Page 3 of Choosing Her Alpha
A door that had been closed when Sasha went to visit Maura now stood open. Ditah's room. It was ten in the morning, and Sasha thought it unlikely she had a client so early. She tried to hurry past, but a sharp voice stopped her.
"Sasha! Get in here."
Merrick.
She knew better than to make him chase her. Undoubtedly the smell clinging to her and the disgusting laundry filled buckets would put a quick end to whatever it was he wanted.
Sasha stopped in the doorway, eyes on the floor. An immediate show of submission usually pleased him. She didn't have to mean it to do it.
Rhythmic grunting and thumping greeted her ears. It was another reason not to look up.
"Did you take," Merrick began, as if speaking through gritted teeth, "care of your mother?"
Ditah broke in with a quiet whine. "Please, alpha, that hurts."
Slap.Skin against skin and a weak little whimper.
Sasha kept her eyes on the floor. Ditah's room smelled like sour sweat, musky from old sex. It belied the cheery brightness filtering through her window.
Ditah was not a nice person. Petty and jealous, she had courted alpha attention to gain power. More than happy to welcome sex with Merrick at every opportunity. The woman had no care for anyone but herself.
Last year, Ditah had proudly presented Merrick with a perfect set of twin babies. As a beta woman with common genetics, she could never give him children of a stronger dynamic, born to be leaders. She could only have more children like herself, all of them followers. Merrick cared nothing for his offspring and had sent the babies away to parts unknown.
Letting him take them without shedding a tear, Ditah had acted if she'd done her duty by surviving the Cesarean section necessary to birth them alive. Now the babies were gone.
Only Sasha wondered about them.
It was still hard not to pity the foolish woman. What Merrick was doing to her did not sound pleasant.
"Come here, Sasha. Answer me."
She moved forward, the buckets and filthy laundry held in front of her like a shield. "Yes. I cleaned her up. She still smells bad. She drank water and a little broth, took the medicine. She's not dead yet."
Sasha made the mistake of looking up to see Merrick's thoughts about the last statement. She’d have to wash her eyeballs later.
Merrick had Ditah tied to the metal bedposts, her arms splayed wide. Her knees were hooked over his shoulders, he bent her in half, pounding into her vagina. Her normally lovely peach-colored skin was red and flushed, her breasts jiggling with his hard movements. There was blood on her face. Her upper lip was swollen to twice its normal size.
Merrick—beautiful villain that he was, naked and leanly muscled—kept a steady pace while watching Sasha for her reaction.
He laughed at her. It wouldn’t have been an unpleasant sound, but the man who birthed it was selfish and rotten to the core.
He knew his own attraction. Sasha thought the myriad of elegant tattoos he’d gotten to cover his shoulders and arms were there to distract from the lack of scars most men his age had. Even though he was pretty, his cowardice in avoiding military service had weakened him. Her father would have called him “boy” and made him wash gin bottles.
Merrick had intended to use Maura and Sasha to slink into a position of respect and establish himself as a husband-mated slum lord.
Although Sasha had been born with a desire to please any alpha she met, she found her inner nature easily resisted if the alpha in question acted like a complete jerk.
Merrick didn't smell right. He didn’t act right. Had the man been even the slightest bit kind, she might have fallen under his influence. But he always had to assert himself, prove he was alpha, prove he was stronger. He was a bully who used his charm like a fist one didn’t see coming until it was too late.
Sasha’s father used to say, “Character isn’t like gold. You can’t steal what you don’t have.” He would have cut Merrick down with his officer's retirement sword before the younger man could get within thirty feet of his daughter.
Timing his words with his thrusts, Merrick said, "Oh, little girl, I'm sorry, but your mama is so, so, sick. Your time is coming. Look at Ditah. Look at my dick."
His lust spiked pheromones thickened in the room like particles of floating dust, and Sasha sneezed. Her presence excited Merrick. He’d wanted her since the day Maura had brought him home.
Physically immature, Sasha looked and smelled like a fleshy little teenager. She shouldn't have been arousing to anyone. But this man looked at her and saw a glorious future of power and prestige—the realization of all his goals.
An untouched, registered omega breeder was a special kind of trophy. His lust was palpable, and it had nothing to do with her as a female.
