by Alison Aimes
No one answered, but Pavel looked resigned. Axel was as stone-faced as ever. Their prisoner just looked nauseated.
That was fine. Magnus was done talking about it anyway. Anyone who still didn’t like his plan could take it up with his claws.
It was past time to look inside the bag.
A strange, humming excitement sizzled at the base of Magnus’s spine. Bending over, ass still planted to his chair, he leaned forward in his throne, his hand stretched toward the first fastener.
The sack moved.
Pavel jumped. Axel reached for his weapon. The smuggler began to pray. Several of the Alphas who’d been leaning against the wall stood up straight.
Magnus peered closer. What the fuck?
Sliding off the throne, he squatted next to the sack and untied the first fastener. Then he grabbed the zipper and tugged. Slowly.
His other hand rested on his blaster.
A tiny opening appeared.
The sack twitched more violently than before.
The smuggler whimpered and drew back. Magnus leaned in closer.
A honeyed scent drifted from the opening, even better than the Romealon powdered sweetener the cook used to add to his desserts.
Except this scent wasn’t just sugary, but decadent. Better than any melt-in-your-mouth pastry he’d ever had. It was nectar and sin and an explosive burn all in one.
His cock went hard as stone, pressing into the rough cloth at his thigh.
A growl he hadn’t intended to make rumbled from deep in his throat.
His wrists throbbed. They’d never done that before.
An alarm blared in his gut.
“W-what is it, Alpha Lord?” For once, Pavel used his official title.
“Get back!” Primal possession slammed through Magnus, his fangs flashing as lust and need shrouded everything blood red.
He’d rip apart anyone who tried to take his package from him.
With a roar, he slashed a claw along the length of the bag, careful to cut just the bag material and no deeper, as he bypassed the numerous fasteners and the zipper.
Parting this new opening, he peered inside.
Wide amethyst eyes blinked up at him.
They were housed in a delicate, stunning face half obscured by a cloud of dark, tangled curls streaked with indigo blue.
A gorgeous, mouthwatering omega—and all his.
She was trussed up and curled on her side, wrists and ankles tied with rope, fabric across her mouth too. Her body, encased in a flimsy, pale pink toga gown that had slipped off her shoulder, clung to each curve as if she was a present wrapped just for him.
Like her scent, her skin was a feast for the senses, her flesh caramel dipped in gold with speckles of pink. She looked like she’d been dusted in glitter and baked to perfection, her tits and ass large, succulent and tasty.
As if all that wasn’t enough, she had an adorable nose that tipped up at the end and full pink lips that looked good parted around the gag—but would look even better spread around his cock.
She was younger than him, likely no more than twenty-one, while he’d just celebrated thirty-two years in this miserable galaxy. That made her a sweet, fresh innocent in comparison to his jaded soul.
Only there was a haunted knowledge in her gaze. One he recognized in himself.
He pushed aside that train of thought as another lungful of her scent rippled through him and lust dug its hooks deeper into his cells and sinew.
Even better, from the way her eyes flickered from purple to gold with each low growl he made, it was clear she was nicely and obediently susceptible to the Alpha-omega bond—and as hot for his scent as he was for hers.
Amidst all the dirt, filth, and castoffs that made up the Forbidden Sector, she shone like a perfect jewel. A treasure in a sector that was one giant trash bin.
A small voice inside his head tried to signal caution, to remind him there was something else he was supposed to be considering, but he shoved it aside.
Nostrils flaring, the beast inside him howled mine.
“Hello, little omega.” His voice was little more than a growl. “It looks like I received a special delivery, after all. I can’t wait to unwrap each and every inch.”
Mine.
He wasn’t sure what he was expecting in response to his words, but it wasn’t what he got.
Instead of terror or outrage, she winked at him, defiant bravado in her gaze.
This little omega had surprising spirit.
A funny stirring happened inside his chest. Up until that moment, most of his body’s reactions had been occurring in the vicinity of his wrists and cock.
Best. Surprise. Package. Ever.
“You and I are going to get along just fine,” he told her.
But instead of scrambling to present, she shook her head.
He threw back his head and roared.
He’d plow through that resistance easily enough.
He’d fuck her first on his throne. Her straddling him as his hands gripped her ass and he bounced her on his cock while he licked the sweetness off her skin. Then he’d turn her around. Put her on all fours. Fuck her from behind while he fisted her hair and used it like reins to ride her deep.
Hells. What would she do for a nest? He didn’t want her to have to use the dirty, thread-bare silks he and his men had scavenged from the Approved Sector trash heaps. And his mattress wasn’t fit for the likes of her either.
For the first time, he wished he’d done a little more to clean up this place. But he hadn’t been planning on staying longer than necessary. Or entertaining anyone like her.
He was still chewing over how best to provide for her when he realized she was using her bound hands to push to sitting, the bag crinkling as she moved.
Her hair fell to her waist in angelic waves as it settled around her.
The lustful growls of over fifty Alphas echoed through the hall.
The hair on the back of Magnus’s neck rose while his claws lengthened and primal aggression thundered through his veins.
Pushing slowly to his feet, he turned around and, fangs flashing, growled low. Once. The sound echoed with savage promise and the reminder of why he was top Alpha, his ruthless strength and brutal power greater than any one of theirs.
He’d rip each and every one of them apart if he had to.
Message received, the other Alphas dropped their gazes to the dirt, heads bowed, Pavel and Axel included. Pavel looked like he wanted to say something but wisely kept his mouth shut. The betas in the room pressed their trembling spines to the walls and lowered their heads in a sign of submission as well.
“Go!” Magnus’s roar boomed through the room.
As a collective, they scrambled, heading for the doors, the pounding of over a hundred stomping boots shaking the floor.
Clearing his throat, he forced a smile and turned back to the omega, trying to look a little less vicious as his gaze connected with hers.
After all, he was out to fuck her, not scare her to death.
The amethyst eyes that met his were surprisingly calm. Yes, they glittered with lust as would any omega’s when witnessing that kind of Alpha display of strength, but such aggression was often accompanied by a lack of control that could be dangerous for a female. Even his prime omega mother had hidden away when Magnus’s father had been in such a mood.
But even still sitting in the bag she’d arrived in, her ankles and wrists bound, the little omega seemed surprisingly unconcerned. It gave Magnus pause.
Until his gaze snagged on the tiny freckles dusting her nose. He hadn’t noticed them before.
Gods, she was damn adorable.
He also spied a smudge of dirt on her cheek.
A new instinct thundered through him, mixing with the urge to place her on all fours and ram inside her.
“Wait!” The pounding of boots screeched to a halt. “Someone bring me a jug of water, some food, and a wet rag for cleaning.” He paused, doing his best to think past
the haze of lust that only grew with each lungful of her scent that filled his chest. “Also, don scent-muffing masks immediately. Ensure every Alpha in the Forbidden Sector gets the order and knows to have one on anytime he enters my territory from here on out.” He could kill them all if he had to, but it was time he could spend fucking. “And then, after someone has brought the supplies, get out and stay out. For several hours.”
The winged eyebrows of his upcoming rut partner rose. “Nomttfff-ahh-gohhh-ideff.”
Even her muffled voice through the binding was sexy.
A small voice in the back of his head finally managed to get past the roar of lust to whisper that this wasn’t the weapon he’d been expecting.
That his plans for revenge and reclaiming his rightful place were suddenly in big trouble. That he should be taking heed and planning accordingly.
But that tiny bit of logic was easily muffled by the pounding of his blood and the certainty that the only rightful place he needed to occupy at this moment was the tight, hot cunt of the delectable omega sitting in a disheveled heap at his feet.
He’d been in rut before. He’d fucked and knotted his share of omegas, but he’d never reacted to one like this. Never encountered one that smelled quite so good and made the organ inside his chest pound so hard.
He’d always been cool under pressure. Betrayal by those Magnus had trusted had left him even more hard-hearted. So, it came as a hells of a surprise that his hand was trembling as he extended it toward her face.
“What was that you said, sweetheart?” Gently and as carefully as possible, he sliced at the fabric around her lips. “I want to hear every word from that lovely mouth before it’s stuffed full of cock.”
The dirty cloth fell to the side leaving two faint pink impressions on her cheeks he wanted to soothe away with his tongue.
But no luck. Her pink, bow-shaped mouth started moving immediately.
“Sorry, big guy, but that can’t happen.” Her tone was almost mournful as her gaze dragged from his scar to his thick chest to his carved abdomen to the massive erection that tented his loincloth, her eye color flickering once more from amethyst to gold. “Gods, you’re huge everywhere. You’d fill me up so well. If that was possible, which it’s not.”
Such lustful comments, delivered from such a sweet-looking package, were erotic as hells.
The way she insisted she wasn’t about to be fucked by him, less so.
She wasn’t from Romealon. Her lilting accent screamed off-planet. So did her bold attitude. Romealon females were very docile.
He liked this one’s spirit a lot. It was as sexy as the rest of her. But some things were non-negotiable.
“You will call me Alpha Lord, omega, and you will submit to every one of my commands. Or you will be punished, and then you’ll see exactly how well I fill you up. Mouth, cunt, and that pretty ass too.”
She shivered, her nipples poking at the thin fabric of her gown. “You have no idea how bad I wish you could follow through on that intriguing offer . . . but you can’t.”
Continued refusal? Enduring disrespect? Magnus threw back his head and roared. He’d had enough challenges to his authority to last a lifetime. “It wasn’t an offer. It was a promise.”
She simply blinked. Unfazed. “I’ve heard more broken promises than you can imagine.”
Hells. His chest went tight at the thought. He’d soothe all her pains and bring her so much pleasure—once he’d secured her obedience and taught her how he expected his omega to behave.
“That’s not what’s happening between you and me. Not now. Not ever,” he assured her. “There will be no broken promises. Only satisfaction and fulfillment—once you understand exactly who is in charge.”
He reached for her.
She reared back. “Don’t even think of laying a hand on me. Not unless you want to die.”
3
Hovering in mid-air, the massive Alpha’s hand clenched into a fist, his golden eyes narrowing. “I won’t tolerate threats, little omega.”
Amora Rose stifled a moan and tried to fight past the surge of lust and fear that made it hard to think clearly.
During all her abductions—and there’d been plenty—she’d never encountered an Alpha like this one before. He was bigger and stronger than any she’d ever come across. More savage and wild too. He could really hurt her.
But it was hard to hold on to that worry when each of his rumbled commands only made her burn hotter.
Because he was also the most mouthwatering, sexy Alpha she’d ever seen.
Too much more of his scent and dirty promises, and she’d be in heat.
Then they’d both be in real trouble.
She skittered back as far as the confines of the bag allowed. “I apologize, Alpha. It’s all I’ve got to offer you.”
“Incorrect.”
She already knew life was unfair, but did it have to rub her face in it?
The male had black skin dipped in gold that made him look like a literal god. Dark hair curled around his horns and the nape of his neck and looked just unruly enough for her to want to run her fingers through it. On top of that, he had a trimmed beard that only highlighted his carved cheekbones, sculpted jaw, and sharp blade of a nose.
His coloring, regal features, and the intricate leather bands circling his biceps marked him as a clear native of Romealon, and an elite at that.
Like all of his kind, he was a bit old-fashioned and eerily beautiful. But Amora was well aware of how deceiving appearances could be. She had only to look in a mirror to be reminded.
During her various incarcerations, she’d always found the Romealons she met to be too perfect—cold, untouchable, stuck up, and freakishly unblemished—as falsely perfect on the outside as they were devious on the inside. But not this male. He seemed refreshingly upfront, and the jagged scar snaking from his eyebrow to his cheek made her tongue long to trace it.
In her view, every golden, ropey mark and raised imperfection on his muscular form only highlighted his ability to survive. Plus, the width of his shoulders was three times her own. His ribbed horns were so thick she doubted she could wrap her palms fully around them. His hands, thighs, and chest were equally huge, his biceps massive, his abdomen slab after slab of carved rock. And his cock—it might be tucked beneath the ragged loincloth that sat low on his hips, but from the way it strained against the fabric, it looked just as substantial as the rest of him.
This was an Alpha at the top of all other Alphas. The kind to whom all others submitted. It showed in his arrogance and his presumption of entitlement.
But what she liked best of all about her latest jailer was the haunted look in his incandescent gaze.
As if he knew pain. Betrayal. Struggle. As if, like her, he’d experienced set back.
Instinct cried for her to slide to her knees and worship at his feet. Care for him. Heal him.
But that was not her lot in life.
And chances were good that, like always, she was allowing for far more decency in the Alpha than he deserved.
You’d think by now, after all the times she’d been disappointed, she’d have learned better.
Forcing herself to think through the lust, she got down to business. “I’m not sure who you brought me here to kill, but clearly you didn’t do your research. The warnings about me are true. Even big, strong Alphas like you aren’t immune. Believe me, many have tried. Touch me and you’ll die.”
“What in the hells are you talking about?” His roar hurt her eardrums. “I didn’t bring you here to kill anyone. I don’t need a tiny, delicate omega to do my dirty work. I can crush my enemies just fine—once they stop hiding behind their fortress of lasers and guards.”
His voice only rose in volume. “I found you as I was trying to intercept a package intended to help me take care of a little personal problem.”
The bag lining was thick, so she’d only caught bits of his earlier conversation with his men, but she recognized downplaying when she heard
it.
He didn’t give her time to probe—or even get a word in—as his voice reached its loudest roar yet. “And who the fuck are these Alphas who tried to touch you? I will disembowel every one of them. I will chop off their fingers and noses and feed their rotting bodies to the swamp beasts. I will make them regret ever laying hands on you.”
It was the sweetest, twisted declaration she’d heard in a long time. And, weirdly, it made her heart whisper mine.
Even if she knew well enough not to believe an Alpha’s promises.
Ever since her first estrus when her omega “gift” had emerged full force, life had been a series of whispered promises and roared threats, every Alpha who crossed her path after the same thing—and it wasn’t just what was between her legs.
For most omegas, the onset of their fertile years meant the tragic loss of their gift. Hers had kicked into high gear and proved impossible to shut off. In the process, it was revealed to be not so much a gift as a curse.
One that had resulted in her family locking her up, then selling her to slavers who’d locked her up, only to loan her out to cruel men who’d locked her up again.
It was a vicious cycle she’d escaped plenty of times, but the knowledge of what she could do was out there in the Anarcheim Alphaverse. There was always someone cruel and ambitious enough to track her down and lock her up again.
This time, she’d been hiding in Wexen, living in an isolated sand desert, tucked in for another lonely night in her bed when the dart had pierced her skin. She’d been lights out before the gloved hands came fully into view and the thick blanket covered her.
She’d woken up in the dark, in the bag.
The terror never lessened. Neither did the sickening dread that another sin was about to be added to her long list.
Because while nature might have fashioned her outside to appear innocent-looking, she was as far from harmless as a soul could get.
And every time the bag opened, and she was forced to interact with others, someone died.
“You need to let me go.” She surveyed the room, looking for a quick escape. She’d gotten good at that over the years. Given all the crumbling columns and drafty holes in the walls, that shouldn’t be too hard under the circumstances.