Page 39 of The Alien Minotaur's Bride

I should refuse. Anyone visiting me here was almost certainly someone I didn't want to see.

But I was tired and miserable and desperate for any break in the monotony, so I said, "Let them in."

The door opened.

Vorreth filled the frame.

He looked different without Keth present. Bigger, somehow, though that was impossible – his horns were the same height, his shoulders the same width. But without Keth's bulk to compare him to, without that protective presence between us, Vorreth seemed to occupy more space. To demand more attention.

He stepped into the room, and I was suddenly very aware that I was sitting on a pallet in a thin facility shift, my body visibly struggling, my defences nonexistent.

"The Peritan female." His voice was smooth, pleasant. Entirely wrong. "I hope they're treating you well."

"Well enough."

"The facilities are adequate, I trust? I asked them to ensure your comfort." He settled himself against the wall, casual, as if we were having a friendly conversation. "It won't be for much longer. The appeal window closes in two days."

I watched his tail. It moved in slow, satisfied sweeps – the same pattern he'd shown at the assessment. Confident. Certain.

"You cheated," I said.

He didn't miss a beat. "An interesting accusation. Entirely unsubstantiated, of course."

"The scent-masking compound. You did something to the chamber."

"The chamber was assessed by neutral officials before the proceedings began. They found nothing irregular." He tilted his head, studying me. "Sometimes a bond is simply weaker than one party believes. It's not unusual. The hunter class often overestimates their... attachments."

I held his gaze. His eyes were the same dark as Keth's – all Khorreth eyes seemed to be – but the expression in them was completely different. Where Keth looked at me with recognition, with warmth, with that overwhelming devotion I'd felt through the scent-bond, Vorreth looked at me like he was appraising merchandise.

I was a producing omega. I was valuable. That was all I was to him.

"I came to discuss your future," he said. "To ease the transition."

"What transition?"

"The appeal will fail. You must know that." He spread his hands, a gesture of false sympathy. "The hunter doesn't have the political connections to challenge the assessment. Within two days, you'll be reassigned to my household. I thought it would help to understand what that means."

I said nothing. Waited.

"You'll be comfortable," he continued. "My household is well-appointed – far better than whatever hovel Keth has been keeping you in. You'll have proper support staff, medical oversight, everything a producing omega requires. Your production will be – " He paused, choosing the word. "Properly utilised."

"Utilised."

"The commercial applications are significant. A producing Peritan omega – the market for your output would be substantial. Other households, medical facilities, specialised buyers. Your contribution to the economy would be considerable."

I stared at him.

He was describing my breasts like they were a factory. My milk like it was a product to be packaged and sold.

"And the bond?" I asked. My voice came out flat. "What happens to that?"

"Bond?" He looked genuinely confused. "There wouldn't be an individual bond. You'd be a household resource, not a personal mate. Multiple alphas would tend to you as needed, ensuring optimal production. It's far more efficient than the... exclusive arrangements the hunter class prefers."

Multiple alphas. Shared resource. Optimal production.

He was describing a life where I was passed around like equipment. Where my body was a thing to be used, not a person to be tended.

"You'd be well-managed," Vorreth said, and he said it as if it were a kindness. "Fed properly, housed properly, your biological needs addressed on a schedule. You wouldn't have to worry about anything. Someone would always be seeing to your requirements."