Page 63 of The King's Omega
He blew out a soft breath. “You dined at the castle? You must have met their king, Rigol?” His voice was tight, a vibrating thread of emotion. Rage? Possibly.
I wasn’t sure what answer would keep him from losing his temper. Then, across the lawn, I saw a burly, bearded officer grab Roya as she walked past. She kicked and struggled as he threw her over his shoulder and strode toward us. “This one, your Majesty!” he shouted. “I like ’em feisty. Like to break ’em in.” And then he began swatting Roya’s legs and bottom hard enough to make her cry out. “Anyone have a crop? She just won’t stop bucking.” Two men did have crops, like that was a normal thing to have at a fancy meal. Then I realized the men here were all officers, and the women, Omegas.
This was the choosing Valerie had mentioned.
Milian chuckled, as if Roya’s struggles were amusing. “Well, if you’re sure.” He turned, and the female servant who had bathed me that morning handed him a bottle of oil. Milian uncapped it and inhaled. “I can only gift one of the King’s Omegas to one of you fine officers today, along with this scent to help you enjoy her.” He tossed the bottle across to the officer, who caught it in one hand. “Lieutenant Farthan, don’t break the girl too soon. But if you do, I’m sure you’ll earn another when we take Rimholt!”
The men all cheered, and I could see the terror on Roya’s face. While I watched in horror, Farthan pulled Roya across his lap, took one of the offered crops, and raised it as if he would whip her there, in front of us all.
A goblet of wine sailed through the air, right into Farthan’s face. “Whaaaat?” Leaping out of his chair, he roared and released Roya, who quickly scrambled under the table.
Valerie stood there, hands on hips, breasts heaving, cheeks flushed. “Can’t take a real woman, can you? A little girl’s probably all you’ve got the cock for, isn’t it?” She had pulled her dress down so her nipples were peeking out and leaned forward to give the foul man a better look.
The man grabbed Valerie and the bottle of scent. “Changed my mind. I’ll take the lippy one!”
To raucous shouts of “break her!” and “teach her a lesson!” he dragged her away. Her eyes stayed on mine the whole time, filled with despair and resolve. She had sacrificed herself to save Roya.
“Such entertainment,” Milian purred in my ear. “Are you looking forward to our first night?”
A servant pulled out a chair for me, bowing low, and I thanked the Goddess for the distraction. “Thank you,” I murmured.
“Ah, ah!” Lieutenant Darvon was suddenly at my side. “I warned you not to speak to the servants.”
“You warned her, and she didn’t listen?” King Milian’s voice was an oily slither. “Hmm, you know what the scholars say about Omegas needing discipline? Where did those crops go?”
Oh, Goddess. It was time for some fast acting. “What the scholars say?” I gazed into the king’s face, eyes wide, blinking. “Don’t tell me that same scholar tricked you, too? I thought that would only work with a gullible man like King Rigol.”
The servant behind me coughed slightly.
“What do you mean?” Milian growled.
I laid a small hand on his arm, fighting every instinct to flee. “Well, there was a scholar there, a skinny one dressed in black, with a little matching cap.” Milian’s eyes narrowed. “He had some books and told King Rigol about all the things Omegas needed.”
“Yes, we’ve seen one of those books.”
“Well, the thing is, the books were wrong, or the scholar misinterpreted things. It said that Omegas liked—”
“Pain,” Darvon interrupted. “Yes, we’ve been disciplining our own Omegas for a while. They learn to like it.”
I bit my lip, trying for a pitying look. “Well, your Omegas may differ from those with their own scent… well, you know. I’m sure they’re fine. It probably doesn’t affect them like it does me.”
Darvon reddened. “What do you mean?”
“Well,” I ducked my head, trying to look embarrassed. “King Rigol had his Torturer, Vilkurn, spend some time with me. It was awful. I think he was trying to make me, you know… down there.”
“Open to him,” Milian growled. “I’ll kill him slowly for trying to steal you.” His hand covered mine, squeezing my fingers so tightly I winced.
“Well, the thing is, for an Omega like me… pain actually inhibits any response.” I shuddered. “Vilkurn tortured me for hours, and whatever it was he expected to see—he kept saying things about missing slick, or no gifts, or something—it never happened.”
I popped a grape into my mouth, pretending to consider something. “I wonder if that’s why you think your Omegas are broken. Have you been hurting them? The book King Rigol kept talking about was wrong; I laughed at him for hours after it was all over.” I lowered my voice. “There’s nothing more pathetic than a man like Rigol, who doesn’t know how to please a woman.”
Milian let out a snarl. “Well, he won’t have to worry about pleasing any woman for long.”
“Oh, why is that?”
Milian didn’t answer, but motioned for a different servant to come forward. This servant tasted everything on the king’s plate, and then we all waited for a while as a small group of musicians played a soft melody on their guitars.
I realized we were waiting to see if the man died.
