Page 4 of Dreikx

Tamey wears a plain white transparent cloth that barely covers her breasts, paired with equally transparent white cloth that leaves nothing to my imagination on the bottom. Voluptuous long red hair drapes over her likewise voluptuous body. Her eyes, though green last night, are hazel this morning, reminding me of amber in their beauty. Her Omega markings, on full display no doubt for me, stun me into silence. Tamey is fully marked. Natural tattoos, yellows and purples and greens, and not just on her face, but all over. Seductive swirls play and curl over the curves of her body. The colors are now dim, but I presume when she’s in heat, Tamey presents like a lavish colorful dream.

Her waist is small, her breasts and hips large, too large for her slender body. She’s also taller than an average Omega because her mother’s mother was a human model with long legs. Those legs round the table, and I stand, completely forgetting I was supposed to chastise her for her lateness. I open my mouth, but nothing comes out, so I snap it shut. Zero thoughts occupy my head. Inside is empty, as if a hurricane swept through it, leaving me devastated and stunned stupid.

She pecks me on the cheek. “I love fried eggs,” she says. She moves down across from me, all the way to the other end of the table large enough to seat eighteen, and piles her plate with food, then comes to sit next to me.

Her scent, though mild and unobtrusive to my sensitive nose, teases my senses with promises of carnal nights.

“It is customary,” I say, finally finding my voice, “for a bride to keep her distance until the mating hour.” I sit down and watch her because I can’t look away. Over the years, I’ve heard of Tamey’s incomparable beauty, but I never believed the rumors because they’re rumors and because flawlessness means perfection, and nothing is perfect. Perfect doesn’t exist. Statistically. Rationally. Logically. Tamey defies logic. How could a creature like her even exist?

Tamey lifts those amber eyes, and I note a spike in my heart rate. Consciously, I breathe steadily and regulate my body’s reaction.

“An hour?” she asks.

“Yes, dear. The mating hour.”

“That’s disappointing.”

I lean back. “Why?”

“It is only one hour. If you wished to perform only for one hour, you have picked the wrong bride, as my heat lasts for eleven days.”

“Eleven?” It will be like taking an extended vacation.

Tamey stuffs in a mouthful of eggs. She speaks while eating. “I am a princess of Regha with a very fertile mother.”

“I am aware of your family’s fertility. I am well versed on the history of your people. Which reminds me. I have written you a Telean people’s manual. My first gift for our mating.” I pass her the wrapped hardback.

She unwraps it. Tamey’s eyes widen. “It’s an encyclopedia.”

“Even the smallest details matter. I expect you to read it.”

“Yes, Alpha.”

“Dreikx is my name.”

“I know who you are.”

I sense a bit of a temper. Rebellion. Tamey is trying to get a rise out of me. She will fail. “Is this your usual waking hour?”

“No, Alpha.”

I grit my teeth.

She continues eating for several minutes, while I wait for her to elaborate. I tap my claw on the table, then stop the movement. The gesture reveals impatience. I can be patient.

“My usual waking hour,” she mocks my words, “is any time I feel like it after noon.”

“This will change.”

“Yes, Alpha.”

A growl rises from my chest and travels up my throat, but I clear it before I can show agitation. “I eat breakfast at eight o’ clock sharp. You will join me.”

“Yes—”

I interrupt, “Find another name for me.”

She smirks. “I don’t have another name. My brain capacity is shallow, and all I’m capable of is what I’ve always known, Alpha.”

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