Chapter 6 #3
Hundreds of years had passed since the disease took root in human women, sterilizing them before they reached puberty.
Scientists had played with genetics, birthed the breeds, and invented a vaccination, but still the disease thrived.
To keep her reproductive organs healthy, every female of the 12 Sectors had to have the vaccination before or at the age of two.
The other black dot marked her body's unique ability to do more than simply birth children. Sasha carried the genetic compatibility to produce more alpha and omega breeders as her mother had before her. She would breed true. Omegas were precious. They weren’t just baby makers; they imparted the breeder’s blessing.
Omegas also had a known ability to heal.
A full mating bond would ensure the alpha she chose a long life.
The king and his breeder wife had thus far lived over two hundred years.
The unique serial number normally found under the prominent dots connected her to all her medical and family history. The information was obtainable to anyone with the means to look it up. The marks proved her a female of unique value, not just another beta or drone.
A powerful male like Constantine Kane should want her for that mark alone. But he didn't. He didn't want a bride-mate, a bond mate, or any kind of mate.
The marks were usually on the hand. It counted as identification. And protection. Harm to a breeder could be punished by castration, hand removal or death.
But her mother hated her even as a small child and planned for Sasha’s humiliation.
Constantine Kane. He was waiting on her, his insistence a silent force of will pushing at her.
She turned red, the heat of her shame pouring from the top of her head and down her chest as she stood. In the sheath of the drone uniform with its tight neck and fitted sleeves, she couldn't show him her mark without taking the whole thing off.
She shimmied out of the light gray fabric, forced to show him her chubby, soft, underdeveloped body—her white, slug colored skin, and the tight, puffy nipples at the end of her flabby breasts.
The mark was right next to her left nipple, so that she had to show her whole boob to every Tom, Dick and Administrator Bully.
The alpha Warlord’s game face had returned. It made Sasha feel small. He examined her marks carefully, then typed the number into his data pad.
"You missed your last appointment," he said, his tone thoughtful.
"I don't have to go again until after my heat," she told him, holding the smock in front of herself.
He grunted. "Who said that? You were supposed to go to this one and then another after. This is the appointment to prepare you for the heat. They would offer you sedatives, a mild nerve dampener, pain medicine, and a nutritional tea. You are eighteen? The appointment was eight months ago."
"What?" She struggled back into the clothing, missing her own. "Maura said..." She let the worlds trail off. "Mother strikes again. Thanks for looking at that. I'll have to see about getting another one." She sat down.
He typed something into the data pad. "Tomorrow."
Sasha was shaking her head, stupefied by his presumption at making such a personal appointment. "Thank you, but I'll—"
Constantine made a sound, sharp and hard, like a bark. It was just a noise in his throat, but it was a strike through her whole body that made her muscles spasm in pain. Eyes wide, she looked at him, confused.
His full, sensuous mouth was hard now with disapproval. His black brows lowered over dark eyes in reprimand.
Her instinct was immediate, driven by breeder biology. She needed to soothe him. Please him. Sasha wasn't sure why he was angry, but her instinct didn't care a bit about explanations. A little purr came out of her throat, the same she used for unruly children and terrified drones.
One eyebrow rose. His mouth softened. A little.
He looked back down at the data pad, typing again. "Tomorrow." It was the final word they would have on the matter.
He was an alpha. Alphas dominated.
Setting the pad aside, he grabbed a wooden box off the desk and pulled a mass of gold chains from its depths. He spent a few moments untangling them before he singled one out. Next he retrieved a coin shape and slipped it on to the chain. He held it up to her.
"Do not take this off."
Without asking permission, he moved her braid over her shoulder and brought the chain to her neck. When his thick, clawed fingers brushed her skin, goosebumps rose, and she shivered.
"Quit fidgeting, girl."
Someone knocked twice.
"Yes?" His voice behind her was so deep she felt the vibration of it in her chest.
The door opened. A woman dressed in white stood there.
She was tall and slim, in the well fitted, fine cloth of a knee length jacket, silky tunic, and leggings with boots.
Her shoulder length, silver-blonde hair was styled like she did much more than run a comb through it, and her makeup was painted with care.
The woman could have been a store display, she was so nicely put together.
She looked wealthy and refined, but her eyes dropped to the floor in subservience to the alpha in the room. "Sir?"
"Get Sasha here a private bed and whatever she needs to be comfortable, please, Terasa." He touched the back of Sasha's neck, a barely there stroke above the chain. "You, girl—go with Terasa. No trouble from you. No more sneaking into drone laundry rooms and past beta guards."
"But—"
He made that sound again, the one that reprimanded her questioning him and made her whole body tense.
Terasa was all brisk business. "Come with me now, girl. We will find you a quiet place. Do you like to read? Photo shows? You need a bath as well. Hmm, maybe a spa treatment. Are you hungry?" She gently took Sasha's arm to lead her away, pulling her from her seat. "Your name is Sasha?"
"Yes, ma'am." Terasa had a natural authority and confidence that made Sasha want to please her. Wondering at the cause, Sasha lifted her nose and tried to scent the other woman.
Almost a foot taller than Sasha, her body was slim and feminine in every way. She gave off an aura of strength similar to Constantine, though much less severe. Despite her desirability, this was not some soft bed partner to be easily cowed.
In the hall, with the intimidating warlord now shut up away behind the closed door, Terasa stopped to finger the coin hanging from the chain around Sasha's neck.
"Hmm. He's claimed you, huh? What is your orientation? You smell like drone but look like a breeder child. Where's your registration?"
With no regard for personal space, she reached for Sasha's left hand. When she saw no mark, just the raw, dried state of hands constantly used to do daily work, she made a tsking sound.
"Look at these hands and nails. Like a farm drone's. Well, he didn't say he wanted you tonight, so there is plenty of time for all of that."
"Wanted me tonight?" Sasha repeated cluelessly.
"Follow me, Sasha girl. The others always love to give makeovers. Makes them feel useful."