Corrupted (Alpha's Claim Book 5), Addison Cain [top 20 books to read TXT] 📗

silk of Brenya’s dress was soft? The fabric covering bruises and aching bite marks in pure white lied. It confined, rubbed where she ached—a constant reminder that she had been claimed roughly, used horribly.

Nervous fingers went from tugging at her too tight collar to smoothing back fallen strands of hair. She had rushed, and the bound-up mass held with a comb of glittering stones had slipped. Surprise, the most idiotic way to confine hair imaginable failed should she move at anything but a glacial pace.

Jacques had dressed her to his tastes. Meticulous, his fingers had been careful with each button down her spine. He’d drawn a brush through her hair as if the lightest tangle might leave her in tears.

Yet he had confined her in misery and inconvenience.

And then he had deemed it was time jewelry should be considered. Would Brenya be willing to pierce her ears? “Just a quick prick,” he’d said, fleeting pain that could be soothed as quickly as it came.

Her resounding “no” inspired the Alpha to cock a brow.

Which meant she had already lost.

The Commodore’s promises, interpretations, and manipulations—his way of asking by taking.

He may have been wallowing in his conquest, their pair-bond, and the joy it brought to his being, his feelings may have overshadowed all she was, but for a moment, her distrust and resentment were greater. She hated when he asked her opinion as if it might matter or alter his course.

She hated it.

Sour feeling poured right out of her into him, a choking miasma of uncontrolled anger. The homunculus of her rage grew as if a physical thing. Rising to stand over her, the look of shock upon his face had been followed by a sneer..

He reached out as if he was going to touch her… again… and Brenya fell into full retreat.

Eyes narrowing, the Alpha’s purr ceased—a vulnerable moment between surprise and defensiveness, which gave him away. Jacques Bernard, Commodore of Bernard Dome, would ultimately destroy her.

All the sooner if she could not rein in her disgust.

She took a deep breath, composed herself, and relaxed her jaw. As did the monster facing her.

“I’ll ask again, Brenya. May I pierce your ears?” He touched her immediately, as if nothing untoward had passed between them. Gently stroking her hair, Jacques offered what some might consider a timid flirtation. “I have jewels more ancient than old Paris rotting to the north. They would shine like your eyes.”

Much calmer, Brenya repeated her refusal. “No.”

Male fingers toyed with her earlobe, massaging the flesh as the Alpha considered. “Queens wear their king’s jewels, mon chou.”

“You are not a king. You are a Commodore.” And a male whose eyes she could no longer bear to meet.

 “Why, today, must everything be negotiated or bought?” The forceful wave of Jacques’ frustration battered against the fragile wall between his presence and where she tried to find a place of her own. “I am your Alpha, you are my Omega. Trust in your design to follow where I lead. Your ears should be pierced so I can give you gifts.”

She had let him dress her, tend her wounds, press his kisses to her skin, paint her face, style her hair. She’d eaten from his hand, submitted to his perversions. She had followed, because she was utterly trapped in the prison of him. But this, this hill she was willing to die on.

They were her ears, and he’d already put enough things in her. “No, thank you.”

“Brenya, I swear to you that loving me will come easily and naturally if only you would surrender.” Fingers trailed down her arms until Jacques swept her hand into his. Holding them to his heart, he smiled beautifully. An inner radiance burned where the link forcefully pulled between them, searing through her dark disinterest.

As if set aflame, her sad barricade burned to ash under his influence. Expression crumpling into anguish, she shook under his touch and fell open to him in the most intimate of ways.

“There you are, mon chou.” Kissing her fingertips, Jacques smiled. “Like a frightened bird in my hand, wings fluttering as it learns to be tame and trust.”

He wasn’t wrong. Whatever part of her he touched through the link was flailing, grasping desperately for peace or apathy that was slipping out of reach. It was as if there were two of her. Or perhaps, just one of her that was being ripped right down the middle. It was either concede or lose herself totally.

So that comforting darkness was stolen away when self-preservation trumped desire. Her splitting, battered psyche gave up its sad, clawing attempts at succor before it was broken completely like an over-loved toy.

Better the body than the mind.

And this Alpha had done ghastly things to her body. He would do them again. His arms had already swept her into an embrace. He purred with renewed vigor—a loud rattle that shook off the greater part of her desperation.

And all she could offer to combat the utter enormity of what made up Jacques Bernard was a mournful, pathetic croon. “Leave one part of me the way I was before.”

The weight of his long sigh was nothing to the weight of his internal annoyance. “We will discuss the topic at another time. More importantly, dear mate, perhaps this isn’t a good day for you to meet with Annette.”

“You promised.”

“Brenya….”

Her façade cracked, the desperate bird he described fluttering against its cage as she hid her face in his shirt. “I let you do what you did, because you promised I could see Annette. What worth is your word?”

How strange it was. Insulting him verbally, he ignored. The Alpha was only focused on the incongruous link. Going so far as to wave off her statement, he went back to tucking her hair into the combs. “She won’t be the Annette you remember. I have caught up on every report. The Beta rations have been extremely effective. Let me find you a new companion.”

The wave crashed—the rage. It broke, it led to a curled lip and a