Page 10 of Gold Sector
TALIANA
The Alpha’squestions echo through the sterile room, his tone demanding answers. Or maybe it’s just his commanding presence that makes me feel the need to obey every word.
He’s powerful.
I can feel it in his aura, taste it in his scent.
Gods, he smells good. Like a calming fire on a chilly night. Burning wood, the kind my father used when trying to keep us warm in the nomad lands.
That must be why this Alpha’s cologne puts me somewhat at ease—he reminds me of a time when I was content and safe.
But he’s asking about my father.
Asking if I want a Drakonian mate or if my dad forced me to be here.
“No,” I tell the Alpha, the word coming out with a little more force than I intended. However, I can’t let him think badly of my father. “He brought me here first. To… to offer me as an Omega.”
“That doesn’t sound very willing,” the Alpha mutters, causing me to look at him again. It’s a bold move on my part—meeting the gaze of an Alpha—but I need him to believe me. Tolistento me.
“I’m an Omega, Alpha. I can take a knot.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“Then what are you asking?” I demand and almost instantly wince when I realize I’m stepping outside of my role. “I’m sorry, Alpha. I?—”
He catches my chin, effectively halting my words, and forces me to meet his gaze again. “Do you want to be here?”
I swallow, uncertain of how to answer that. Not with him so close to me. And… and obviously angry. Right? I mean, he has to be angry. I talked back to him. Alphas don’t usually like that. My father is a bit of an exception, as he’s always been indulgent where I’m concerned.
Or, well, that’s what other Alphas have said, anyway.
He’s always encouraged me to speak my mind. Yet he warned me to obey the Alphas of Gold Sector. To not meet their gazes. To not question their authority. To… to play my part of a?—
“Taliana,” the Alpha says, my name on his lips sounding somewhat foreign.
No, not foreign…erotic. I like the way his subtle accent curls around my name, making me sound exotic. Unique.Beautiful.
I’m not quite sure how to define his lilt. It’s nothing like I’ve heard before in the nomad lands. Maybe a bit Greek?
Although, I don’t know whatGreekactually sounds like. But this land—Gold Sector—used to be a Greek Island.Santorini, my father once told me. He’s old enough to remember a time when Greece existed, his birth well preceding the Infected Era.
A time when humans ruled the world and supernaturals lived in secret among them.
Then the zombielike plague hit and wiped out most of mortal kind, as well as several supernaturals, too.
I have no idea what it was like to live back then, just the stories my father has shared with me.
“Taliana,” the Alpha says again, making me shiver. His grip loosens on my chin, his thumb leaving to trace my jaw. “Do you want to be here?”
There’s a gentleness to his tone that confuses me.Is he angry or not?I wonder, searching his gold eyes.He doesn’t look angry.He seems calm. Concerned, even.
“Does it matter what I want?” I ponder aloud, somewhat confused by his question.
“Yes. Very much.”
“Why?” I ask him.
“Because we value consent here, and if your father brought you here against your will to mate you off, I need to know.” A subtle hint of dominance flows through his words again, one that accentuates his commanding presence. It makes me want to confide in him.
