Page 12 of Dark Company

“There are many factors, Clan Mother. If she has been given suppressants for an extended amount of time, which I suspect is the case, it will be hard to prove.”

Everything freezes. Time stands at a complete still. Though there shouldn’t be any way that I’m an omega, the idea that I could be transformed into a beta by false means sticks out like a jagged edge into my brain. Could this be something that Annora would have done? But for what purpose? If I were in fact an omega, my life would have been perfect.

I wouldn’t have had to suffer the indignity of a pauper's diet or have had to face the drudgery of school. I could have been a goddess amongst mortality, given to any Alpha of my choosing. If she took this from me, if she denied me the future I so longed for, then there’s no way I could ever forgive her.

Tremors rack my body as my brain rewinds deep into the past, looking for anything that could be suspicious. I never had to question things before, so everything seemed normal. Annora had an explanation for everything. The contacts were because our eyes were abnormal and sensitive. Our supplements were because we had a gene that kept us frail and unhealthy; that’s why we stayed so small despite how much we ate.

By being in this desert hellhole, I’ve had to forgo my supplements, taking them in much smaller doses to have at least something each day. But even then, I haven’t felt any worse. The food hasn’t suddenly disappeared into my body, leaving me even skinner and hungrier. In fact, it’s quite the opposite.

My chest has been slowly increasing, but I figured that was because I was approaching the day of womanhood. It could still be because of that, but what if my entire life was a lie? How could so many women here claim to know that I’m an omega just by being in my presence, yet Annora kept insisting that I was a beta?

The need to know claws at my brain, demanding that I speak. “My lord, beta Jakrob, do you can test substances as well as dynamics?”

For a moment, he stays silent, refusing to answer me. It’s not until the Clan Mother gives a slight nod of her head that he answers my question. “Our lab is rudimentary compared to the ones you’re familiar with in Stanlion, but I can identify many things. It depends on the sample size and if we have something to compare it with.”

I kneel there for several moments, hoping that I’m not about to do something that will jeopardize my health or life. Reaching into my shirt, my fingers brush along the inside of the fabric until I find the small, hidden pocket. I placed one in all of my clothes when I arrived to smuggle the things that meant most dear.

If I were at home on Stanlion, I’d probably put extra respirators in there, so that I was never without a certain color or bit of flair. But here, in the deadly desert, my priorities have shifted. I now hoard my pills and, until they were destroyed by the harsh environment, my extra contacts. All three watch with rapt attention as I pull out of the few pills I have left and give it to Jakrob.

The white pill is a stark contrast to his sun-beaten skin, so that it almost shines in comparison. “What is this supposed to be?”

I don’t want to tell him. I don’t want to catch Annora in a lie or, even worse, have to be confronted with the truth. “It’s supposed to be a supplement, the only thing keeping me from being sick. I’ve been taking them for as long as I can remember.”

Jakrob and Bedrel look at each other for a moment before Jakrob bows low and disappears once more into the swath of curtains behind the Clan Mother. Shame and unease flit through my body at interchanging intervals, until nausea bubbles up through my body, threatening to choke me on the bile.

Heat rises through my core as my fingers flit about in uncontrollable movements. I pick at the strings coming off of my shirt as they lay there in a haphazard pattern. Nothing is correct. Nothing looks right. How long has it been since I took a pill?

I didn’t think I was feeling any ill-effects from going without, but once more, I’m lying to myself. I’ve been feeling uneasy, but it’s never been enough to make me think I was sick or something. But now? Now that a perfect stranger has my pills, I’m feeling the loss of just that one pill.

One more pill to get me through the day.

One more pill until Annora will find me and tears me away from this place.

One more pill until I’m able to breathe the cool air of Stanlion.

The curtains pull back as Jakrob bursts through. He doesn’t say a word. Instead, he stares at me for several moments before leaning down and whispering into the Clan Mother’s ear. She looks back at me and blinks, her knowing gaze sending zips of agony through my stomach.

There is something wrong. Either the pills are wrong, or I’m dying. It has to be one of the two. There can’t be any other recourse. All three of them leave, the curtains swallowing their form, until I’m alone in the massive tent. Alone with my thoughts, alone with my demons.

Eyeing the pillows where the Clan Mother was sitting, something deep within me wants to put them to rights. But how are they wrong? What about this is wrong? The way the corners jut out is not pleasing to me. They vex me almost as much as Brennen’s insistence on showing me his holy shaft. Gods, there is something wrong with me.

Laying my feverish head down onto the cool sand, I lie there, allowing my brain to drift into nothingness. The scrape of the rough sand against my face is almost soothing. It directs my brain onto other things. Here, there is no right or wrong. There’s just feeling, sensations.

Sparks of images cross my synapses, forcing my brain to think of memories I’ve tried so hard to repress. A song, strong arms encircling me. A kind face of a man as he peers into my soul before tossing me into the air. I float there, hovering on the edge of consciousness as vibrations flow through my body.

Strong arms grip me, hauling me up, breaking through the dream that made me feel so safe and secure. Still, the words of the song hover on my lips and in my brain. It’s the song Annora sang to me as a child, but this voice is not hers. These arms are not hers.

Annora is not who goes with me in the face of death. Instead, it’s my parents that are long-ripped from me. Annora does not speak of them often, but when she does, there’s a sadness that flows out of her. It supersedes any other emotion that I’ve felt wafting off of her, so much so that I refrain from asking. I don’t talk about them, but then, I don’t have to.

They haunt my dreams, calling to me in my sleep, singing their song as I drift off. Even now it reverberates in my ears as those strange hands drag me from the safety of the sand and into the curtains they all disappeared behind.

The Clan Mother looks at me, the tears of sorrow dancing in her eyes as she stares at me. I am about to die then. A soft smile flits across my lips as the voices in my mind reach their zenith, singing away my terror until I’m nothing but soft putty in the hands of the one who grips me so tightly. Jakrob. It has to be. He’s the only one missing from this triad.

My love, my love, don’t cry.

Let the suns guide you.

Let the moons shield you.