Con ducked his head with an abashed and impish blush, but Doran hissed at the audacity of being scolded.
“Charge and I’ll put you in the ground.” Roarke snapped, grey eyes flashing steel. He’d been waiting for his turn, even without the mark it was easy to see. Intention thrummed through his body, a charged yearning to get her out of there.
“Don’t stop at the wash basin.” Doran hissed, lips pulled tight. “Delavar and Conall both got to parade her around the castle smelling of them.” A shiver raked her tired body at the memory of sitting through lunch with hungry eyes watching and imagining. Even Jaron’s terrifying attention was on her that day. In the halls Omegas showered her with compliments. They teased as her if not knowing where she’d been before the First took her as a fuck toy. Purslane shivered again.
Delavar was silent, fuming as he thought over the options. “Unless you want to add your own scent to the mix, like Conall? Must I remind you this girl is a means to an end, again?”
“That changed when you marked her.” Roarke snapped.
“She’s not in estrus, it’s reversible. We toss her to some weaker Alpha to fuck when she’s useless, he mates her in estrus and-” He mimed wiping his hands clean. Weakness spread to Purslane’s knees. Before Roarke could catch her she slumped to the ground, the hollow feeling in her chest a burning ache.
There’d never been a case of an Alpha biting an Omega in Hopelen, and not keeping her. A twang of pained longing she couldn’t control reached out towards Doran’s bond. The corner of one eye flinched, and she tried releasing a pur for him. With a roar the man rushed forward, only stopped by a powerful first ramming into his stomach.
Purslane’s cry rang throughout the room as she rushed forward, flinging herself over the wheezing body of her mate. Instinct was the only thing left in her, and an Omega’s instinct was to seek love, and protect what was hers. Seek love and protect. Seek love and - “Delavar please!”
“You’d defend him after all this?” Delavar demanded, taking her by the arm and giving her a hard shake. The inevitable vibrant bruises would blend with all the rest. She nodded her head.
“No more,” Purslane begged, sagging in his hold. “No more violence, gods please, Del.”
“Get her out of my sight.” The man snarled, throwing her at Roarke. “Now!”
Her savior wasted no time escaping, swooping the raw Omega into his arms without so much as a grunt of strain. Even being so kind, soft, and just his strength was a reminder that Roarke’s capability for violence matched the brutal pack mates he’d tied himself to. He’d let them do this to her after a half assed struggle.
None of them were saviors.
Chapter Eight
22 days without Suppressant
“The bond is more powerful than I gave it credit for.” Doran mused, leaning against the wall as Conall filled three glasses with a glittering amber drink. What an understatement. When Conall became despondent to the point of almost being another person, Doran thought the boy weak. Such a thing wouldn’t be surprising coming from a Fourth.
How was Doran supposed to know it would be like this? A physical sensation, centered right beneath the breastbone. Emotion. The one thing he’d been missing in life. A lost puzzle piece that Shira would have returned subtly. She was supposed to be a catalyst that centered Doran and Conall’s extremist personalities.
Now that person was Purslane, and it was tearing her apart as much as it was them. Too much empathy, too much conscious, something they wouldn’t have gotten from Shira. It’s a constant ringing in the back of Doran’s mind. One that sounded too much like Purslane’s keening wails for mercy. “She’s quite the crybaby.”
“I’d be crying too if you ripped me open like that.” Conall sniffed, offering a drink despite knowing it’d be waved away. A glass found its way to the windowsill Delavar stood at, his eyes glowing in controlled rage.
“I wouldn’t know. I waited until after I finished to bite her.” Doran drawled.
The crystal cup shattered in Delavar’s hand as he turned inch by painful inch towards his Third. It was clear in the rippling of muscle it took all he had not to rip out the man’s throat.
On the battlefield, Delavar had the sharp wit of someone twice his age and twice his experience. Even if Doran could outsmart the man in any other aspect of life… His head lowered in reluctant submission. Alpha’s followed strength. And he wasn’t too keen on experiencing what the whelps under his whip must experience by being beaten into submission. Again. This time with feeling.
“Information. That’s all you were supposed to gather. Tell me why I shouldn’t rip you to pieces and leave the remains of your corpse for scavengers to fuck and eat until nothing’s left.”
“I got what we needed.” Doran shrugged, as if failing his objective were impossible. For weeks, Purslane made him believe it was. If not for the mark whispering truth into his ear, she would still be in the dungeons. Whips, crops, cane’s, and worse her only friends.
The balloon expanding in his chest at the thought of his failure made Doran hesitate. Smugness. She was smug he didn’t succeed. Because she thought touching her had been some last desperate attempt to win. And she was right. There’s no hiding that information with the bond between them.
“Are you going to tell us, or are you going to sit there and fuck with Pur some more?” Conall snapped, jewels jangling in a haughtiness Doran somehow found annoying even before nipping the Omega. “I can sense her flinching every time you try to touch her.”
Doran’s own intrigue flavored every cringe when he reached through their connection. Open and raw, her mind was still too frail to keep the probing fingers of his interest at bay. It’s a quick reminder that selfishness was another reason he’d taken the poor Omega.
Poor… what a disconcerting thought. He’d never shown sympathy towards another living creature before. It was an annoying sensation, like an uncontrollable tick that always turned his thoughts back to his quivering mate. The one who’d been bathed and clothed by another male. Who now laid with her back pressed to that same male’s chest.
“You’ve been mated to the girl longer than me, and you still haven’t figured out her weakness?” Doran scoffed, crossing his arms with an unpleasant tightness in his chest.
How strange these emotions were. Different from the cold rationale that pervaded his mind ever since childhood. Anger was the only accessible emotion he could summon, or rather, that could be ripped out of him as a boy. Or as a man. Now each twitch had meaning when Delavar drummed his fingers, impatient and worried. Not just annoyed. Conall’s nose flared in shame not mere resentment. And all that knowledge came from a warm gentle pulse at the crest of his ribs.
Purslane.
“What about her?” Delavar demanded, snapping Doran out of his reverie.
He hadn’t thought her name, he’d said it out loud. That was enough to satisfy his morbid curiosity with his ‘mate’ and the influence of their bond. How had Conall described the way Purslane shut him out? A wall, severing the string holding them together. With a sigh, Doran raised a hand for silence before rubbing between his brows.
Concentration was key. With a deep breath, he imagined a giant wall being built against the Omega he’d taken. Surprise echoed through the smoke holding them together, followed by relief. Purslane wanted him to block her out. To get a moment’s rest from the frigid darkness seeping inside the cracks of her, thanks to the mark left on her flesh by his teeth.
“What are you doing?” Conall yelped, pretty green eyes going wide.
Delavar stood tall at the shout, an untrusting snarl ripping from his throat. After what Doran did, he couldn’t blame his Alpha. He’d been enamored with the girl longer than any of them, except perhaps Roarke. Of course he’d be jealous. Jealousy, that’s what Doran’s been experiencing ever since she’d snuggled against his Second.
“Trying to get some privacy.” Doran replied, voice the same calm it always was. But the inside of him was rife wi
th anger, annoyance, suspicion. All thoughts from Conall. Doran had the sudden realization that with Shira… those would be the only things he experienced. Warriors emotions, nothing else. And that made him sad.
“Damn it get out of my head!” he roared, unable to stop the blade of agony shoved into his chest by the bitches sadness. With a groan, he gripped his head, and used that proverbial dagger to slice through their connection. The sound of her cry was hot in his ears, before silence. Whatever sound he envisioned at the painful severance, Doran knew it was real the moment Conall wheezed.
“What the fuck did you-” Confusion contorted the boys face, “She’s happy you’re gone. Even if it hurts, she’s happy you- oh.”
The warmth in Doran’s chest was receding fast, but there’s enough of Purslane left to see dread on his pack mates face.
“You’re out of your mind if that’s your plan.”
A slow smirk twisted the Third’s lips, disturbing from the lack of emotion inside the gesture. Doran was back to his normal self, a comfortable shell for a man who knew rational calculation was more effective than whatever games Pur liked to play. And yet he craved the warmth of her body, and the delicious cries that came from her throat.
Twinges of annoyance flit through his chest, and his hands curled into fists before relaxing again. There’s nothing out of the ordinary when separated from Purslane, there isn’t. He’s back to being what people referred to as Doran the Soulless - a man who enjoyed inflicting pain and examining the way the human mind breaks inch by inch.
And now his own brain was racing with all the new possibilities Purslane presented. With her, he’d be able to taste the devastation, and that made her extra fascinating. There wouldn't be anymore wondering what it was like to suffer. “No. I’m completely sane. But she won’t be by the time we’re done with her.”
✽✽✽
Roarke was missing. The lack of warmth at her back nerve-racking. At some point in the day he’d left her unprotected, and night descended after she fell asleep. Disappointment flashed through her, and Purslane received a twinge of annoyance from Conall… and fear. For her.
Panic flared in her chest as she scrambled from the lush bed, trying not to stumble on the moonlit floors. Hours ago she’d been too incoherent to notice, but Roarke had taken her back to the same bedroom they’d left her last time. The colorful lie that promised she’d never see the dungeon again.
Hurt still throbbed in her skin and between her legs. It was all a haze, the flash of a crop, the slick leaking out of an eager cunt like a waterfall. All that slick tried to help ease Doran’s cock inside of her. And she’d wanted it, begged for it. Even the memory brought heat, and her thighs flooded in arousal. She craved more, anything more that they’d give her.
What’s wrong with her? There wasn’t enough time to contemplate that question before the door swung open. Bright light flooded the darkness, Delavar’s silhouette lit by a halo of what looked to her like fire. Shadow obscured his face, but the tautness in his body spoke volumes. First Con was on edge, now him.
She took a step back shaking her head, and he growled. “Be still.”
Fear froze her muscles in place when he used that voice. One that teetered on the edge of control. One that demanded total subserviency or promised the worst pain imaginable. Tears collected at the corner of Purslane’s eyes as Delavar approached.
He swiped a thumb along her cheek but his hand didn’t stop there. Instead he shifted lower to caress a shoulder, and lower to cup her breast thankfully covered in the flowing white gown Roarke dressed her in. When her nipples hardened under the swirl of his fingers, Del growled in approval. Slick drenched her thighs, making her whine and press harder against his touch.
“Behave.” He rasped, grabbing a fistful of Purslane’s hair only to brush his forehead against hers. When she mewled in complaint, the hand flicking and tweaking each breast trailed lower until his fingers found heat. He didn’t even ask her to beg first, instead rubbing her clit as he slid two fingers inside of her. Roarke knew better than to give her panties.
“Wh-”
“Silence.”
Purslane’s lips slammed shut, before opening with a load moan as he played with her body. He slid slick covered fingers along her labia. Kiss after kiss were placed on her shoulders when her hips began to rock against the slow, never changing thrust of his hand. He eased the flood of slick out of her with quick efficient torture, groaning as he captured her cries against his own lips.
“Delavar.” the soft pur leaked from her chest before she could stop it, and his fist tightened in her hair. With a grunt, her tore away, and shoved her into the hall, arousal racing down to her ankles. A few more days and puddles of Omega slick would rush to the call of his fingers. It was so different from when he first shoved them inside of her, annoyed by how hard it was to make her body respond.
Purslane doesn’t make a sound when he followed her into the silent hall, no one present to bear witness. Silence pervaded the air as she marched forward, but this time Purslane’s become wiser. Just because there were no cheering crowds, didn’t mean she wasn’t being taken to an execution. The axeman might be proverbial, but he’ll still want her head.
She’d never heard it so quiet behind the walls of Tel Kharnis keep. No Alpha rowdiness echoed through the castle, no Omega squeals, or Beta huffs that usually accompanied the racket with an eyeroll. Whatever was about to happen her mates considered a tragedy.
The slap of bare feet on ancient stone gave way to the dull crinkle of dry glass when Delavar led them outside to a courtyard. Large trees reached skywards, a field of yellow grass, and small flowers trapped and walled in the confinement of Tel Kharnis keep. A box larger than king Nerium’s ballroom. It's a miniature forest, with trees older than the walls surrounding na’Asisrah and Hopelen… and another land that was now nothing more than a city.
Delavar shoved between her shoulders to stop her gaping, and Purslane stumbled forward. With a sigh he grabbed her by the arm. If not for the painful grip, thick roots would have caused Purslane to fall countless times when they hit the trees. When the pace was still too slow for his liking, he tossed her over the shoulder with a frustrated growl.
Purslane tried to calm him with soft sounds, and Delavar gave her a harsh shake. For the rest of the trip, she lay limp, staring at the twisted branches that blocked out starlight. Not even a twinkle got through the gnarled limbs. Never had moonlight seemed so menacing than when they reached a bare patch in the trees.
Her feet touched the ground once more, but she stayed stiff as a board, eyes locked on Delavar’s chest. Whatever was awaiting them, she didn’t want to see. So he took her by the shoulders and turned Purslane around without a word. She let out a wordless cry trying to lurch forward, but his hands were stronger than chains.
“Roarke!”
Firelight gleamed off two scarlet trails of blood streaking from the man's forehead to his shoulder. Mottled purple bruises laid fresh underneath the vibrant color. A prisoner like Purslane, they bound Roarke’s wrists with leather straps, made raw around the edges from obvious struggle. Conall and Doran stood on either side of their Second, holding him down to a stool.
“Roarke!” She wailed again, trying to yank out of Delavar’s grip. His arm wrapped around her waist and lifted her into the air. That’s when she took in the altar and the torches that lit the clearing.
“You’ve been a worthy adversary, Pur.” he murmured against her ear. “There’s no shame in breaking tonight, you’ve done your country proud.”
“I won’t.” she moaned, closing her eyes against the sight. The constant sway of movement acting as her vision told her Delavar was slow in approaching the sacrificial display. This was the end, wasn’t it? There would be a loser tonight. Either she broke, or… or... Purslane didn’t know what they’d do if she didn’t give them what they needed.
“You will.” Delavar growled, shoving her against the altar. Purslane wheezed at the touch of his hand o
n her neck, holding her cheek to cold stone.
“Fight!” Roarke roared, before a thunk shut him up. “Fight!” Another hit, and she flinched. But she remained still. Struggling, or trying to wiggle away was tempting, and so very unrealistic. Delavar was the Alpha, simple Omega tactics wouldn’t delay him. It’d only enrage him.
“Good girl.” Conall purred, each soft rumble allowing her muscles to unclench.
“See, she wants us. The little whore can’t help it.” Doran snickered, before another smack resounded off Roarke’s ribs.
“Be quiet, Doran!” Delavar demanded, before letting out a cackling pur to sooth Purslane down again. Despite the gruffness of his voice, his hands were soft as he lifted Purslane’s skirt, allowing it to drape around her waist. The slick on her legs grew cold in the breeze, a shiver traveling up her spine.
“Conall.”
At the summons, the pretty one pranced forward, throwing a look of triumph over his shoulder. Despite the emotion in that gaze, Purslane realized she felt nothing from either bond connecting to her Alpha’s. Another dread filled moan left her throat.
“Oh hush now, none of that.” Con teased, giving her ass a playful slap. “See, look at that. So much slick for the smallest of punishments.”
“Get her ready for me.” Delavar muttered, relinquishing the best spot behind her to his Fourth.
“Yes, sir.” Con purred. There wasn’t enough time to ask what he meant before a cock shoved inside of her. No gentle warm up started their romp as Purslane flung her arms out, trying to find something to hang onto.
Her cunt squeezed in delight as he grabbed her wrists, and jerked them behind her back, holding her arms in place as he slammed their hips together. More and more slick pooled between her legs with each thrust, giving Conall exactly what he wanted. With a loud purr he wet his fingers in her arousal before thrusting two digits in her ass.
The rough stimulus brought Purslane over the edge in seconds with a scream. Whatever wall kept their bond severed, shattered in mindless glory. The connection with her Alpha not only reconnected, but amplified their combined orgasm into a toxic drug of pure bliss.
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