by Zara Zenia
Part of her, deep down inside, thought this was what she deserved. And the way her body reacted to Devron’s dominance, the way her blood heated when he gave her a command, when his eyes darkened, and when he demanded her compliance . . . it made her feel sick.
This wasn’t what she wanted. She didn’t want to be someone’s slave. She didn’t want to be trapped on this planet so far from home and everything she’d ever known.
And she sure as hell didn’t want to be stuck with this asshole alien who thought he owned her and could do whatever he wanted to her.
She’d made a mistake, giving in to him the way she had. She’d made a mistake not ending it sooner, not walking away after that first time.
But she couldn’t keep lying in that bed, letting him do whatever he wanted when he was a fucking liar and didn’t give a shit about her.
It took every bit of willpower that Melody had to snap herself out of the haze of lust she was in with Devron’s hands roaming her body, eking out pleasure wherever he could find it. She shuddered as his fingers teased over the delicate pucker of her asshole, and she bit her lip, wanting to press back against him, wanting to take his fingers inside her, wanting to have him in every way possible, no matter what that meant she was giving up.
“No,” she ground out through clenched teeth.
Devron froze, one of her nipples trapped between his teeth. He looked up to meet her gaze, not releasing her nipple, tugging it instead, sending a jolt of electricity to Melody’s clit.
“No,” she said, more forcefully this time, snapping her knees together, trying to extract herself from him.
Devron finally released her, his face twisting into a frown of confusion as he backed off, eyebrows furrowed.
“What?” he asked, the darkness of his eyes making him sound more menacing, making Melody stutter and reconsider.
“I—you heard me,” she finally said, forcing strength into her voice. It was so hard with him. She’d never been this way with anyone else, never had anyone make her feel scared or tongue-tied like this, but it was the damned Alpha-Omega bullshit, she knew it was. “I said no,” she repeated, more for herself than Devron. She needed to say it and say it loudly. She needed to remember it. To stay firm. Already, her body felt cold from his absence. Already, she wanted to draw him back up into her, to pull him close and take his cock deep inside her.
“No,” she said, one more time.
“No, what?” Devron asked, shaking his head, utterly confused.
“Get out,” Melody cried, lifting a shaking hand toward the door. “Leave me alone. I don’t want to be anywhere near you right now,” she said, every word leaving a sour acidic burn in the back of her throat. Was that the imprint again, discouraging her from having any kind of autonomy or self-sufficiency?
It made her feel sicker.
“Melody, what are you—” Devron started but stopped as Melody drew herself up against the head of the bed, her knees against her chest. She wasn’t going to let him keep distracting her. She didn’t care how good the sex was. He had no right to it. She’d felt bad about the pain he was in because of the Frenzy, but that was over. He’d gotten past that, and now he was just taking what he thought was his, gorging himself with no regard to how she felt about the whole thing, whether or not she actually wanted to keep going—since she literally couldn’t bring herself to stop him. Even now, she was fighting with everything she had to force him out of the room. If she hadn’t already had half a dozen orgasms from him, she might not be able to keep her legs closed so efficiently.
“Go,” she said again, nearly a growl this time.
“Will you at least tell me what I’ve done wrong?” he asked as he stood from the bed.
Melody licked her lips, trying not to look at him and failing. Miserably. Her eyes roved over his long, lean body, his skin so pale he actually looked like one of those old marble statues. Except those old statues never had cocks as gorgeous and thick as his. It stood there proud and hard despite the confusion in the air between them, and Melody had the sudden urge to lunge forward and wrap her lips around it. She wanted to touch him, to feel him twitch in her hand, to make him moan with pure pleasure using only her hands and her mouth.
“Melody?” he prompted, shaking her out of her daydream. She shook her head, like that was going to clear the cobwebs taking up nest in there, and licked her parched lips again. It wasn’t fair how much she wanted him. She didn’t have any control over it, but it was the only thing she could think about.
That was enough to remind her why she was so pissed off. He’d hijacked her damn mind, and he couldn’t figure out what she was pissed about?
Puh-lease.
“I think you can work it out on your own, Devron. You’re not a dumb guy,” she said, acid dripping from her voice. He looked hurt at first, then angry. Melody held her breath, not sure what to expect. She was pretty sure he could tell her to fuck off and go right back to doing whatever he wanted to her and she’d be powerless to stop him. She was pretty sure the only thing keeping him from doing that right now was that he wasn’t the kind of monster Nor was.
That didn’t make him a good guy though. Being better than a monster was still pretty low-bar.
“Just leave me the fuck alone, won’t you?” she shrieked, throwing one of the pillows at him. He dodged it with ample time, his reflexes faster than Melody even realized. Trying to outrun him was never going to work. Not with him on his game, at least.
She made a mental note of it.
“Fine,” he grumbled. “I will give you time to get over this tantrum of yours, but I won’t wait forever, Omega.”
“Fuck you,” she spat back, flipping him the finger as he retreated through the door. That gesture probably meant nothing to him, but it made her feel better anyway. Barely.
Melody wasn’t sure there was anything that could make her truly feel better in this miserable situation. Not even Devron’s miraculously figuring out what an ass he’d been. That would be a start, though.
15
Devron had always been under the impression that completing the bond would make life with his Omega simpler.
That impression was clearly wrong.
Melody was difficult, to say the least. She had frequent bursts of emotion, when she was suddenly angry or offended by something he’d said, and normally, she was unwilling to identify what he’d done that was so egregious.
He should have had the training, Devron thought more and more frequently as the two navigated their new Alpha-Omega dynamic over the next week or so. Noblemen born into the proper families were trained on how to handle Omegas, how to break them, how to keep them in line.
Foolishly, Devron had figured if stupid noblemen could manage it, it couldn’t be too hard.
Melody proved him more and more wrong with every day.
“Try it,” Devron insisted again, holding the spoon in front of her pursed lips like she was an unruly child refusing her vegetables.
Melody sneered, her lip curling, and she shook her head.
“You’ll like it, I swear,” he said, waving the spoon around. She was stubbornly refusing to try the soup he’d made because it ‘looked weird,’ but it was a Selithi specialty that their neighbors had taught him, and he wanted to share it with her.
“Don’t make me order you,” he warned, a teasing challenge in his voice. Melody glared at him, not finding the same humor in the threat.
While it was commonplace for most Alphas to order their Omegas around, Devron had quickly learned that Melody resented the practice and would do everything in her power to subvert his wishes—except when it came to the bedroom. There, she seemed eager to take his commands. His orders made her wet, made her moan. At least until it was all over and she went back to glaring at him with undisguised hatred.
He didn’t expect to ever convince Melody to love him, or to even like him or have any affection for him like so many other Omegas seemed to, but he’d like to get to the point where she didn’t s
tare at him with such animosity.
“I was joking, Melody,” he said, his voice softer as he sighed, shaking his head. “I won’t force you to eat it, but I do think you’d like it.”
Melody frowned, glared at the spoon with the thick, slightly clear stringy soup dangling before her. Finally, she sighed, her shoulders slumping as she leaned forward and tried it.
Her face twisted in an instant, too quickly for her to be having a real reaction, and then she swallowed, still making a face, but it slowly morphed into one of surprise.
“See? I told you.” Devron chuckled, dropping the spoon back in the bowl. “Looks can be deceiving. So can first impressions.”
She gave him an impatient look, resisting the urge to roll her eyes as she took the bowl from him.
“What’re you trying to say there, hmm?”
Devron shrugged innocently. “I’m glad you like the soup,” he said.
“I didn’t say I like it,” she retorted, not giving him an inch. She couldn’t. The moment she gave him any wiggle room, he’d barge in and start demanding more. She had to stay firm. Resolute. She couldn’t bend or break. She couldn’t give at all. But it was getting harder and harder.
Every time he cooked for her like this, her heart swelled a little more. Every time they had a meal sitting across from each other and she felt his eyes lingering on her for too long, she wanted to be nearer to him. Every time he said her name, with that deep, alien accent of his, she wanted to melt into a puddle and forget all ideas of resisting him.
But she couldn’t do that. She couldn’t just give up.
Even if he was impossibly hot.
And a good cook.
And so good in bed. The orgasms seemed never-ending with this guy, and as much as Melody wanted to complain about that, she just couldn’t. She couldn’t. They were too good.
Always.
Devron never stopped pushing her boundaries, either. He wanted to see how far she’d go, and he’d been kinkier with her than Melody had ever dreamed she’d be. But when he went too far, he listened. When he’d wanted to graduate from playful spanking to more intense pain, Melody told him she wasn’t into it, expecting him to make her deal with it anyway—that was his prerogative, right?—but he surprised her. He backed off the pain play. He respected her wishes and still made her come again and again.
Despite all that, she couldn’t give in. She couldn’t let her guard down. She was still trapped against her will, chemically enslaved to a man she didn’t choose. It didn’t matter how good he seemed. He wasn’t a choice. He was forced on her.
Devron sighed, his eyes cast down at his own bowl, looking hurt again, like he did so frequently. What did he expect from her? Probably the same kind of unwavering loyalty that Nor’s Omegas showed him.
Fat chance, buddy, she thought with a snort. Melody was never going to be that kind of subservient pet. If that hurt Devron’s feelings, well boo-freaking-hoo.
“I haven’t mistreated you, have I?” he asked, looking up from his soup, his bright blue eyes striking across the small table.
“What?” Melody asked, taken aback. What kind of question was that in a situation like theirs?
“I know you disagree with the imprint, but I didn’t inflict that upon you. I interrupted it, yes, but it would have happened no matter who was there to remove your blindfold. I haven’t mistreated you, though, have I?”
Melody growled under her breath, fingers crumpling up the napkin in her lap. No matter how many times they had this conversation, the outcome was always the same.
“That’s not the point,” she said. “Your treatment of me makes no difference.” Too late, Melody realized she’d basically told him to mistreat her, to do whatever he wanted because it would make no difference to her. It didn’t, to be truthful, but that didn’t mean she wanted to encourage him to be an asshole like Nor, either.
“I want you to be happy,” Devron said, startling the hell out of Melody.
Happy? Was that even a thing a girl like her could hope for?
Seemed pretty far-fetched, if you asked her. Alive, she could hope for. Not in jail, not starving, not homeless—all perfectly good things a gal like Melody could wish for.
But happiness?
That seemed like a stretch. Too good for people like her.
“With me,” he amended.
Melody scoffed. “Never going to happen. Doesn’t matter how nice you treat the tiger on the chain. You’ve still got it chained,” she said, shaking her head as she pushed the soup bowl away from her.
Devron frowned, having lost his appetite too, even though the soup took a whole day to prepare. Perhaps the neighbors would enjoy it. Sina and Gaddis always seemed to have appetites big enough for an entire battalion.
The fate of his soup was the least of Devron’s worries, though. It was Melody that was the most pressing matter on his mind. Melody and her unhappiness here. Devron couldn’t understand how she could still be so resistant. There was nothing to be done for her imprint. Nothing. But they could make the most of the situation. And he’d been trying. He’d been far more accommodating than any other Alpha would have ever been. He’d cared for her—cared about her—and what had he gotten in return for his troubles?
Contempt. Disdain.
He wondered why he should bother anymore. She said it herself—his treatment of her made no difference. So why bother with the effort of treating her well when her opinion of him would remain the same no matter what?
Your opinion of yourself will not, his mind warned him, and Devron knew it to be true, as much as he hated the veracity of the claim.
“Have you not . . .” he started, then stopped, shaking his head. “Do you not feel as though there is something . . . right about this?” he asked, finally voicing the fear that had been lurking beneath the surface of his consciousness for some time. How he felt for his Omega was unusual on multiple levels, but he’d consoled himself with the thought that he wasn’t alone in his strange feelings, that his Omega felt something too. Else, why would she be as compliant as she had been, given everything he knew about her?
“Does it ‘feel right’ to be with the alien who kidnapped me from the other alien who kidnapped me?” Melody asked incredulously, folding her arms over her chest with a scoff. “You’re a real piece of work, you know that? You have a lot of nerve sayin’ shit like that to me after everything.”
“Do I?” he asked, his desire for her blooming fresh with the heat in her tone. Whenever she challenged him like this, it just made him want to dominate her, to put her in her place.
Of course, the only place he could do that was in bed. Anywhere else, his little Omega was an explosive force to be reckoned with. Only in the bedroom could he mold her, pliant and willing, to his bidding.
“Yeah, you do,” she spat at him.
“I think you’re just saying that because I’m onto something,” he tossed back. “Because you do feel like there’s something right about this, but you don’t want to, so you’re resisting it and denying it. But there’s no need, little Omega. I’ll take good care of you.”
Her eyes flashed dangerously, and Melody shoved off from the table, in reality just shoving the table into Devron, sending the bowls of soup sloshing precariously toward the edge.
“My name is Melody,” she sneered.
“A coincidence,” Devron said, calm and cool as he stood, moving out of danger of being doused in soup. “That’s the name of my Omega.”
He moved in toward her despite the fire blazing behind her eyes.
“Stop fighting it,” he said, repeating the same advice Melody had been hearing for years. Only this time, for the first time ever, she didn’t instantly rebel. Her instinct to fight still kicked in, but first, for the briefest moment of hesitation, she considered what he’d said. She thought about not fighting and found that it wasn’t the terrible thought she’d expected it to be.
16
“I won’t do it. Not today. Not again,” Melody told h
erself as she paced in front of the door to their apartment. Every day when Devron went off for his guard duties, she told herself the same thing.
Every day, she failed.
Not today though. She was determined to resist him.
She had to.
It had gone on too long. She hated it. She hated that he left her and the moment he did, she felt itchy, antsy with the urge to follow him and be right at his side. It wasn’t the same painful compulsion she had before they’d completed the bond, but it was still there, still annoying. A constant reminder that she wasn’t her own person anymore.
But Melody thought if she could get far enough away that she could get used to it, it could become background noise, maybe.
Before she could get away from him, she needed to be able to resist him. So far, that had been a fool’s errand.
It was a new day, though, and she had a new opportunity to try again. He thought it was a game, that she played hard to get with the intention of giving in.
He could think whatever he wanted. She was practicing. Training herself.
Or trying to. The fact that she gave in to him every single time supported his theory more than hers. As did the fact that she wound up enjoying it every time.
Thoroughly enjoying it.
That man sure did know what he was doing when it came to sex.
It wasn’t just the imprint that made it hard for her to walk away from him. But she was going to do it. She had to. Her freedom was at stake!
He’d be back any time now, she knew. That was why she was pacing in front of the door, desperately trying to remind herself that she was not going to sleep with him again. Because the moment he walked through the door, she generally forgot herself. Seeing him after a long day apart was a breath of fresh air, and it was the only time Melody felt she could actually relax—not that she ever would with him around. Hell, no. She’d learned her lesson about thinking he was different or somehow better. He wasn’t. He just did a better job of concealing it than Nor did.