Omega's Capture, page 8
Ianthe couldn’t hide the burst of anger that briefly twisted her features. “And how am I supposed to do that?”
And she immediately regretted her sharp words when he rose from his seat at the table, towering over her.
“Let me show you,” he murmured, eyes flashing.
Chapter Nine
Legion loomed over her, all Alpha size and ferocity.
Like any other animal used to being prey, Ianthe held herself perfectly still, as if she could sink into the chair and disappear completely. She wanted to run from him, but her hands felt glued to chair’s armrests, even though he did not have her bound.
But he made no move to grab or even touch her.
As if reading her mind, he picked up his discarded napkin and draped it over her left wrist. While she sat frozen, he wrapped the napkin around the arm of the chair and tied it tightly enough that the cloth was taut against her skin, just this side of painful.
He picked up the napkin next to her plate and repeated the action on the other side. She shivered when his fingers brushed her skin. This was the way she had felt that first night in Eros House, full of terrible anticipation.His coldness was more frightening than his anger.
And she had brought this on herself by baiting him.
“What are you going to do?” she asked, her voice reedy with fear.
“Hush.”
Ianthe stared into the golden eyes that flashed in the light. Her heart quivered in her chest, like a bird beating fragile wings against the cage of her ribs. She shifted against the bonds at her wrists. He had not tied her cruelly tight and she could likely free herself if given enough time. But she knew better than to try.
When he stepped away, chill air passed over her skin. Her gaze rose to meet his and she found once again that he was watching her closely, expression thoughtful.
“I understand that you have had to remain strong in the face of true adversity.” His voice was speculative but there was little warmth there. “And you have carried a weight heavier than most could bear.”
A flutter of emotion stirred inside of her, making her momentarily forget that she was tied to the chair. At least, until he spoke again.
“But what you sorely need is discipline.”
In a rare moment of wisdom, Ianthe chose not to respond. To her surprise, he sat down again and picked up his fork.
He speared a piece of the fish and then brought it to her lips. “Open.”
She let him place the morsel on her tongue, eyes wary.
“And you will learn to control that mouth, even if it’s the last thing that you ever do.”
A spark of fearful anticipation shot through her, but Ianthe didn’t recoil as he leaned closer. The napkins at her wrists were not intended to be a true restraint. She could get out of them if she really wanted to, but the intent was a physical reminder that she was under his control and choosing not to fight him.
Fighting wouldn’t do her any good.
Ianthe’s hands curled around the wooden arms of the chair as he stroked the back of one finger down her cheek.
“Have you had enough?” Legion asked. He glanced down at her half-empty plate with a raised eyebrow, but his words were heavy with additional meaning.
She just shrugged, avoiding his gaze.
Stroking fingers moved down the angle of her chin to trace the fragile skin in the hollow of her throat where her pulse beat like a trapped bird. When she swallowed, his palm made an uncomfortable pressure against her throat.
An unrecognizable emotion swirled in his eyes, reminding her of the dusty storm clouds blowing over the wasted forests of the Forbidden Zone.
“You need this,” he murmured, voice rough with barely concealed desire. “I need it, too.”
Legion kissed her hard, pressing down so his teeth bit into her lips. He ate at her mouth and there was no hint of gentleness.
When he pulled away, she instinctively tried to follow him and was caught up short by the restraints.
“So impetuous,” Legion murmured with a dark chuckle. “Patience is a virtue.”
She bit her tongue on an acid reply. Clearly, he wanted to provoke a response out of her. So she deliberately kept her mouth shut, wholly unwilling to provide him the satisfaction.
Reaching past her shoulder, Legion picked up one the precious candles and brought it closer. The tiny flame flickered and shifted as he deliberately held it up in front of her face. Unlike the steady gleam of a glowlight, the candle seemed to have a life of its own, dancing from the small force of air as he spoke.
“Do you know what this is?”
“It‘s a candle, obviously." She glared at him, momentarily forgetting her determination not to respond. “I attended the education program, you know. I’m not slow-witted.”
He raised an eyebrow at her tone but did not chastise her. “My apologies. I’ll assume then that you also know why I prefer them to the glowlights.”
“Because you’re wasteful, just like everyone else in the upper levels.”
“That’s a fair point. But not entirely correct.”
Legion tilted the squat candle toward her so she could see the pool of wax that had gathered under the flame. The way it moved momentarily mesmerized her. She imagined it like a tiny ocean with its own perfect waves, cast in blood red.
Ianthe pulled her gaze away from the candle flame. When her attention returned to his face, she found that he was again staring at her. She had never in her life been this much the focus of someone’s undivided attention. It unnerved her, but it also made it hard to remember that they were not the only two people left in the entire world. Any words she wanted to speak died in her throat.
“Glowlights are utilitarian. They have little use beyond chasing away darkness. The same cannot be said for a candle. Fire is what first allowed humanity to create true civilization, you know. It’s primal. It creates and it destroys.” His free hand gently caressed one of her bound wrists. “This is a reminder to keep very still. It would be a shame to ruin that lovely dress.”
She swallowed hard against the protest forming in her throat. She had some small idea of what he had planned. And she understood that fighting him would only make it worse.
His hand came up again to stroke the side of her neck, kneading into the tight muscle there until she was forced by her body’s responses to relax the smallest fraction. She made an involuntary sound, one that was equal parts fear and anticipation.
She heard the rustling sound of movement. At the same moment that a searing hot flash from a few dots of candle wax hit her shoulder. The heat of it flared on her skin as she shrieked in pain. For a brief moment, she imagined herself horribly maimed, skin curling and blackened as it burned to the bone.
“The wax feels very hot against your skin, almost burning but not quite.” His voice was calm, full of surety, as if they were discussing the weather and not the fact that he was torturing her with hot wax. “Just remember to keep breathing and you’ll be just fine. It’s already better, isn’t?”
Her breath whooshed out of her in a large exhale as she forced the taut muscles of her body to relax. Legion’s observation was correct, bastard that he was. The shock of pain had already faded to a dull throb. She looked down at her shoulder, expecting the worse, but the skin was only slightly reddened around the blob of wax and did not appear to be broken.
“That hurt,” she bit out, voice full of accusation.
“Relax,” he breathed, a lightly rumbling purr in his throat. He set the candle down so both hands could catch in her hair, pressing and massaging at her scalp. “The first bit always feels worse than it is because you’re not expecting it. You just have to breathe through it.”
“Why are you doing this to me?”
“I will admit that I enjoy hurting you.” His face grew pensive. He bent so that their eyes met. “Not in any sort of dramatic way, but the urge is there just the same. I will try to be gentle and often I will fail.”
“Please…”
“But I promise that you will like the things that I do to you. At least, most of the time.”
“I don’t like this,” she spat. He laughed at that, which just made her more aggrieved. “You’re a monster.”
His lips quirked but the expression on his face had sobered. “I’m your monster.”
She didn’t care how many times he said those words, it didn’t make it true.
“Now hold still,” he murmured, picking up the candle again.
The second splash of wax did not hurt nearly as much, perhaps because she was prepared for it. He had also raised the hand holding the candle a small amount higher, giving the wax more time to fall through the air so it cooled faster. Perhaps he was taking pity on her.
She stopped pulling at the restraints on her wrist, forcing herself to relax. Perhaps she could pretend that she was somewhere else. He could force her body but she still controlled her own mind. Her eyes closed as her mind drifted away.
Legion rewarded her attempt to mentally flee with a trail of fire across the skin of her throat. He held the candle low enough to the skin that the flame almost touched her flesh.
Ianthe hissed through her teeth but did not cry out again. “Please…”
He lifted the straps of her dress so they slid down her shoulders, leaving them bare. Gravity did more of the work as the cloth dipped lower. The bodice was tight enough to partially stay up on its own but dropped enough to expose a fresh expanse of skin on her upper chest.
His eyes played over her as if he had trouble figuring out which patch of flesh to mark next.
“Beg me again.”
Ianthe refused to respond as he lifted the candle. It hovered above her barely covered breasts. She squeezed her eyes shut as liquid wax hit the center of her breastbone and slid down the cleft between her breasts, pooling in the little hollow above her stomach.
“I’ll do anything you want.” He watched the gasping pain travel across her face, his expression one of mild interest. “Just beg me for it.”
When she deliberately looked away, strong fingers gripped one of her nipples and squeezed hard. She yelped and swung her face back to meet his smirk.
“Not in the mood to beg?” Legion asked, voice deceptively pleasant. He pushed the dress down the front of her chest so that it pooled around her waist, exposing her bare chest and belly. His gaze flicked downward and a low growl escaped his lips. “Arch your back.”
Her head fell against the back of the chair. She stared up into the black sky as a shock of heat hit her nipples, sending streaks of fire rocketing through her. She moaned, from pain and other things, as her fingers dug into the wooden chair arms.
“Beg me to stop. I won’t until you do.”
Because as always, she was the arbiter of her own destruction. It was that illusion of choice that had trapped her in the first place. He was just setting the hooks in a little deeper by forcing her to give him what he wanted.
Forcing her to submit.
She moaned as another dollop of wax dropped onto the tender skin of her belly.
“Just a little more of that,” he murmured, moving the candle in swirls over her skin, making nonsense patterns with the crimson wax. “You look very lovely painted, pet.”
He continued to coat her in wax, seeming impervious to the little moans and shrieks that spilled from her lips. She no longer felt the individual heat of each droplet. Instead, her entire body felt as if it were being warmed by flames as the heat settled into places that wax had not even touched.
As if sensing the change in her, Legion’s low purr altered in pitch and seemed to resonate down to her very bones, calling up something very different than fear.
Confirming her lowest opinion of herself, her body responded to her Alpha’s call. A puddle of slick leaked from between her thighs even as he upended the candle, spilling a painfully hot glob of wax just above her pubic bone.
“Tell me, little bird. What sort of girl gets off on being splashed with hot wax?”
She hated the provocative tone in his voice, so much like the night that they had first met. And suddenly she was back in that moment, so aroused and afraid that it was impossible to separate the two emotions.
“You don’t remember?” he prompted, growling again so her belly tightened in response.
There was no estrous high this time or promise of credits that she could blame for her responses. This was simply how it was between them and he would ensure she understood that.
Her squirming had pushed the dress further down her body, until it gathered around the shadowy hollow between her thighs.
Legion held the candle above her lap, tilted so that a bead of wax suspended on the edge, just short of falling. The bare skin of her sex twitched in the cool air, anticipating the searing pain to come when the wax hit her flesh.
“Tell me, Ianthe. Tell me what I want to hear and this will all be over. What kind of girl are you?”
He tilted the candle again and she responded without thinking.
“A slut!”
She didn’t mean it, Ianthe told herself. They were only words.
But that didn’t seem to matter to Legion as he set the candle down, a smug smile playing at his lips. One of his hands ripped the napkins away as the other swept across the table, sending plates and glassware crashing to the floor.
Legion plucked her out of the chair as if she weighed nothing at all and then pushed her down onto the table. His growl came immediately after, further preparing the passage that was already coated in slick, as another gush soaked the fabric gathered between her thighs.
And as much as she wanted to resist, her legs spread of their own accord as her arms rose to meet his looming form.
He would control her: with pain, with pleasure, with the unwilling responses of her body.
“You didn’t win,” she whispered as he entered her. The salty tang of the tears tracking down to her face to catch in the corner of her mouth tasted like lies on her tongue. “I didn’t beg.”
“You will.”
Chapter Ten
“The investigation into Prince Castor’s death has officially been reopened.”
Adrian’s pinched face filled the screen. The bustle of whatever public terminal station he currently occupied was barely visible in the background.
“And that information is important enough to interrupt me at this hour?” Legion had left his sleeping mate in their bed. She had been wrung out and exhausted from having unwilling submission inflicted on her over and over again. He was confident that if he could compel her body to accept him often enough that eventually the rest of her would follow. And she was weakening, although slower than he liked. The girl was particularly strong-willed for an Omega.
She was not impressed by wealth or opulence. If anything, the surroundings were a barrier to reaching what moved her.
“Tintori’s execution has been indefinitely delayed while he cooperates with investigators. Apparently, he is now willing to identify his co-conspirators despite no official offer of leniency.” Adrian’s lips thinned in displeasure. “Horace Vadona has been identified as a person of interest in the investigation. I understand an order has been placed for his arrest.”
“Truly? Are you sure you did not mishear the name?”
“My sources were confident that Vadona had been named.”
“That fat knothead is no more a terrorist than King Rolan is. He isn’t a physical threat to anything but his dinner plate.” But Horace Vadona was a business associate and another Alpha who often operated outside of the strictest letter of the law in his dealings. And if a man like that could be accused of terrorism then any of them were vulnerable. “Just him alone? Do we believe that he is actually involved with the assassination?”
“The Crown has linked what happened to Castor with this more recent spate of terrorist attacks. Based on what I’ve heard from my contacts, there are some in Central Command who see this as an opportunity to wrest control from private interests.”
Private interests. That was one word for the handful of ruthless Alphas operating completely outside the bounds of government who truly controlled Pandora. The Crown had tried in the past to wrest control back from the syndicates, but to little avail. The corruption ran deep through every part of the city. Any attempts to cut it out only spread the infection further.
But it seemed Central Command was determined to try again.
Legion’s tone changed to one of wariness. “And are these other attacks, the bombings, truly connected.”
“They’re grasping at reeds. But that doesn’t mean real damage won’t be done to our business interests. If Horace is arrested, there’s no telling how many more dominoes might fall.”
“Have you discussed this with the Undersecretary.”
“That little toadstool has been refusing my calls for the past three days. He’s hiding behind the shroud of this investigation to avoid his responsibility to the people paying him. If the Crown truly is bent on rooting out corruption, the Undersecretary would obviously want to keep as much distance between us and him as possible.”
“And what of my latest payment?”
“We’ve received the past-due amount with accrued interest.” Adrian pitched his voice lower, careful of being overheard. “But it was transferred from a different account than usual, one that didn’t carry the Undersecretary’s name. It’s suspicious.”
“Whose name was on the account?”
“I didn’t recognize it.”
Their business relationship with the Crown, providing the air processors that made most of the city habitable, was technically legal but frankly extortionist, to put it mildly. Before his disappearance, Prince Castor had built a political platform out of dismantling the privatization of public goods. The man had made many powerful enemies with those radical ideas.
But Legion had not considered himself an enemy of the missing prince. Castor had held many fringe ideas about the rights of the underclasses, but those views weren’t shared by anyone with true power. He was unlikely to have gathered the support he needed to institute real change.
