Chapter 4

I force my legs to continue their slow and steady gait despite the urgency pumping through me. The defiant spark in the tiny female's eyes challenges my control. My alpha instincts demand I conquer and claim, but I didn't survive this long by letting my basal urges control me.

I've spent decades honing my senses and leashing my power to ensure the proper outcome. Another few days of restraint won't kill me. I think.

Despite the blood trailing down my leg and the sharp pain resonating through my hip, I continue through the maze of dark hallways to my hidden oasis.

I snarl at the guard when his eyes linger on my omega's legs. He doesn't cower, but wisely averts his gaze. I turn the corner and stalk down the long, brightly lit hall. My tiny scorpion grinds her teeth and stiffens further when I brush my thumb over the swell of her breast.

I chuckle and toss her over my shoulder mid stride. She grunts and wriggles until I cup the back of her thigh.

I remove my hand. Her relieved exhale echoes down the hall, but I close the heavy metal door with a loud bang and drown out the sound. I spin the handwheel until the latch hisses, sealing us away from the rest of the world. After a dramatic pause, I flip the bar down from over the door and snap the lock closed.

My hard cock throbs as the scent of her fear cuts through the other aromas.

I drop her to her feet and strip her of my jacket before pinning her throat against the wall, giving her a chance to study the door as I study her.

She's gorgeous. Delicate, doll-like features like her mother, but with sharper cheekbones and fuller lips. Her high, pert breasts heave and my mouth waters as I imagine taking her small, dusky nipples into my mouth. Too skinny for my liking, but healthy enough for a rutting, her narrow waist and slim hips promise to fulfill my every desire. The pheromones wafting from her skin and the smears of slick on her inner thigh hint at her upcoming heat.

Her nostrils flare and pupils haze as my lust deepens, but she stares up at me with an intoxicating mix of fear and fury. When her gaze roams over my scar, I tilt my head up to the light and cock a brow.

"Do you like the present your father gave me, tiny scorpion? I've waited to return the favor for over two decades, but now…" I run my fingertips over her face, "I'd rather mark you in different ways."

Her shoulders drop as my purr scatters her thoughts. I trace the bridge of her nose and tease along her perfect lips, weaving a spell of soft touches and decadent vibrations, using her own omega desires against her.

When I step back and end my purr, desolation emanates from her.

As realization dawns, her features harden, but the glimmer of tears in her eyes stabs deep into my chest. I chuckle to hide the unfamiliar emotion and lift a brow.

She expected violence and pain, and although I have no scruples over hurting others, revenge demands I find a much more destructive path for my adversary's offspring.

"Don't move," I warn before dropping into a squat. I untie my boots before surging upright and unbuckling my belt. Her wide eyes follow my movement, but she remains where I put her.

There's no escape for her. The lock is higher than she can reach, and my bulk prevents her from fleeing deeper into my lair.

I watch her emotions play across her face as I unfasten my jeans.

Even with hatred twinkling from her eyes, her scent thickens as I shuck my trousers down my legs and toe off my boots. Standing before her, completely naked, I enjoy the pretty pink blush coloring her cheeks as terror shrinks her pupils.

She closes her hands into fists and turns her face away.

Crimson drips down her forearms and the faint stench of alpha seed wafts into my nostrils.

The pheromones remind me of her father, but it doesn't matter who they belong to. They aren't mine, so they don't belong.

I snarl, grab her by the nape, and push her through the old military berthing area.

Lights as bright as the noonday sun flicker over the bunks. Instead of mattresses, shallow pans of dirt sit in the bright lamps. The generator hums, mingling with the trickling of water, but I rush through the space and shoulder my way into the washroom.

The original row of sinks remains, but I removed every toilet except the one in the corner and tore down the superfluous stalls to open the space. Now a bench and repurposed utility shelf line the burnished silver walls across from the mostly intact mirror.

My reflection towers over my tiny scorpion, highlighting our size difference as I force her across the floor toward the shower room.

Originally meant to accommodate a dozen people at once, the area provided enough space for me to add extra showerheads, a large galvanized stock tank in the center, a small, movable shower seat, and a metal rack bolted into the ceiling and floor on the far side of the tub.

I twist the master knob to turn on every showerhead and shove my tiny scorpion into the nearest spray before the water warms.

Her gasp of shock shames me, but I relish her attempt to flee, stepping into her path and blocking the exit with my broad frame. Her tiny, naked, wet body slides against mine, and if it weren't for the frigid water, the experience would inspire many future wet dreams.

I grip her hair and extend my arm, forcing her back under the nearest showerhead. She sputters and struggles for another moment before going quiet and wrapping her arms around her middle.

When her teeth clatter and shivers run through her entire body, worry joins the host of unfamiliar emotions she's awoken within me, but I tamp it down and lift a sardonic brow as I study her peaked nipples and pebbled flesh.

Whether she ignores my heated stare or truly can't think beyond the cold is a mystery to me as she stares at the ground and concentrates on taking deep, even breaths. I long to break her will, but can't deny the wonder blooming alongside my fury.

If every alpha had half her level of control or conviction, the world would be a much better place. Instead, people like her parents stab their alliances in the back the moment they let their guard down.

As the water warms, her shivering stops, but her shoulders remain tense. I wait until steam billows toward the ceiling and her skin turns pink before adjusting the temperature to my liking. When I step into the spray, she shuffles backward, her hair still trapped in my fist.

I spin her around and keep her at arm's length in front of me as I lead her deeper into the room. The no-nonsense sway of her hips as she struggles to keep up with my silent demands has my cock fully hard and bobbing in the downpour. Despite the steaming water, I long to sink into the tight, wet heat between her legs.

As I pass the stock tank, I snag the soap out of the hanging basket and shove her face-first against the metal rack. She grunts and grabs the bar near her shoulders, but I release her hair and stretch her arms up and out until she's forced to rise onto her toes. I engulf her hands with mine and force her to hold on to the higher bar.

Despite the water rushing over us, the filthy smells wafting off her body assaults my nostrils and the grime clinging to her limbs insults my alpha pride. Although much cleaner than the common population, her hygiene isn't to my standards.

I'll give her an upgrade. Right now.

Despite my disgust over the lingering alpha pheromones, the soft flesh of her back on my shaft tantalizes me to the edge of sanity. My musk thickens and a single pearly drop escapes my tip before the deluge washes it away.

"Don't move, tiny scorpion, or I might lose control," I rumble against the side of her head. Even bending down with her balanced on her toes, our size difference makes reaching her ear difficult.

She wisely stays where I put her when I let go. I step back and work the soap into a lather between my hands. She jolts when I drop the soap into the basket near her hip, and I smirk as she jerks again as I touch her shoulders.

I skim my hands over every inch of her backside, keeping my touch as clinical as possible, but when I drop to my haunches and scent her desire, my control slips. I fill my hands with her ass and knead the firm muscles until fresh, fragrant slick joins the water sluicing down her legs.

I dip my thumb between her cheeks. She stiffens and makes a small sound of protest. I file the reaction away for later and frame my hands around her backside before leaning forward and filling my mouth with her flesh.

I mock bite her, hard enough to hurt but not break skin.

"Maybe I should mark you here first," I mumble as I nuzzle the curve of her ass.

"You're disgusting," she hisses, but the breathy quality of her voice betrays her body's reaction.

I hum and finish cleaning the back of her legs before standing and spinning her around by her shoulder and hip. She gives token resistance as I direct her arms parallel to the deck and wrap her fingers around the bar. Her breasts lift as the movement stretches her chest.

I work the soap in my hands and drop it back into the basket before cupping her lower ribs. White froth runs down her abdomen and highlights the juncture of her thighs.

My mouth waters. I grit my teeth and soap her breasts, shoulders, and arms. The slippery glide negates the calluses on my digits, and I inch closer to mania as my prey quivers under my hands.

Her jaw tightens and the scent of her fear mingles with her body's natural response as I palm the sweet, slick flesh between her legs, creating an intoxicating perfume. I growl and nip at the top of her ear.

Salty tears cut through the aroma of soap and lust. I lean further down and lick her cheek before the shower washes it away. A groan escapes from my throat as my fingers thread deeper between her intimate folds.

I grip the bar beside her shoulder and drop my head back, using the spray on my face to center myself. Need pulses through me, stronger than ever before, but I focus on the numb, itchy sensation around my scar and use the reminder to rekindle my fury.

For over two decades, I clung to the savage beast in my soul who demanded revenge. This tiny female will not be my undoing.

When I lift my head, dark brown eyes capture my attention, but she aims her gaze over my shoulder. Her entire body vibrates.

With the scent of soap receding, I explore deeper between her folds and tease her tight opening before trailing my middle finger upward and finding her clit. She jerks as I circle the hardened nub, so I do it again and enjoy her reluctant shudder as intense pleasure barrels through her. Her pupils dilate and the blush covering her breasts and face darkens.

I draw sensual designs around her sensitive bundle of nerves before ghosting the tip of my finger directly over her clit. She rises onto tiptoes and arches her back, so close to orgasm her breath stutters, but I pull my hand away from her and relish her crestfallen expression.

I capture her chin with my slick-covered thumb and forefinger and force her gaze to mine.

"Pain isn't the only form of torture I have planned for you, tiny scorpion. I'll make you crave me. Need me. Beg for me to claim and conquer your body. To master your soul. To knot that tight, pretty little cunt."

Her pupils shrink and she retreats deeper into herself. I expect her to rebuke my claim, but she blinks and stares up at me without a trace of emotion in her eyes.

My patience snaps. I fist her hair, yank her away from the rack, and pull her behind me. Twisting pulls the slowly leaking wound in my hip, reminding me of the cold, unforgiving edge of her blade as it sank into my flesh. She stumbles, but I don't wait for her to regain her footing, half dragging her the last few steps to the shower seat.

When I drop onto my ass and yank her toward me, she has no choice but to stagger closer until her hips wedge between my inner thighs. My cock leaks as my tip brushes the soft flesh of her lower belly.

I release her hair, grab her wrist, and plop the soap into her palm. She dares to meet my gaze.

I drop my ultimatum and watch as emotions flicker across her face.

No matter how hard she resists, I will win. I will claim her. I will make her mine in every way possible.

Because this tiny scorpion reaches deeper than my revenge. I hate it, but I haven't survived this dystopian wasteland by sticking my head in the theoretical, nonexistent sand.

I will claim her because I want her.

Revenge is sweet after all.

Sweet, spicy, and spiteful, just like my tiny scorpion.