed!”
As if no immediate threat to Jules’ safety snarled and spat, Jules offered a calm and even, “Monsieur Carlin, please escort my bride to our new quarters. Jacques, you may accompany her and explain the contract you signed before the members of parliament in this room. At no time will Ms. Perin be left alone with you. Should I find her soiled before I might consummate the marriage, I will have your testicles removed.”
Red-faced, spittle flying, Jacques roared, “You think you are the first challenger I have had for my position? You reach too far. The Dome will not back a foreign Beta usurper.”
Unmoved, unflinching, Jules Havel made his position clear. “I believe it appropriate that you refer to me as Commodore.”
