Page 30 of Dark Company

How long did I wish to wear this mark? How many times did I draw this symbol on my other wrist, sending Annora into a conniption when she saw it? This branding means nothing. It’s just a way for Stanlion to control us, corral us. For the first time in my life, I wish my arm looked like Ladria’s fresh, virginal, without the mark of my station.

What an odd trio we make. If you had asked me even a month ago how I felt about Stanlion in general, and omegas specifically, I probably would have waxed poetic about the High Sanctum and the love an Alpha has for his mate. But now that my eyes have been opened, I see Stanlion for what it really is. I no longer wish to be an omega. Something scared Ladria enough to leave when she was still too young to understand the repercussions.

What was it about Stanlion and its Alphas that made me hold it in such high esteem? Truthfully, I can’t even remember. Three weeks and the threat of a heat, and all of it disappears like a mirage in the desert. For all its pomposity, Stanlion is rotten to the core. They use the gods to strip others of their choices. They use them as a club whenever they see fit.

Where Stanlion wanted me to hide my body in shame, this commune wants me to show it off, to let others glory in what the gods have given to me. But still, it sits uneasily in my gut, like a heavy metal or those damned Sector One vegetables that Annora tried to make me eat all my life. Now that I have the promise of everything, I know I will never enjoy it.

My life has been tainted by Stanlion. It doesn’t matter that the Clan Mother tells me I’m free; I never will be again. I’ll remain a prisoner in my own mind and heart, forever fettered to that place by the mark I wear on my wrist. While it still shines out, the soft green a splash of agony in the shape of something beautiful, I’ll never be able to let myself loose.

I’ve seen too much. I’ve learned too much. It doesn’t matter that I’m not the same beta that ran away. It doesn’t matter that I now stand here, an omega in my own right. I will forever belong to Stanlion and beholden to their beliefs. I want to believe differently. I want to be transformed, to be free like Alexi, but it will never happen. I am Stanlion, unwavering, unshattered, and unloved. Because that’s what Stanlion is. It’s a place where people live to die.

There are no love matches. There’s no beauty in the suffering or pain. There’s just a stark ugliness that I will never escape. Even in death, it will haunt me. It will be the last thing I see as I close my eyes for my final sleep.

I see it now when I truly look at Ladria and Alexi. There’s a haunting emptiness that resides in their hearts. I only know it because I, too, have that same void where my heart once lived. No amount of sex will ever make that feel better. It won’t bring back the wasted years of dreaming of something I knew nothing about.

I don’t want to be a slave to my body, to be forced into these heats. I don’t want to be beholden to a man. There’s nothing romantic about it. After I get through with the ceremony and lie with a man, as is dictated, I’ll never again succumb. Not unless my heat forces me to.

Alexi leads me over to a small chair in front of a mirror and helps ease me down. My reflection is not the same. I’m no longer the young, naive girl that primped and prettied myself, hoping an Alpha would notice me and somehow desire my beta cunt over that of an omega. It was stupid. Time, money, and energy wasted.

Those Alphas would never see me as anything other than a vessel to slack their lusts. Without a bond, what’s the point? Just because Annora said that father loved mother enough that he didn’t care, it doesn’t mean those Alphas are the same. Nothing good will ever come of Stanlion. Besides, even if an Alpha ever chose to love me, it wouldn’t be the same. Our parents came from a different time where Alphas were honorable.

Deep inside, though I still harbor a rage for my sister that will not die, it’s shifted slightly, allowing some of the anger to drip and slither over into the part of me that used to love Stanlion. Maybe it’s just as well that I’m here, gods know how far away. With the way I’m feeling, there’s no guarantee that I wouldn’t snap at my sister the same way I did with Alexi and Ladria.

I stare into the mirror, watching Alexi take a gilded brush and run it through my hair while Ladria takes a file to my jagged nails. This is what I imagined life to be like in the High Sanctum—pampered, prettied, catered too. But now, instead of pleasure unfurling through my body, it’s replaced with bile. This is what I wanted. This.

Closing my eyes, I swallow back the hurt and rage, keeping it locked inside. No good will come of losing it. I don’t want to see the hurt on their faces again. Besides, if I bottle it up, the only one that will suffer is me.

The suns loom high in the sky as the Clan Mother leads me to the statue. For some reason, he looks far larger than before, and for a moment, a tendril of uneasiness crawls through my stomach. The large phallus looms up at me, tempting me, taunting me, and though my body cries out to be filled, my mind stirs up like loose sand caught in an unexpecting gust.

The unease eddies through my body, coiling, slithering, filling my veins with some unknown dread. I cannot even hear the words that she’s saying over the pounding of my own heart. The crowd looks up at me, expectant faces gazing up at my own. I have to choose.

Mouth dry, I scan the males, looking for that shaft of light, the sign from the gods that he will be the one to fuck me on the stones for all to watch. Tears gather as my eyes land on each of them, my brain revolting at the hungry looks on their faces. I grip at the flowers in my hands, crushing the tiny stems in my anxiety.

The stench of their arousal swirls up at me, choking me, until all I can do is close my eyes and point. There’s no use in actually trying to choose. None of them will give me what I need, and I know that. If only I was still presenting as a beta, then none of this would matter. I wouldn’t have this need that ricochets through my body yet recedes every time I look at their unwashed bodies.

With my choice selected, the crowd erupts into cheers. I open my eyes, once more hoping that perhaps some light will fall upon him, but it never does. He looks to be not much bigger than I am. He’ll never wrap me in his arms and make me feel safe. Hell, he’ll probably never be able to fill me as well as this statue.

Dropping my head, I climb up the small stairs and make my way to straddle the phallus. The unknown beta climbs up to the lower dais, his cock bobbing as he stares at me with a gleam in his eyes. I stare down at the pitiful display between his legs and allow a few tears to fall.

This statue better ease that ache between my thighs. If not, then I don’t know what I’ll do. Straddling the phallus, I stare down at it, feeling that familiar wetness gathering. It will help ease me down. Looking up to the stone face, I reach up, needing to feel something, anything but icy silence.

My white gown sticks to my body as sweat pours off of me. I want to tear it off and throw it to the hungry crowd, but right now, it’s the last bit of protection I have from their roving eyes. It doesn’t matter that they can’t see through the gauzy material; it stretches in such a way that leaves very little to the imagination.

Looking down, I study my breasts, noting how they press against the fabric, lifting it high off of my body. They’re so much larger than they were just a few days ago. So many changes in so negligible amount of time. I can’t even keep up with it. I long to slide my hands over them, to touch them, to see if they feel any different, but I don’t dare in front of these strangers.

Instead, I drop them back to my side, letting the flowers fall from my limp fingers to cover the dais below. A small gust of wind teases my face and sends the loose petals dancing in the breeze. It’s such a pleasant contrast between that and the sweltering sun. A small smile lifts my lips as I once more stare at the stone face of Xiarius.

It is time.

The air rents in two as a bellowing roar quivers my insides. My body throbs in response, far more than when Alexi was teasing me. Holding my hands to my stomach, I nearly drop to my knees as the incessant sound rumbles over my skin. Gasps and shrieks flood my ears as I turn to look out, unsure of what’s happening. A shaft of light glints up at me, nearly blinding me, obscuring the figure at the edge of the commune.

A figure bathed in light. Can it be that the gods are revealing who I should sleep with? Is it too late to change my mind? Holding my hand over my eyes, I stare as the figure moves forward, revealing his bulky form. He’s massive. Bigger than any Alpha I have ever seen. The closer he gets, the harder my body throbs. It’s as if his very footsteps are connected to my heart, making it tremble with his heavy tread.

Then I see it. The uniform, the mark flashing from his wrist whenever he moves just the right way, the respirators. He’s a soldier from Stanlion. My mind and body war with each other as his hulking form draws near. His muscles bristle under the uniform with every movement, as if just one wrong step and he’ll burst free from the confining fibers.

More wetness gathers as his brow raises while he stares up at me. All around, the betas and omegas quiver, their bodies down on the ground in supplication—even the Clan Mother. What was going on? Flicking my gaze back to his, I study the crystalline depths, as if they somehow know the secret.

“Do you hear me, Karis?”