Chapter 4

The tiny omega trembles so hard my shoulder vibrates. I stalk down the long, dark hallway separating my den from the rest of the ship. With a shift of my grip on the back of her thighs, I ensure she’s too preoccupied to notice the doors on either side of the corridor as I open the hatch to my lair.

She muffles her squeak of alarm, but I shift again, playing with her, and pull another squeak from her reluctant mouth as she grapples to prevent her fall.

I seal the hatch with an impatient twist of the handwheel, shrug her off my shoulder, and pin her against the wall by her throat.

My bulk barely fits in the tiny space between the watertight doors, but I wedge my shoulders sideways and yank the ripped dress off her slim frame. She sinks her nails into my wrist and stares up at me with sparkling hatred, but doesn’t stop me from shucking her panties down her legs.

Euphoria blasts through my sinuses. I close my eyes and savor the fresh scent of her arousal, even as the sour note of immaturity clings to her pheromones.

“Where did you send my brothers? How do I get them back? What do you want from me?” she hisses.

I chuckle despite the lust spearing through my hard cock.

“Whatever you don’t want to give me,” I answer.

She grinds her teeth and digs her nails deeper into my wrist. I tighten my grip on her throat.

Even though the depth of her devotion toward her brothers shines from her stormy blue eyes, I long to test her.

No, it’s more than longing. More than wanting to test her resilience.

Alpha instincts demand I become the center of her universe. I must supersede the little mongrels and rule her world. I must be the reason she fights, lives, and breathes.

I need her to need me.

Covered in her sire’s blood and wafting the acrid stench of fear from herself and her kin, she’s still the most beautiful and compelling thing I’ve ever seen in my life.

She closes her eyes, hiding her brilliant blue orbs, and wheezes through another breath. I belatedly loosen my grip on her throat and push down the vibration building in my chest.

With her tempting scent filling the space, I release her and take a tiny step back.

“Want to undress me?” I ask, but it isn’t a question.

It’s a test.

She opens and closes her fists at her sides as she considers her options.

“No, I don’t.”

The brutal honesty in her piercing stare guts me. She may as well have stuck her knife in my stomach. Her eye twitches, but she stands in naked, filthy glory before me as though she’s a queen wearing battle armor.

I laugh as understanding dawns.

She’s using a different tactic than I expected, but she’s still playing my game. After her rag doll stunt earlier, I thought she’d attempt to smile and say she’d love to undress me, therefore circumventing my yearning to take what she doesn’t want to give, but she saw through my guise and chose the easier route.

I would have demanded she strip me with her teeth if she’d pretended to be eager.

“Good. Kneel. Start with my boots,” I growl.

Her eyes shoot daggers at me, but she lowers herself to her knees and reaches for my right boot. With barely tempered fury in every move, she unties my laces and wraps her hand around my heel.

I lift my foot. She yanks until my boot comes off.

We repeat the process on my other foot. I lean on the wall and put the least amount of effort into helping her as possible.

“Undress me. Take everything off,” I demand.

Her lips thin and a sheen of tears glistens in her eyes, but she removes my socks and kneels up to open my belt.

My cock pulses in time with my heart as she unzips my jeans and parts the fabric. Metal clinks as my belt shifts.

She hooks her dainty fingers into my waistband and pulls both layers off my bottom half. With her knuckles white around the fabric and her head bowed, she urges me to step out of my pants without looking up, but I release the growl building in my chest, demanding she give me all her attention.

I yearn to see her bright blue eyes peering up at me. I need to read the emotions playing across her features.

She looks up.

Pearly white desire drips from the tip of my cock and lands on her forehead. My knot balloons at the base of my cock, obscuring my view of her breasts, but I relish the shock in her wide blue eyes as she stares at my jutting shaft.

She blinks. Fear joins her shock. She blinks again. A flush darkens her cheeks and need dilates her pupils. She jerks and closes her eyes when a second drop of precum lands on her forehead.

The glob of viscous fluid starts down toward her nose, but she tilts her head and sends it along her brow. I deepen my growl as my seed trails across her temple toward her ear.

It belongs in her mouth.

I weave my fingers into her hair, but she grabs the hem of my shirt and rises. The silky flesh of her stomach rubbing on my dick erases the pain of my stab wounds as she lifts my shirt.

I pull her hair, forcing her face toward the ceiling, and press my palm to her lower back, trapping my thick length between us.

Her entire body trembles and the stench of her fear clogs my nostrils.

I want more.

She tugs my shirt higher until the hem digs into my underarms.

“You told me to undress you. Raise your arms,” she says through gritted teeth.

I tilt my hips and groan at the smoothness of her belly along the underside of my shaft.

She digs her elbow into my side, reawakening the pain from my stab wounds. I hiss and cup her ass in warning. The heat of her flesh makes me want to check if I left a handprint from spanking her.

“Lift your arms,” she hisses.

I quirk a brow, the challenge in her stare both enticing my alpha instincts and engaging my higher thoughts. Her stiff nipples rub against my front, mere inches from the tip of my cock. Our size difference hits me for the first time.

I could break her body with little effort, but her body isn’t what I want most.

I release her and lift my arms. She rises onto tiptoe, testing my restraint as her body glides against mine, and pulls my shirt over my head and off my arms with only a little difficulty.

The stench of her father’s death clings to our pores.

I wrap my hand around her nape and open the inner door to my den.

Not meant to be a retreat for anyone but myself, I push my spoils of war over the threshold and force her to bend at the waist and look at the floor as I seal and lock the door. She stumbles as I push her across the room, but I don’t slow even when I enter the washroom.

Every surface, except for the massive mirror stretched over the row of sinks along the wall by the door, reflects the overhead lighting with a dull gleam. The burnished silver walls, fixtures, and flooring are from a time before the rains began, but they remain in surprisingly good condition. When I found the oasis almost a decade ago, I vowed to make the suite of rooms my own and maintain them to my standards.

And I have. I removed the partitions between the shower heads, tore out all but one toilet, and added a large basin to use as a soaking tub.

I lead my omega across the room and push her against the wall before leaning down to growl in her ear.

“Don’t move, kitten.”

I step back and wait. When she doesn’t move, I turn on all six shower heads before grabbing the soap off the sink counter.

“What do they do at the ward?” she asks, loud enough for me to hear her over the rushing of water, but the stunned awe in her tone as she watches the spray ruins her attempt to sound in control.

I smirk and stick my arm in the shower to test the temperature.

Her hungry eyes track my every move as I adjust the dials.

“Train future soldiers.”

The moment my words pierce her stupor, she snaps her gaze to mine.

“No.”

The angst in her tone heightens my senses. I chuckle and stalk toward her.

“If your brothers survive, they’ll be loyal to me,” I say as I push her under the spray.

She hisses and fights, but I grab her upper arms and force her back into the water. Her breasts bounce as her chest heaves with angry breaths, and she kicks and squirms so hard I almost lose my grip on her wet flesh, but the fiery pain in my side keeps me grounded.

I enjoy her wriggling as I lather her body with soap, the slippery glide almost as enticing as her anger.

“They aren’t yours! Don’t send them there.” She lands a surprisingly solid blow to my injured side. I grit my teeth and tighten my hold on her shoulder as I run the soap over her hip. “I need them. Bring them back.” Her tiny fists beat against my chest as her feet slip along the floor. “Let me see them,” she begs.

I drop the soap and cup the tempting triangle between her legs.

She covers her face with her hands and breaks into sobs.

My guts clench and the lust pounding through me fades.

I stare in shock at our reflection in the mirror hanging over the sinks. A massive, red-haired brute with crimson streaking down his side stands with a tiny, curvy female encased in his arms. Nothing but her shapely legs and the top of her head show as he cages her to him. White foam slithers down their bodies as the shower rinses the soap away.

He hugs her to him not to add to her torment, but to take it away. The hand cupping the back of her head and the thumb rubbing the swell of her hip weave within his purr as he seeks to comfort her.

When she pushes against my chest, I snap out of whatever trance she wove around me and snarl as I push her away.

She stumbles and falls onto her ass.

Her grunt of pain shames me, but my head reels from shock at my own actions.

She aims shattered blue orbs up at me.

“I hate you,” she whispers.

Agony akin to the loss of my family spears through me. Her words cut deeper than the blade she sunk into my side. My heart hurts.

I want her.