Page 6 of Her True Alpha
“You are quality, miss. Fine as the old porcelain down in the ‘tiques shop. He never did it for you, and you know it.” Menollie’s mother worked in the household of a fully bonded omega. For a drone, the girl had all kinds of ideas about how the breed should and shouldn’t behave.
“What do I know, drone?” Phee took a deep drink of the red wine, swallowing half a glass. This and a little lady’s maid was all she’d need to sleep.
“You know you never felt a connection to him. He never pleasured you. You are better than him, and that’s all I’ll say. I’ll wake Cook and Mary, and we’ll start packing.
“I saw the news, too. That was a brave and amazing thing you did today, reporting that clinic. All the other women were too ashamed, too broken up about their situation to realize what the awful nurses were doing. The king gave a statement. He is going to have inspections done in every clinic in the 12 Sectors. And all the Admin buildings are getting a review too. He isn’t going to like what he discovers, I’m afraid. Not one bit.”
“He’s not?”
Menollie shook her head. “Oh, no. And all because you did a good thing.”
Phee gulped down the rest of the wine and handed it to Menollie. She felt like the gaping, empty mouth of a grave. Only, instead of getting to lie down in the damn thing and rest, people just kept shoving other things in, choking her with their own problems.
She didn’t feel she’d done any good at all. What did a servant know?
Chapter Three
The transport the King of the 12 Sectors sent to Alpha Nothonal Darre drew eyes like a magnet. It was an outrageous sight against the backdrop of Sector 2. Alreck couldn’t believe what he was looking at. Was it transport for two, or a bus for an army? There looked to be room for ten people under the rounded, bulging dome of the cab.
His men had been watching for it since dawn and had sent word from the border the moment they’d sighted it. Alreck had hoped something more unobtrusive would take Darre and his mate, Naya, into Sector 5. What they’d gotten was a purring hunk of machinery with the curves of a woman geared out for war. Bathing its sleek contours, blue-black paint drew further attention. Shit, did it sparkle?
Alreck’s last transport experience had occurred years ago on a public bus that reeked of body odor. Before that, he’d spent some time crammed shoulder-to-shoulder in the back of an army transport with other king’s army alphas. He didn’t know how to drive—he didn’t know anyone who owned a transport not towed behind livestock. This vehicle was too good for a place like this. When it pulled up to the curb, he inhaled the scents of fresh oil and power, and they made his cock hard.
He knew he wasn’t the only man getting excited. In a line-up behind him, his crew waited for orders. As though the transport was a piece of steak set in front of them, they were tense with the desire to possess.
Greedy bastards. Nothing more than animals.
“Easy there,” Alreck commanded.
One of the men growled. Taking his stick in hand, Alreck turned and shoved it, hard and mean, under the guy’s jaw. “Breaking ranks? Do you not understand my rules? None of that shit.”
Since Alreck’s weapon threatened to punch into the space in front of his bobbing Adam’s apple, the guy’s best answer was a blink. Alreck acknowledged that blink and flicked his wrist, pulling back and smacking the guy’s upper arm with the stick, the blow rocking him. The bruise might be nasty enough for him to remember how Alreck liked to do things.
Alreck surveyed his crew, checking to see if anyone else wanted to act out. One or two of the devils he’d chosen for his team might match him for strength or speed, but Alreck could out-fight all of them.
Slinging the weapon back in place on his belt, he met their gazes in turn until they turned their eyes down in submission. “Don’t forget who you are just ‘cause you see something shiny.”
The heat and smell of the machine charged the air. Alreck lifted his right hand in a wave to the newcomers. He couldn’t imagine what he and his group looked like to them. His trained crew carried an eclectic mix of pit-won or scavenged weapons and armor—nothing new and matchy-matchy for them.
Two men dressed in black exited the vehicle. Fully kitted out, they wore breastplates so well-maintained Alreck could see his face in them. He missed having armor like that; the last time he’d worn it had been a lifetime ago.
The passenger stayed near the vehicle while the driver approached Alreck with a mix of confidence and caution that suggested he was ready for anything.
Good thing—a crowd was watching from across the street, just waiting for a sign of weakness.
Alreck knew Constantine Kane was no fool. His men would not be pushovers. King of the 12 Sectors by birthright, he held his position by virtue of might. Decades as Alpha of Alphas prepared him for taking his father’s role as leader in the 12 Sectors. He’d had to fight for it and wasn’t shy about shedding blood to keep it.
To Kane, honor and law held priority over family. The hardass had issued embargos against this sector when his younger brother refused to toe the line and enforce Administration laws. There was bad blood between brothers and their father that Alreck knew involved betrayals and broken promises, but Alreck wasn’t privy to details.
Kane had kept out resources like doctors, medical supplies, and electricity. He knew what kind of people lived in Sector 2 and wouldn’t send idiots to protect his property.
Alreck introduced himself, then nodded at the vehicle. “That’s a piece of work.”
“Got a hardon for the transport?” the driver asked.
“Could be. It’s got more curves than any beta I’ve ever seen,” Alreck admitted.
“That’s cause it is a fucking omega. The king designed it himself, in honor of his mate.”
