Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 58365 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58365 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Instead, she took a step backward and darted a nervous glance to the Omega with cropped hair waiting nearby.
His nervous bride spoke, her flittering language made solid by the translator. “I have been told that you are not allowed to cross this line.”
The damned golden tile track between them held Morgaine’s attention. Blue eyes so expressive in the throes of passion, refused to rise up and meet her mate’s after their single fleeting shared glance.
Walking forward into a room sour with female fear, Simin rubbed at his chest where her fear stung him most. He wanted so badly to reach out and take her hand, but for his every step forward, she took another step back. “I’m not.”
Morgaine was not adorned in any of the fine robes he sent to her, but wearing a style of dress Simin had never seen. It was plain, comprised of white fabric, and modest. “Did you make this garment?”
“Yes, Etaine”—Morgaine glanced to the translator facilitating speech between them, smiling—“offered me some supplies.”
“It’s very pretty.” But not what he had given her. Why was she not wearing what he had given her?
Hinting at a blush, Morgaine smoothed her skirt. “My mother taught me to sew, to weave, and to dye fabric. It was not considered a useful skill to the Alphas. None of my skills were. But here I’ve already collected a basket of items that require mending.”
Cutting a sharp look toward the translator—allowing the heavy, penetrating nature of that glare to speak for him—Simin flat out threatened her. Mending was the labor of slaves, not queens. But… Morgaine spoke of her work with pride.
Furthermore, it was nice to hear about her. Daring to step forward to toe the dividing line, he coaxed, “Tell me of your talents.”
Morgaine seemed embarrassed, cheeks turning pink as her eyes went back to the floor. “In my settlement, I was known for the quality of dyes I could produce… for fabric.”
“And are you going to dye this dress? My household’s colors are green.” He was too eager, desperate to gain a glance. “I can find what you need… if you like. You would look beautiful in green.”
She did not answer his offer. Speaking in a defensive tone even he could pick up without knowing her language, she carried on, “I raised fine goats and made cheese. Built houses, kept a garden. I was educated by farmers.”
“Did you have many friends?”
She blinked and finally raised her head. “Aren’t you going to mock me? I said farmers. I didn’t even know how to work the door panel on this ship until Etaine showed me.”
“You are industrious and, from the amount of skill I can already see worked into your gown, talented. Ascertaining the workings of this ship will come quickly to a mind keen to learn. The universe would do well to remember the endless labor of those who live simply.”
She didn’t know what to make of his answer, stared at him as if measuring his words and looking for the jibe.
“Tell me of your friends.” Simin gave her a smile, the kind he used to win over his mother and steal treats as a child. “Tell me about your homeland. I want to know about my kor’yr.”
A ghost of a smile changed Morgaine’s face from pinched to considering. “My friends… well, I used to have many friends. As I got older, it grew difficult.”
And one could easily sort out the reason. “Because you are Omega and the males wanted to be more than your friend?”
“I suppose…” Shaking her head and seemingly lost in thought, Morgaine confessed, “We had nursery rhymes about Omegas. It was not a thing anyone would want to be.”
She was wrong. “To be born Omega is a blessing!”
Simin’s passion behind his outburst did not impress her. She took another step back, lower lip beginning to tremble. “What do you know of it? It is terrible, and now that I’ve seen what happened to Esmerelda I understand why.”
“Who?”
Etaine explained, sparing Morgaine from repeating what she’d confessed she’d been forced to watch. She told him of the lesson, of the bodies, how it had been her first time seeing a naked male. About the blood and fluids and nightmares.
Every last cell in his body urged him to step forward and go to his mate. Instead Simin retreated one step. Breathing heavily, reeking of anger, he put a hand to his eyes. “That was not Esmerelda’s fault. How could she know the risks of estrous if she didn’t know what she was? If anything, it was the fault of the Betas for a lack of self-control. But ultimately the blame is on the Alphas who created a situation in which such a thing might happen in the first place.”
Morgaine went still, met his eyes, and had no words.
Simin had words. Many, many words in fact. “The Alphas showing you these things were employing psychological warfare. It’s a common tactic used to twist enemy populations’ thinking into the aggressor’s design. It simplifies invasion.”