Rite of the Omega Page 7

  Grunting his assent, the man’s lurid gaze settled on Aida, a dark brow perching high on his forehead as he looked Aida over with such scrutiny she slid even deeper into the water. They remained that way for what felt like ages, Aida chin deep as the man watched. Neither tried to speak, though the quiet splashes from Aida’s panting breaths were more than enough sound for her to bear.

  “Immari,” Aida cried, lurching towards the last familiar face with a frothy wave surging over the edges of the tub. Careless of the man’s attention, ignoring the prickling heat scalding her backside as she slung a leg over the side to reach her one friend.

  “Sit down,” Immari hissed, grabbing up her skirts before the rush of water coasting towards the drains by the walls could drench them.

  Aida flinched, shoulders high against her ears to ward off the cruel strike of Immari’s command, easing back into the bath. Assuming her usual position with back straight and proud, Aida worried at her lower lip with the edge of her teeth. Blinked hard and fast to will away a fresh wash of tears as it left her adrift, abandoned in yet another moment of need.

  Not that she should have expected anything different. Immari had never been soft or kind. Strict and sometimes cruel, she wasn’t wont to soothe Aida’s fears. Hope that their sudden circumstances would change something lying flat and dead before her, Aida fell into the pattern of her life that came so easy. A living doll, only now it appeared she had a new master to answer to.

  Except the man was pulling away from the wall. Shoulders shrugged as if to loosen the muscles, a hand going to his side to play over the hilt of a blade there. Gaze fixed on Immari for a mere instant, he caught Aida’s surprise, holding onto it with easy domination as that rush of fire seared through her once again.

  This time there was no hand holding her still, no grip at her throat to silence her. Low cry racing through the room, it echoed back at her in wanton disarray over the slosh of water as Aida fumbled for the edge to remain upright. Hips bucking once, twice under the churning water, she uttered a breathless squeak of dismay as something hot and thick made itself known between her thighs. Spreading over tender flesh, far different from water, Aida did not understand what was wrong with her. Shoving a hand down there, cupping over that space, she shrieked when her panicked touch sent a ragged wave of sensation through her entire body. A silent roar that suffused her with glimmering light as if she’d drunk down the sun itself.

  The man’s low chuckle brought her back in an instant, the languid darkness in his gaze all the more disturbing before he turned and quit the room. Though he didn’t go far, his heavy boots clomping around her chambers where he started pawing through her things.

  Fire simmering in her cheeks, Aida recoiled from the frigid weight of Immari’s damning glare. Shuffling upright, she couldn’t help the bow of her spine or the way she shivered with the lapping waves of sensation teasing at her. She didn’t even voice a complaint as Immari brought the coarse pumice down on Aida’s shoulders, scrubbing over the yet healed welts. Whatever the man had used to heal her didn’t appear to work as fast as Otaso’s methods, leaving the pained red lines abraded by Immari’s rough scouring. Which made little sense, considering how easy it was for him to prepare the bath. He had the power to stop Aida’s pain, but hadn’t. Perhaps he wanted her to feel this particular agony, to maybe even carry the marks from the whole ordeal though he’d seemed so angry when she’d called for her guardian. Demanding she never utter Otaso’s name again, it would be impossible to not have his memory plague her every time she looked at herself.

  Immari remained silent with lips puckered and brow tight, washing Aida with cruel efficiency. With no leniency to the injuries, she went over every inch to buff Aida’s skin smooth. Ignoring the little grunts and breathy huffs, the strained lines of Aida’s neck and shoulders as she dragged the sturdy wooden comb through tangles and snarled knots as if she were intent on ripping the whole lot free.

  It was on Aida’s quiet whimper as one knot pulled free with a vicious ripping sound to dangle in a clumped and dingy mess from the comb that the man returned. Amber eyes alight, he came into the bathing chamber with little regard to Aida’s plight. He didn’t descend upon her as she worried he might. Instead he went to Immari, snatching the torture device from her and shoving her back to the door with a wide palm upon her chest. Growling something in that foreign language, the lilting swirl of it at odds with the grinding savageness pouring from his chest. Features going slack in something far too close to fear, Immari did not protest when that other woman guided her from the doorway and well away from the chamber.

  Leaving Aida all alone with the monster who stood with legs spread, chest heaving with rumbling breaths before he turned to face her.

  “She already did that,” Aida mumbled through frozen lips while scooting to the other side of the tub, as far away as she could get from the man as he hefted the rose laden soap. Watching his every move through the clumped fringe of her lashes, Aida cringed as he tossed the heavy bottle away. Waiting for the crash of pottery against the wall, she gave a slow blink when it never came. Leaning sideways to peek, she saw no evidence of it at all.

  While so distracted, she didn’t see him coming closer. Missed his hand reaching for her until it closed over her crown and pushed her under the water. Holding her there despite her panicked thrashing. A new fear spiking in her veins, adrenaline surging through her heart, Aida screamed frothy protests into the murky water and clawed at the arm above her.

  Dragged up from the shallow depths to choke on the sudden rush of air heaved into her lungs, his face was inches away when her eyes cleared. Heedless of the water and saliva spattering his cheeks as Aida continued to sputter, lips a slash of bitter amusement, he held her upper body above the water when she tried to sink back down.

  “Again.”

  The dark sweep of her brows knit together as she twitched her head side to side, comprehension eluding her as he slapped an unfamiliar brick of some waxy substance into her palm. Not until it became wet, her fingers slipping over the block with the known texture of soap did she understand what it was.

  “You sent Immari away,” Aida whispered to hide the plaintive whine of her voice. Refusing to meet that disturbing gaze as he remained far too close, she willed her skin to stop growing so warm where he continued to touch her, to cease the thrilling heat slipping down the center of her body.

  “You’ve gotten me all wet,” the beast said with a narrowing of his eyes. Sucking his teeth, he withdrew, a sidelong sneer given to the drenched state of his clothing before he worked the odd buttons at wrist and neck free. Nothing at all like the ribbon tied shirts Otaso wore, no billowing fabric or embroidery edged slits to show a glimpse of puffy cloth beneath. A close fit from neck to waist, it seemed to accentuate his bulk, giving more than a mere hint at the rippling muscle beneath.

  Aida exhaled hard as he pulled the whole garment over his head, baring so much flesh she did not know where to look. Found herself drawn back to the firm planes of his chest, the deep valleys and hills of his stomach no matter how many times she tried to look away. Glancing at the cruel twist of his lips as he muttered under his breath, the bright gleam of his gaze shimmering with his anger.

  Now hers filled with tears, uncertainty driving her back. She’d angered him, again. Not her fault she’d splashed so when he shoved her under the water. What person in their right mind wouldn’t struggle against being drowned in a tub? Arms snaking around her middle, she curled around the sudden ache centered in the pit of her stomach.

  He’d punish her now, blaming her for it all. Just like Otaso.

  His low mutterings became louder, a thunderous rumble as he yanked the soaked trousers free. Peeling the wet fabric away from his skin with brisk annoyance. Boots flung across the room, the leather splotched and maybe ruined.

  Her first tears slipped free despite her struggle to hold them back. Otaso hated it when she cried, and he might be no different. Loathe to bring more pain down upon her head, she scrubbed the back of one hand over her cheek, smearing bitter despair over her skin.

  Aida fell back with a mewling cry when he snatched that same hand, silencing the words if not the sounds begging for mercy. Turning most of her body away, she gave him the far sturdier line of her back rather than the painful edge of her cheek to strike. Mouth opening on a silent scream as liquid fire seared over her fingers, across her hand to the inside of the wrist where the sharp edge of his teeth scraped at the fluttering pulse.

  He nipped the delicate flesh hard before the tub erupted in buffeting waves, the crash of water following him into the bath.

  Whine shrill and somehow breathless as her lungs seized and her heart ceased its hammering, Aida sluiced through the water by his grip, dragged against a solid wall of thick muscle and impenetrable force with a wet slap of skin. Swells flooded over the edge, splashing all over the floor with the patter of a downpour. Her one thought, wild and crazed, was how the bath continued to be full despite how much sloshed and sprayed.

  Sightless gaze pinned to the wall that seemed leagues away, Aida remained rooted to the spot. Limbs too heavy and rigid, they threatened to break off as he shoved the trunk like breadth of a thigh between hers. Forcing her to recline against him, pushing and pulling until she mimicked a languid repose over his body. Inner thighs vibrating with tension where he kept her spread over both of his legs, Aida could scarce breathe as he locked an arm over her hips to keep her there while he dug around the bottom of the tub for the waxy block she’d lost track of ages ago.

  “Again,” the man husked against the shell of her ear, smacking the slippery block into Aida’s rigid hand. Closing his fingers over hers in a painful grip, he brought their joined hands to her chest. Rubbing the brick in slow arcs unti
l frothy bubbles appeared. Smearing them in ever widening circles, he grunted something in that other language and dragged the soap over one breast. Hot breath scattering over her shoulder as he watched his work, he repeated the same to the other.

  Firm from the very moment he’d pressed her against it, she felt that part of him grow somehow harder. A slow throbbing against her lower back, the bewildering need to squirm making her uncertain if she wanted to get away or closer. Despite the fear tumbling through her belly, the tight bands of it constricting her chest, she felt flush. A tension that had nothing to do with her uncertainty gliding in sinuous threads through her veins. The skulking predator that inhabited her with careful precision until Aida found a sigh trembling over her lips, head falling back to the beast’s shoulder as he skimmed the soap over the aching point of her breast.

  She shuddered when he repeated the action on the opposite side, the edge of his nails scraping over the taut nub that drew tighter with the rough touch. A helpless sound trembled over her tongue as sensations she could scarce describe flooded through her. The heat alone so intense she felt boiled alive from the inside out, pulsing thick and strange. Shivering as if the dead of winter scraped her spine despite the luscious fire licking through the cradle of her hips. A strange heaviness pervading it all, from her arms to her breasts, even that place between her thighs feeling so full and thick that she strained against the unrelenting force of his legs to squeeze it tight.

  Rumbled words smeared against her neck sent a ragged thrill down her spine. Her back bowed, hard and sharp. Painful as she shoved her backside against the throbbing hardness of him, grinding against it. The next breath let loose on a thin scream as he tore them from the water. Whirled around, he slammed her against the edge of the bath, hard shelf driving against the soft flesh of her thighs. Painful pressure somehow glorious as his weight came against her.

  Aida’s hands scrambled over the sturdy frame when his hands slid down her waist. Over the roundness of her backside, spreading them wide before he slid into the space he made. Closing the soft skin around his thickness, creating a channel of slick flesh. One she could not squirm free of as he set his legs tight against the outside of hers. Lower half wedged against the unforgiving wood, he pinned her in place for the slap of his hips as he bucked against her. Threatening to topple forward from the next vicious movement, his arms snaked around her. One hand gripping the opposite shoulder to keep her spine in a painful arch, the other at her throat to strangle her by degrees.

  Aida scrunched her eyes closed, wishing that the smooth glide of flesh against her didn’t cause that pool of heat in her belly to thrash. That his shuddering breaths on her nape didn’t make her body sing. Smothered in male musk and the overwhelming heat of him, she whined in denial of the things he incited. Worse still as the pressure against her mound fled over pain into something all too stark and real. Pleasure mounting in heady waves, crashing through her with every hard shove. Tension riddled her body, a plucked string drawn too tight and threatening to snap.

  As his thrusting became fitful, too fast and rough for her to balance against, he jerked her back against his chest. Fingers tightening over the column of her throat to silence her ragged panting, a splayed palm low on her belly pulled her into every rapid surge of his hips. He became thicker, the base of it feeling massive as it ground against her. Expanding until Aida thought it would bruise.

  Hot and thick, something spattered over her back. His rumbles and growls scalding her neck as he bit and licked at the skin, continuing to buck against her. Movements slower, rougher yet more precise as more and more wetness coated her. Sounds choked off, Aida felt that tension rise, unbearable as it shuddered through her. Straining towards something.

  Back cold and dripping as his heat left her, Aida clung to the tub frame and dared to look over her shoulder at the man who straightened despite his heaving chest and the deep flush staining his face and neck. Swiping a hand over his hair, he gave Aida a tightening of his lips before crouching to grab the soap from beneath the water once more. Tossing it onto the bath’s edge, he climbed out with an effortless grace.

  “I’m sure you can finish from here,” he said and now those terrifying eyes were chill, a wasteland of nothingness as one corner of his mouth quirked along with a single brow, gaze sliding over Aida.

  Too stunned, too full of that something that screamed for release from its cage, Aida could only stare back. Quivering with the remaining tension she watched him swagger from the room, entering her bed chamber with an air of supreme dominance.

  Sinking into the water with trembling lips and wishing for numbness, she could not fault him for it. He was her new master, and she was his to use as he saw fit. He accomplished what Otaso never had, and she felt far filthier than the scum remaining tangled in her hair for it.

  Chapter 5

  Er’it

  It took her an age to come out of the crude bathing room. Hair a sodden mess, velvety eyes red rimmed and lower lip trembling, she was somehow more pathetic than the weak creature he’d found in the dungeons. It also took every ounce of his will not to go to her purring like an idiot to soothe away the tight lines around her eyes and mouth.

  Either that or fucking her into the wall. Ruining every inch of that innocence with his thundering calls and the thickness of his cock sliding into the wet heat of her. Knotting her until her high screams echoed over the valley and well into the hills.

  Not mounting her like a cheap whore in the bath had been far more difficult. Though he hadn’t done so well with that. Er’it still didn’t understand why it had bothered him so. He should have taken her then and there, just as he’d intended. It didn’t matter if she smelled of fresh and clean things to take what he wanted. He was the king of hundreds of thousands and conquered whatever he set his eyes to. Yet the moment the heavy scent of roses had teased his nose, he’d become enraged. Making her wash with his soap, covering her in the bite of cedar and herbs. His scent, and the only one she would wear from now on other than the cold sunshine of her own intoxicating fragrance. He could still smell her on his skin, driving him mad with every breath as he lounged with casual authority in the space so imprinted with her the very stones cried her name.

  An Omega. He still had to breathe through the shock of that, the thought tingling through his spine, straight into his cock. Even with the violence of his actions explained, it continued to baffle him. The old tales and stories somehow true, sane men driven to crazed acts over the scent of one. No wonder the Black Mage coveted her so, though it made little sense why he’d offered her to Er’it as he had.

  The bitch of a maid waited behind him beside a wardrobe. They’d found her hiding in the ruins of the west wing, the lone remaining servant who had tended his little Omega. His anger at the Beta was only a little less than the rage pointed at himself. A tight cunt, no matter who it belonged to, did not deserve this level of interest from him. This one in particular had her purpose, and while he would use the Omega’s body as he saw fit before all was said and done, he needed to keep a tight rein on these ridiculous outbursts.

  It was the sheer novelty of it that entranced him so, nothing more.

  Shoving up from the chair, he snapped his fingers at the maid. Directing her to dress his Omega before he threw her onto the bed and began enacting the disturbing thoughts racing through his head. Measured strides carrying him around the room, he ignored the rustle of silks and lace, trying in vain not to imagine all that glorious skin being hidden away. She had her purpose, and he needed to see this through with a clear head for now.

  The heavy books and dusty tomes he’d pored over while the delicate beauty recovered said a great many things, all of them contradicting each other. The one thing all those ancient ones could agree upon was that the ripeness of youth, hanging in the most delicate of balances with true womanhood, was the moment of absolute power. When it could be snatched away, taken into another’s hands to control.

  They also said the Omega needed to return to her place of power. Something Otaso failed to do, which had somehow caused the destruction of his altar, his own place of power. It was the only explanation for the state the great mage had been in when Er’it stumbled upon him in the ruined wing. One look at the Omega said she was not from Aeslomor. Not with that glorious skin holding the warmth of the sun, the rich russet tones of her curling hair. She lacked the rough, hard features of its people, everything about her soft and rounded. So performing the necessary rite anywhere else was out of the question. If Er’it wanted to find the peace of a worthy victory, he would first have to find where the Omega came from.