Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 65151 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65151 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
And never would.
Swaying in her chair, mouth full of fish, Brenya was hunched, rattled, and embarrassingly aware that she had the posture of a wild animal over its meal.
“Forgive my tardiness.” Lucia’s cheeks blushed as if she hated admitting a shortcoming, yet did it with grace. “I fell asleep waiting and was only just notified that breakfast had become lunch.” Taking the seat across from Brenya with a winning smile, as if this family breakfast were a delightful engagement, Lucia added, “And I see it is good I already ate. This is dry, and the sauce is broken. Commodorina, don’t eat that. We’ll get you another.”
It was as if the room was hers to command, Lucia waving at the frightening guards like they were her personal servants, demanding fresh food. “Tell the chef that Commodore Havel and his wife require fresh plates.”
Growling from his cell, the sound muffled by the glass, Jacques leaned forward, studying Brenya’s dish and loudly snarling to see the intruding female was correct. To Jules, he barked, “If you had not brought my mate three hours late, her food would have been perfect. We had an arrangement, Havel. Her food is dry at the edges. The sauce is broken.”
Male complaints ignored, Brenya found she was unable to look away from the gorgeous female, the desirable female, the female with power.
Not because she was dazzled by Lucia, nor because she disliked her. It wasn’t that the woman was gaunt. That she poorly hid a roiling nausea at the scent of fish under heavy makeup.
It was because Lucia had fucked her mate.
And there was a golden knife in Brenya’s hand, a knife she had used for other, more difficult tasks.
A new sound, deep, deep, deep in her chest, rattled. So low no one but she could hear. The imaginings in Brenya’s mind so graphically violent that they should have horrified her.
Three more heartbeats and they did.
The bite of fish still in between her teeth, Brenya slowed the working of her jaw, noting the exact moment Lucia really looked at her. As if the other Omega had avoided it thus far.
How there was a flash of something in the intruder’s dark eyes quickly hidden away, Lucia placing her napkin on her lap before leaning forward to pull Brenya’s plate away. “Really. Don’t eat that.”
But those shifting dark Omega eyes were measuring her too—the blood on Brenya’s jumpsuit. A small missed smear on Brenya’s cheek.
But… the exhausted sigh straight from the Omega’s red lips coupled with the eye roll? It felt forced. It felt badly acted.
She was performing.
“Brenya, if I have to burn every Beta jumpsuit in this Dome to get you to properly dress, I will do it. I will burn them all.” Smiling sharply, as if chastising a younger sister, she gestured at the blood soaking her collar. “And the blood. Why are you smeared with blood? Every time I see you, there is some ordeal.”
It could have been theatrical, the way Lucia seemed to catch herself, how she slid her pretty eyes to Jules, as if considering, even smiling as if in on a secret. “Unless the blood…. Perhaps, you are to be congratulated?”
Jules observed, nothing more. Every movement, every breath, sitting back in his chair. Unreadable.
Yet his ocean was warm as it flowed where it shouldn’t.
“Well?”
Commodore Havel addressed the loud, opinionated woman as if he knew her every secret. Every misstep. Every fear. “Good afternoon, Lucia. Do not touch my mate’s food again.”
The warning was ignored, with a light laugh and a wink. “Maybe better than good. I see your shirt has blood on it too… in a very, hmm, suspicious place.” A playful smirk as if she were the greatest of friends with the Beta terrorist, Lucia patted his hand. “Did she…?”
“Did she what?” The sound of a livid Alpha male. One who had been silently seething with such rage that Brenya squeezed the golden knife again. “Did she what, Lucia?”
The warm sea bubbled higher, washing away the other male’s rage. It disrespected her shore, soaked the sand. It made Brenya swallow her fish and wish she had a bite of Beta shoulder between her teeth again.
The Alpha’s external outburst was ignored like that of a naughty child, while Lucia gestured that Jules should open his shirt as she announced, “It won’t scar properly if you don’t let it breathe.”
“Noted. Thank you, Lucia.” Perfect manners, Jules’s face moving in the proper expressions, but inside, his sea was not so peaceful. It was positively churning…
…with pleasure.
The polar opposite of the male behind the bars, straining to see what exactly they discussed.
And for some reason, Jacques was heartbroken.
Eyes bloodshot, his expression shattered, he pressed his mutilated hands to the glass and said just for his mate, “I love you, Brenya. I do. Whatever he told you, whatever he did to make you—”