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Bernard Dome
Drowningin one man’s phantom pleasure while filled with another man’s cock… that was how Brenya Perin would perish.
Blown apart, eclipsed, ground into powder and brushed away like dust.
Around her the Red Room burned under the setting sun, light slanting through its towering windows, lacquered walls catching slanted beams of gold and throwing them back tinged crimson. The dying light made everything shine as if wet, bloody. On the table, dinner grew cold. Stew abandoned in its bowl, bread uneaten beside a half-empty cup of cool water.
Condensation gathered on that glass, trailing slowly down the side, one bead after another, like the sweat on her brow.
Brenya missed all of this. Her eyes locked on the unnervingly composed man standing over her.
Like her, Jules wore a black button-down shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbow, exposing the intricate black marks decorating strong forearms. The same shirt he stripped from his body eachnight to dress her in after she’d bathed. One he pulled over her shoulders before buttoning her up slowly from hem to collar.
Fabric always warm from his skin, rich with comforting Beta scent.
He’d trained her to associate the delicious smell of him with safety. Built a life around her where his presence was always sanctuary. And then he’d donethisto her.
Left her at the mercy and cruel whims of another.
Reminded Brenya of her place as an Omega claimed by two dangerous males in a twisted three-way pair-bond she could only ever run from… but never escape. Reinforced the sad reality that it was futile to try. Trapped, as she was, in the clutches of an Alpha monster who was now awake and reaching for her through their link.
Sheltered in the Red Room by a Beta villain who watched her flounder.
Owned by both.
Those limpid blue eyes stared down at her helplessness. Unnaturally bright, so vivid… yet impossible to read. His still, engulfing presence one she’d used to flee Jacques’s violent, manipulative pull more times than she could count. Jules’s mental ocean of unending darkness, his calm sea, nowhere to be found now.
And she tried. Reached for his sanctuary with her mind as he denied her.
Staring. Waiting. Palm open. Demand made.
Did the Beta feel elation to have her wriggle on his hook? Know sadness to see her suffer? Was a man like Jules capable of feelinganythingother than the desire for her he claimed consumed him?
He’d placed Jacques in a medically induced coma for weeks so the Alpha could not torment her while she’d healed. Mentally. Surgically.
Repaired the damage Jacques’s cock had done to her when he’d raped her in the street. Gave her back a fully functioning vaginal canal.
Waited until her body had responded on its own to truly tempt.
And it had. Slicking. Seizing. Begging. A drenched, eager reaction to nothing but the imprisoned Alpha’s distant, furious rut and his manipulation of the pair-bond… forcing her to feel every bit of male pleasure. Her cunt ripening, salivating for a knot only an Alpha could give her.
And Jules was a Beta. A Beta who had put her in this humiliating position.
Wide-eyed, Brenya’s expression twisted into heartbroken betrayal as her body pitched toward the cusp of climax against her will. Fingers gripping the edge of the polished wooden chair beneath her, knuckles bone-white, her insides flipped and convulsed, acting out orgasm, though her body remained empty and untouched.
All while Jules stood silently over where she writhed in her chair, his fixed gaze a ruthless anchor, arm still outstretched… waiting for her to take his hand.
To invite him into her nest.
The Beta, her husband, absorbed every tic, each helpless twitch and spilled tear, witnessing the dying of a star as Brenya failed in her instinctual, pointless effort to disconnect. Only to explode again with another orgasm as every part of her she had so carefully patched together in the quiet weeks in Jules’s gentle captivity was torn apart.
Somewhere tucked away, Jacques Bernard was fucking Lucia.
And he wassufferingat the feel of another’s cunt.
The Alpha hated it.
