Page 24 of The Omega's Unexpected Bounty
It’s not the first time I did something stressful. Gunfights, rescuing Nate, and a host of other adventures were in my head. At least my life wasn’t in danger here.
So why does this scare me more?
***
“Any questions?” asked Graden.
I looked at the tanned and thick Soturi dressed in similar brown leggings. Like me Graden was bare-chested, but there wasn’t a collar onhim. Per ‘tradition’, I was his, and therefore the one to claim. My gaze went to two rows of purple flecks as if they were an arrow down to his crotch.What would claiming that be like?
I shook my head back to reality. “No, the implant told me enough. Sit at the center table, nod to the prominent guests, make sure royalty from other kingdoms and the Ryba are acknowledged. Stand by your side when needed, clasp our hands, raise them together when directed.” My lips pressed together hard. “Go through the motions.”
Something unreadable went over his face. Maybe he was thinking about how fake all this was. He reminded me of the bounties I went after. You could have a decent enough life on New Texas without resorting to crime. The Volardi made sure nobody ever went hungry, but there were always a few who wanted more from life; credits or excitement. Robbery, smuggling or anything profitable satisfied both needs. Wanting and doing it were different things. I suspected it was the same with Graden. The ceremony made it real instead of a temporary deal.
“Let’s get seated,” he said and led me down the pit for us to sit.
Per tradition, Graden and I sat in the middle at a triangular table. He was Soturi and sat at the top point, I was to the right. If we had a middle mate – a Dara, he would have been on the other end. On the outer table were Graden’s father, and his brother. Short and thick green-grey Ryba males were at the tables. They looked like they were frowning with bared teeth, but it was their default look. The women were taller – overall grey but with multicolor stripes around them and hair that looked like brown and blue seaweed. They were the mates and guards; deadly and with a military stance as they stared back.
A random assortment of Volardi men in various shades of skin and hair color sat on the outer tables. I saw none smaller than myself. I couldn’t see around me, and I knew I didn’t like it. Back home on New Texas, Ialwayssat with my back to the wall. Plenty of technology could see and shoot through walls. It was more of a mental thing. I liked being able to know what was coming toward me even if I wasn’t sure if I could take care of it myself. Fortunately, our table was small so we could talk to each other.
“How does it feel?” I asked as I tugged at my collar.
Graden’s smile was quick. “Like in a dream.” I grinned, and it left when he continued. “Like it’s not real. Does it make sense?”
It did I and told him as much. His eyebrows rose as did my volume. Thankfully I knew enough to lower my voice, so nobody heard.
Slender, muscled men came in with trays of food. Generally, Volardi didn’t eat animals. It wasn’t ethical, just no need for it. Their Smart-Boxes could recreate nearly anything including meat. New Texas farmers sold cattle as pets or used the milk and butter – but never cheese, Volardi hated it. I enjoyed it in small doses, but I never got sick from it. Figured it was something about my mixed biology.
Good-looking men my size with flecked chests but none with purple stripes sat plates on the other tables. I saw shells, gelatinous blobs, and seaweed crab-like creatures. Either they were recreated, or this kingdom didn’t follow all traditions.
“Looking for something?” asked Graden. He smiled, and I think it was genuine.
“Yes,” I admitted. “There’s no Femeni or Omegas.”
“Well, you’re wrong.” He gestured behind me.
I blinked at the wide, dark-haired Soturi the implant identified as Matros – ruler of their neighboring island kingdom. His purple stripe was wide as were his muscles. They were bigger than Graden’s and ‘bulgier’ than I preferred. Graden’s was more defined, but Matros’ werebig. If we were back on New Texas, he was a guy who would pick you up and throw you across the saloon. Graden was the kind that ducked and used his fists. Different men, but neither one you wanted to fight.
Without thought, I smiled at the light brown-haired, bare-chested Omega at Matros’ side. He didn’t have the purple specs on his chest, and instead of purple eyes, they were brown. His cheekbones were higher, and he was shorter than I.
“He’s from your people’s world – Earth. From the first generation. Peter’s given our empire dozens of children. Access the implant if you want more information.” I blinked away the implications and math as chills went down my arm. An Omega could have four pregnancies a year, plus a few months, but it was deemed cruel. Still, dozens over two decades meant he was busy.Damn.
Peter’s smile was pleasant enough, and I hoped I gave him a respectful one in return. I’ve never seen another Omega or Femeni here. Balo didn’t present his yet, and I wondered what his mate would be like. Despite Volardi rhetoric about learning their lessons from the Gloom War, our sex wasn’t seen in public much. There were excuses; it would drive unbonded Volardi wild, remind others of what they lost, and losing a single Omega or Femeni meant the loss of dozens if not more children over a lifetime. The galaxy was too dangerous, and we needed protection – according to them.
My hands overlapped, and I stared at Peter. He was from the time where the Volardi were more desperate than they were now andhewas allowed out. His mate didn’t have an Alpha-hole vibe. From what the implant told me, this kingdom, and theirs was on reasonably good terms. Only Balo’s push to join the Separatists caused any strife.
Peter’s gaze darted to the right. He was far away, but I’m sure I saw him tremble. He gazed behind me, and he whispered to his mate Matros. The man who previously stared with a severe look frowned and stood up quickly as did Peter. Both pointed while the surrounding conversation stopped. Matros shouted. “What is thatflekdoing here?
I stared at Nate’s wide-eyed expression while a room full of royalty, and guards trained in deadly combat approached him with weapons both long and sharp.
Oh hell.
***
Chapter Fourteen
GRADEN
“I’ll kill you,” screamed Matros as he vaulted over the table, while grey-skinned female Reba moved to intercept. Faster than his large frame implied, he ducked their blades, poles, and clubs and continued toward Caan’s father.
