Corrupted (Alpha’s Claim Book 5)

“You are angry with me.” Exuding reason, chest vibrating a sleepy, warm blanket of a purr, Jacques held another bite of fine cheese to Brenya’s mouth, patient for her to accept food from his hand. “And you feel unwell.”

Eyes distant, her thoughts somewhere else entirely, she parted her lips and took the offering onto her tongue.

Not a morsel had passed that chapped skin that he had not placed there, hand feeding his new mate delicious things, sips of cool water, and a few coerced swallows of rare vintage white wine. A new mate who appeared more unfocused and startled than a freshly born calf.

And just as shaky on her legs.

More comforting elation he poured within the empty cup of what made her Omega, drowning out lingering, trifling disgust and total terror by manipulating the link as if an expert already. Dwarfing her slumped shoulders with careful strokes of big, warm hands, he offered relaxation. Yet all he offered failed to produce the desired result.

His Brenya was implacable on a soul-deep level. A place even he had not yet found a way to touch with the captivation of their bond or his more practiced pleasantries.

Jacques changed tactics. In place of luxury, he offered sympathy. “I was cruel to you, wasn’t I?”

An instant internal flicker, silent agreement followed by a sniff.

Despite his aggressive manipulation and constant, relentless pull on their link, honeyed eyes welled. A single tear fell on her next blink. And by the Gods, it cut him to the core. That tear gutted him, so much more than her small agreement.

A small voice replied, “You were cruel.”

In contrast to his height and strength, she was so fragile—feminine and delicate—and in need of his protection. She was so valuable, worth his whole kingdom no matter her scarred face or his abject obsession. No Omega anywhere could compare.

“You have my heart, mon chou. It might not seem that way when I correct you, or when I make demands, but you own it all the same.” Scooping up her limp hand, he pressed it to his bare chest. “Does our bond not tell you so?”

A refusal to answer was answer enough.

“How badly does it hurt?”

Wriggling on her seat, shifting uncomfortably at the mention of her discomfort, and the why of it, paired with the silent throb on her side of the link.

It had been done. Necessarily so. And she had agreed to it—the price she’d named certain to cost him a great deal of conflict with Ancil. Lifting the crystal goblet designed specifically for this vintage of viognier, placing it at the trembling lips of the only thing on the Gods’ rotted earth he adored, Jacques urged her to swallow another sip.

She’d been bathed, the water puce and filthy from all he’d been required to wash away. She’d been bandaged. She’d been held close when she sobbed.

She’d been warned.

And though he had spoken his threats with a rational compunction, that didn’t change the fact that if the name George crossed her lips again, he’d see the Beta thrown into the most despicable Centrist brothel. To be used until there was nothing left. And Jacques would watch that recording every last hour, over and over, until he was wizened and old.

Against his chest, her finger fluttered, Jacques realizing his thoughts had made him tighten his grip on her bruised wrist. Softening his hand, he nudged her chin. Offering a cajoling, well-meant smile, he pressed a kiss to her scar. “Tell me what will make you smile.”

When his mate shrank back from his nearness, sinking inside herself at the brush of his lips, he didn’t correct her. Not after what she’d suffered in the bath. “Come now, tell me how to cheer you.”

A minute headshake.

She believed there was nothing to remedy her spirit, and that just was not so.

Accept they were at odds and the Omega was unreasonable. He could give her the world. Fine things, the best foods, eternal comfort, endless sexual pleasure.

What she wanted, the only thing her brain focused on, was the very goddamn things he’d forbidden. Which things: Beta rations? Freedom? Ancil’s head on a platter? George? Further thoughts of the Beta sent his purr to a snarl. Before he could catch himself, he upset his mate all the further.

A mate who was now sobbing into her hands.

Fuck.

When it came to this female, his control had always been less than exemplary. He’d punish himself for that later. He would do better.

“Unit 17C, I order you to tell me what you need.”

The jolt in her body, he knew to expect. The way eyes, the color of honey in the sun, turned up to meet his eager gaze, Jacques was utterly unprepared for. Steadfast, the fluttering thing in his arms sat taller, grew angry. Drinking him in with the cold eye of a rival, she spoke with harsh tones and great feeling, “I want to hold the baby.”

What luck!

Tucking the front panels of her fluffy robe tighter about his mate, Jacques smirked. “Is that all it is?”

Of course! His Omega was upset that she had not fallen pregnant after her first true estrous. How had this not occurred to him? These tears were not due to his attentions during her bath or the deal they’d struck when he bartered his kingdom to wash another male’s seed from inside her rectum.

Yes, he’d known she had not understood this request. Yes, he’d manipulated her. And yes, another round of anal penetration had given her pain when there was no estrous to dull it. But his strokes had been cautions, methodical, and slow. And because he loved her more than breath itself, he’d kept his knot outside her sphincter when his excessive ejaculations had rinsed a pathetic rival out of her body.

He’d been exceedingly careful, and she had braced through it like a champion.

Because he’d offered her anything she wanted in exchange. And she had chosen Annette.

And now she wanted to hold the Beta’s baby. Jacques pulled her closer and wasn’t sure if he could love her more. Precious, brilliant, virginal, and innocent. His mate. “Shall I have Annette bring him here now?”

“Now?”

Finally, he’s startled her out of her malaise. Watched her tuck the edges of her robe tighter around her bandaged throat and adjust her sore bottom on the soft seat. “Yes, mon chou. Now.”

Golden eyes darted to the windows, to the night view of his city. They measured, that mind of hers ticking until the feelings that had left her in misery were washed away with logic, with calculations, and with what an Omega should rightfully feel. Appreciation.

He thought to please her further. “Upon your next estrous, I’ll give you a baby of your own if you want it.” He carded his finger through her too short hair. “I suddenly find the idea very appealing.”

The idea was ignored, his mate choosing to answer the initial question. Embarrassed as she tried again to use the robe to cover her excessive marks. “Babies sleep at night, do they not? I’d prefer to see him tomorrow.”

“First thing. I’ll escort you to the nursery.”

“Annette will be there?”

“Tending the nursery is her duty. Yes, she will be there.”

Like an impenetrable iron wall falling between them, that blossom of hope he’d sensed in his Omega slammed shut. She went utterly cold, eyes fading into unfocused distance. Alpha annoyance reared up to take her enthusiasm’s place. “This isn’t a fight you want to pick with me, mate. I would have set aside my wife for you in an instant. Don’t begrudge any Alpha for loving the other half of his soul.”

Irritation. He’d take any emotion over vacancy, and she fed it to him in spades. “You don’t have a wife.”

“But I do.”

Was that jealousy? By the Gods, Jacques latched onto that hint of perfection in his love and held on for dear life as he licked at her ear.

“She’s old enough to be my grandmother. We were married when I was fifteen, and the hag never bore children. Bloodlines, and negations, and the prevention of civil war… I wasn’t favored heir then, only valuable enough to offer in peace to a rival for my father’s power. Once I took that title, she was banished.” Sagging breasts and breathy night sighs, Jacques was still repulsed by fair-haired women. “I’ll have her removed from the records. You’ll be my first wife. Our offspring will rule.” Laughing at the inevitability of what would follow, he said, “After they kill one another off for the honor of keeping a hundred-million people alive.”

The Omega’s face went ashen, her feelings curdling to hear the truth of Bernard Dome’s politics. Another thing he’d slowly ease his timid love into.

“It was a joke, mon chou.” He kissed her nose, pulling her fully into his lap. “I’ll make sure the birthing contracts are so solid there can be no usurpers. Our children will know their place and be all the safer for it. Had my father been more cautious, my brother might still be alive.”