Page 74
Soren
“What the hell are you doing here?”
The door to the cell is standing wide open. I could shift. Tear his throat out right here and now. My Beast is fucking salivating at the thought, and I allow myself three heartbeats to revel in the fantasy before locking my bloodlust down.
“Gavran wants an update on the Omega.” The asshole doesn’t even look at me when he answers, keeping his eyes pointedly fixed on Lenora.
At the entrance to our cell, he hesitates, like he’s not sure if he should take that final step. His grey eyes wander to the stone bench—and my unconscious Omega—flashing with something I don’t recognize.
Then his face smooths into a mask of forced confidence he probably thinks I can’t see through and he takes a purposeful stride across the threshold and into the cell.
My Alpha bristles along with my Beast, both primal sides of me on edge with him so close to my injured Omega.
My Alpha’s pissed—pointing out that this is her spot. Her Nest—however shitty—and this Alpha didn’t even ask permission to come in.
That pushes me over the edge.
“Out!” I point over his shoulder, advancing on him with the full intention of throwing him across the room—just like I did last night.
I hate this male. I hate the way he looks at Idril like something to be controlled. Just another piece in his world for him to maneuver.
Daxen’s eyes narrow incredulously. “Try it, and I’ll have you removed quicker than you can shift.”
I bark a disbelieving laugh. “Oh, I’d love to see you try.”
Lenora appears between us, and I back up, returning to stand beside Idril as she turns to Daxen and says, “I’m actually glad you’re here.”
Daxen backs up as well until he’s leaning against the bars on the opposite side of the cell. At Lenora’s words, he folds his arms over his chest and lifts a skeptical brow.
“Is that so?”
Lenora’s expression changes, twisting with disgust. I can only see her profile, but I can still see the scathing glare she aims at Daxen.
“I’m going to give you a lesson I want you to pass on to the rest of your little friends,” she tells him, coolly.
“I didn’t come here for a lesson,” Daxen responds. “I came for—”
“Tough shit,” she snaps, cutting him off. I find myself smiling as this little Beta who smells like roses squares up to big, bad Daxen. “Just in case you were all genuinely unaware, Alpha Command works on Omegas because it is, at its core, a neurological override.”
“I know what a—”
“Obviously not,” she snaps with a defiant lift of her chin. “So allow me to enlighten you. Alphas are given the ability to Command for one reason. To protect their Omegas. Its primary function is to keep an Omega alive—safe.”
Daxen swallows thickly, gaze shifting over Lenora’s shoulder to land on my Omega. The Beta steps forward, demanding his attention as she continues.
“The problem, of course, is that an Omega’s body isn’t built to withstand repeated overrides. When Commands are stacked, the Omega’s nervous system goes into shock. Her biology—her very fucking soul—interprets the overload as an attack from inside.”
The Beta’s so close that if Daxen were two heads shorter, she’d be spitting in his face. Her lips peel back from her teeth, and she sneers.
“Alpha Command is not designed to be used as a fucking weapon.”
She holds his stare until he looks away, shifting awkwardly on his feet.
He’s clearly uncomfortable, but I doubt it’s because he’s feeling remorse. That emotion requires a fucking soul.
“Do you want to know what happens when you force a malnourished, exhausted, overworked, emotionally unstable Omega to answer impossible questions?”
She doesn’t wait for an answer, pointing at Idril behind her emphatically. “That’s what happens.”
