“So,” she asked breezily, “when will you be giving me another?”
Any lingering decent mood vanished and Shiloh scowled. “When he stops being so stubborn.”
The reports from Bishop were fairly plain and predictable. Sarang demanded an audience whenever the beta brought him meals or checked on him, but was clearly still set on resisting. They’d introduced the rut inducers, and Shiloh had watched the live feed from his bedroom here at Caelum via the hidden cameras he’d set up.
Sarang had fought against the effects of the drug for as long as possible, stubborn till the last. Eventually, he’d succumbed, had fucked the t-shirt Shiloh had scented in preparation for this until the garment was reduced to a mere rag. But he hadn’t once called out for him. Hadn’t begged for him to show up, or spoken nonsense like he had at Den Night.
There’d been no pretty or possessive words, even when he’d knotted his fist, a thing that had to be unsatisfactory and painful.
Alphas needed to knot the same way omegas craved to be filled during their mating periods. They’d feel driven to desperation, needing to complete a mating to relieve the discomfort. The body would misinterpret that need as a vital function, making the person feel like they were on the brink of death if they didn’t get it.
It was one of the reasons inhibitors were so important to their kind. Before the creation of such things, alphas and omegaswere forced into seclusion whenever their mating period was nearing, an act necessary for their safety and the safety of others. On Glyph, if there was a case of sexual assault during a mating period, the fault rested on the party that had gone out knowing their rut or heat was coming.
Forcing a person’s mating period was highly illegal, even on Synastry.
But Shiloh had never been bound by things as unthreatening as laws.
If he wanted his alpha to suffer for him, Sarang would do so, and for an alpha, there was no greater suffering than going through rut without a partner, or at least a toy that could simulate the feeling of a hole taking their knot.
Bishop probably thought Shiloh was doing this out of some sense of revenge for being lied to about the life-bond. While he wasn’t fond of the fact Sarang had kept that he was a hybrid from him, he’d meant every word he’d spoken to his Lefthand about the rest.
The life-bond was a blessing in disguise. Another tool that could be used against the alpha.
Shiloh wasn’t above manipulating him. Never had been. Never would be.
That’s all this boiled down to. Same end goal, different set up. He was torturing his alpha not out of some misguided need to get even, but because Sarang was still fighting him.
He’d break the older man down, reduce him to nothing but sensation and instinct, cut off his ability to think. Without that, without those thoughts swirling around Sarang’s mind, all the reasons he thought he had to deny Shiloh, he would succumb to basic biology.
He was turning Sarang’s own body against him. Was it despicable? Sure.
Would he stop?
No.
If only the alpha would cooperate and save them both some time. Ever since that first rut, Sarang had left the offered bottles of water untouched. He got thirsty at night, Shiloh knew it, had witnessed him carrying water to his bedroom for four years now, but was stubbornly refusing. If he kept this up, Shiloh was going to have to order Bishop to slip the drug into something else, but he was hesitant to risk putting it in food.
He wanted the alpha to suffer and beg for him, sure, but he didn’t want his life in jeopardy.
“Do you remember how you scolded Kian when he first brought Sky here against his will?” Sloane suddenly asked. “You weren’t wrong then, you know.”
“I’m aware what I’m doing is unforgivable,” Shiloh agreed. “But I’m not after forgiveness.”
She hadn’t seen the look on Sarang’s face when he’d realized what Shiloh truly was. Hadn’t watchedheralpha immediately choose to enter the Wardrobe in search of another bedpartner right after learning one of her dark secrets.
“He can’t handle me,” he said. “Not the real me.” And since it was too late to go back to pretending… “This is my only choice.”
“Keep telling yourself that, brother.”
“Thanks.” He pushed away from the railing. “I will.”
Kian had left behind most of their forces, relying on the branch still stationed on Synastry to help him with locating Elm. The Hierarchy consisted of several members, four of which—including the Dominus—were there. The others, those who had come to Glyph to help build on Glyphian soil, had taken to Shiloh’s command easily enough, but that didn’t mean there weren’t…questions.
The story of Sarang being rendered unconscious due to their car flipping was believable, but too much time had passedsince then. The Eumia was starting to worry, and Shiloh needed to think up a few ways to counter that concern before someone started sniffing around places they shouldn’t.
He really didn’t want to kill someone important. That type of thing led to complications, and he seriously didn’t have the energy for that shit.
Sarang was proving handful enough as it was.
