The Omega Within (Alpha's Woman Book 5) Read online

  She thought the torture she was being put through was going to go on forever, and her ass certainly felt like it already had. But then he came to squat by her head again, totally ignoring the fact that he was standing in a pool of her tears.

  Garron lifted her chin so that he could look into her red, swollen eyes—which were in much the same condition as the other end of her.

  "Ten more, two handed. So, brace yourself."

  There was no way to do that, no way to prepare herself in any way for what it felt like to have him take a full shouldered swing at her ass—and no way to deal with the fiery pain once he set it loose on her—mercilessly—all ten times. This time, there was no pause. He delivered them all in a row, leaving her writhing mindlessly in a sea of misery.

  He let her go, checking her skin for bruises where she'd been bound and rubbing them to get the circulation going back into her hands and feet, then helping her to stand up while she continued to keen and sob from behind the gag, which he hadn't removed, despite the fact that she was doing everything she could not to. She didn't want to show weakness in front of him—turning away as soon as she could—but she couldn't seem to stop.

  He surprised her by turning her back around and lifting her up against his now naked body, and she found the contact excruciatingly wonderful—almost but not quite enough to distract her from the agony he'd left her in. If she was incredibly aware of how he made her feel before, having been disciplined heightened those unfamiliar feelings even further, making her want to rub her entire body against his.

  "Wrap your legs around my waist," he commanded.

  That would leave her very vulnerable to him—as if she wasn't already, her mind countered. He could do anything to her that he wanted to and there was absolutely nothing she could do to stop him.

  As she fought it out with what little remained of her rational brain, he lowered his chin and looked out at her from beneath drawn brows. "Ollyah, do as you are told, or both you and the paddle will sing again tonight."

  That fate was to be avoided at all costs, was her primary thought, even though it left her feeling humiliated that she would cave so easily to his demands. But fighting him and herself, and truly not wanting to be punished again today—or ever—by him had her slowly, and with a reluctance she didn't bother to hide, curving her legs around his substantial waist.

  He was so big, she couldn't hope to lock her feet behind him, and she was very aware that she was dependent on him not dropping her.

  As her naked privates settled against his somewhat hairy lower belly—which had her startling away from that kind of contact the first time—she felt something gush out from between her legs and onto him, which had her bursting into tears again.

  But Garron was wearing a ridiculously proud grin. "Ahh, there you are. I was wondering if the paddling might stop that entirely, but I guess not. I intend to devote a certain amount of time to discovering whether it contributed to the production of your cream."

  Olly had no idea what he was talking about. She was too busy being mortified at what she'd done, thinking that she'd either peed on him or that she was beginning her first time of the month.

  Then he reached down to grip her throbbing behind, squeezing each cheek cruelly and using his hold to move her down his body and a good way away from him.

  Feeling as if she was going to fall or be dropped, Olly automatically grabbed onto first his shoulders, which were really too broad for her to get much purchase, then around his neck, which, surprisingly, wasn't that much easier, but then, it was a very thick neck.

  "I'm not going to drop you or allow you to fall, little one," he reassured, but not before she grabbed onto him with surprising strength and a not unwelcome display of her being quite frantic to do so.

  The—granted—fleeting look she gave him let him know that she didn't have much faith in his word, but instead of being angry at that, he felt the strange urge to smile at her, an impulse which he eschewed in favor of catching the very broad tip of his cock against her entrance.

  Garron looked down at her again, trying to interpret her expression, which was another unusual impulse for him. Either she knew exactly what was going to happen and was unconcerned about it, or she had no idea at all. He knew better than to think that the latter was a possibility, considering that he knew from where Mach usually found the people he sold.

  But that didn't matter to him. She was definitely not bonded to any other Alpha, or they would have been locked in mortal combat at this moment. It was more than enough to him merely to possess her. And he intended to do so as fully as possible and as quickly as possible.

  With that thought, he wrapped an arm around her, pinning her arms uselessly to her sides as he did so, holding her still so that he could insert himself into her, intent on doing so in one decisive stroke. But he couldn't. Even as she gushed copiously around him, she was too damned tight.

  It took a minute for what that meant to sink into his lust-addled brain. She was a virgin. He was going to be her first—her only, if he had anything to say about it—Alpha.

  That thought had him roaring loudly again, drawing back and slamming himself into her, not allowing her body to deny him, plunging into her until he could feel that he was nudging up against the bottom of her cunt, her slick walls clamping down around him fit to milk him dry even before he got started.

  Olly, however, was not feeling anywhere near the joy that he was. In fact, she'd screamed from behind the gag when he'd forced his way into her and was now actively trying to get away from him, trying to fight her way out of his arms and, more importantly, off his cock.

  All he had to do to stop her ridiculously pathetic attempts to get away, though, was to haul her tightly up against him, and she wasn't going anywhere until he allowed her to. And Garron couldn't think that was going to be any time soon, if his balls—that felt fit to burst—had anything to say about it. And they had everything to say.

  She was whimpering and sniffling and crying and still trying to resist him, so he doubled his hold on her by snaking his other arm around her, too, and finding that it made it very easy to keep her still and penetrate her at will, lifting her easily up and down that huge, stiff rod of his while he hammered himself into her.

  Olly was held, utterly unable to move, as he jammed his pole like cock into her. Each time he entered her, doing so fully, such that she could feel the demanding head of his cock nudging rudely against the tip of her cervix.

  Slowly, and very much against her will, what he was doing to her began to feel good. Her lust was beginning to override her anger, and she tried to gasp and bite her lip from behind the gag when he impaled her the next time.

  But then he moved in a particular way and she felt something hard and sharp pierce the flesh inside her, anchoring him to her in such a painful manner that she nearly fainted. And the base of his cock began to swell, just inside her newly opened entrance, stretching her much more than his mere presence had been doing for the past few minutes, growing to such a proportion that they were locked together. She couldn't rid herself of him now until he had emptied himself completely within her.

  She was caught, in every possible way an omega could be.

  Lost.

  Bonded.

  Owned.

  Nothing more than a vessel for his cum and his children.

  Not that she'd had any lofty dreams for herself beyond surviving from day to day, but still. At least she'd been free and independent.

  But no more.

  Garron was entirely unprepared for her to begin to weep again, only this time, it was much softer than it had been when he was reddening her rear, and somehow, that was worse—much worse.

  She abruptly ceased trying to resist him and became limp in his arms, the acute pleasure she felt evaporating in the light of the discomfort she was being subjected to.

  He didn't want to care that much about what she was feeling—he never had about any other woman he'd taken before.

  But she
was his omega, and he recognized that this was a different experience than merely taking a camp follower.

  Still, he wasn't really sure what to do. He'd always heard that the joining of their bodies would be ecstatic for the both of them. He'd never read or been told what to do when that wasn't the case.

  But he did like to bring women off, and he figured she wasn't all that different from a regular woman. So, he left one arm around her waist, continuing to rock himself within her, keeping that friction going, even the one that was probably hurting her at this point—where his barb was set into her swollen flesh at its most sensitive spot—reaching down between them to press the pad of his thumb over a clit that he was very relieved to realize was quite swollen, too.

  Despite how tightly they were locked together, she was still leaking her juices around where they were sealed, and it was an easy thing to get himself even slicker before beginning to swirl the pad of his thumb up and over her tiny pearl.

  Her breathing changed almost immediately, becoming more erratic and smothering the sounds of her despair, although they still resurfaced sometimes.

  Unfortunately, his body was so attuned to one particular goal that it couldn't be bothered to wait for her, and the ecstasy that washed over him as he began to spew his spunk all over her insides was so overwhelming and profound that he completely lost his mind for the entire long time that he spent emptying himself into her. He came so much that she was no longer leaking, herself, having felt her desires recede considerably. Instead, it was his essence that was dribbling out around his knot, until it had shrunk enough that he could slip out of her, and it sluiced down both of their legs as he would have sworn he heard a "pop" when he disconnected them, they were so closely interlocked.

  Garron tried to set her down on her feet in front of him, but her legs wouldn't hold her. He wasn't sure if that was a function of their position, or her own weakness, or that she was exhausted, or a combination of the three. But he didn't hesitate to scoop her into his arms and lay her down on his bed before turning away for a short moment—while keeping his eye on her to make sure she didn't get it into her little head to try to leave him again—to dampen a cloth in the leftover bathwater.

  When he washed himself quickly, he looked down to see that the cloth was bloody. If he needed more proof that she had been innocent, this was it. How she'd managed to live all this time and remain that way, he would never know, but he was certainly glad she had.

  He was of a mind to slip her into the bath—he would take great pleasure in bathing her, as if she was one of his prized horses.

  When he approached her, Olly didn't move. She lay on the bed in the exact same position in which he had put her, surprisingly not moving or protesting in the least as he manipulated her a bit in order to press the cloth to her privates, deciding that the bath could wait.

  Garron took the opportunity to look at her unobserved and unhurriedly. She was even thinner than he had thought and terribly delicate looking, which made him feel like a terrible brute for how he had taken her. There were dark shadows under her eyes, her skin so pale it was nearly as translucent as a newborn's.

  The sight of her, looking so puny, made him grimace. Well, at least she wouldn't have to scrimp and scrape, barely managing to get by any longer. He would see to it that she had the best food he could provide for her—better than his, even, since she would be carrying his children—well-made clothes, and a nice bed to sleep in with him, as long as she behaved herself. He acknowledged that he'd never consider withholding food from her, but the clothing and sleeping in his bed were optional, as far as he was concerned, based on her behavior.

  Tossing the cloth casually over his shoulder—as was completely against his usual tendencies—he wondered whether she was sleeping or just ignoring him.

  His genitals, which, minutes ago, he would have sworn were down for the count, were already beginning to stir at her nearness. Garron nudged her over, not too far from him, but enough so that he could get into bed. She didn't make the slightest move on her own, to or away from him. So, he curled an arm around her waist, pulling her back against him and settling her still very hot bottom up against his privates.

  She must've been asleep, because even that didn't draw any kind of reaction from her.

  He surprised himself by feeling the need to reach down and pull the covers up over her. He'd been alone in the world for a very long time, and once his father had died, he'd never much cared about what happened to anyone but himself.

  But she was already causing him to act differently from how he had before, and he knew he was going to have to guard against that. Throwing things on the floor was no more acceptable for him than it was for her, although no one was going to thrash him for doing so, unlike her.

  Pulling up the covers, though, that just seemed like the right thing to do as her Alpha. She was his in every conceivable way now, and that included taking care of her, making sure she was healthy and well behaved. He felt he could do all of that.

  But he wasn't going to let her change him fundamentally. No, he was always going to be himself, the way he was right now.

  If anyone was going to have to make accommodations, it was going to be her.

  Chapter 4

  Everything was going well.

  The word from his advanced scouts was that the town they were headed for—one of the best defended, best supplied, best run excuses for a city that currently existed in their world—was that they had, mostly, managed to maintain the element of surprise. Having them change course frequently helped.

  The last place that remained to be conquered was ruled by a man he had admired for a long time, someone he had fought beside until they had come to blows one evening over the morals—or rather, the lack thereof—of some of his associates.

  Of the two of them, Zerk had always held himself to higher standards. Garron had never felt that he could really afford to have them, thus he'd gotten himself entangled with some men who made him look like a saint. He'd definitely done some things that—if pressed—he wasn't proud of, but then again, he shook those feelings off as quickly as they rose within him as being utterly useless. Guilt was for losers.

  And beggars couldn't be choosers. He'd been both, and choosing was definitely preferable. He'd come out on top every time, so far, although this was going to be the biggest battle of his lifetime, against a group of people from various towns in the area who had banded together against him—and with Zerk—in order to defeat him.

  He knew every one of them, their history, successes and failures, strengths and weaknesses, and he knew that they—along with his rival's incredibly well trained men—were going to be a truly formidable force. It was a fight he looked forward to, like little else in his life. He had always had a "take no prisoners" attitude toward war, and he was loath to adjust that.

  But if any one of the men he knew were going to fight to the death against him managed to survive, he would be hard pressed to put them to death if they were willing to convert to his side.

  Of course, he didn't hold out much hope for any of that to actually happen, but he was surprised to find himself leaning toward that at all. But finding men who had more than just the interest but also the skills and actual proven ability to lead other men—other Alphas—was nothing to be thrown away lightly.

  He'd heard that Zerk had his own omega now, too—a woman who had, originally, been a part of his inner cadre of officers, if one could believe what was being bandied about in camp. He wasn't sure whether he thought that was the truth or not, not that he would put it past the other man. He was nothing if not unconventional.

  And so were the men who had flocked to his side, all of whom had omegas of their own, which was a rarity in and of itself. And some of those omegas had even participated in the battles themselves, or were instrumental in the care of the wounded.

  Rumors abounded, and he wasn't sure just how much stock he put into any of them. The only thing he could be sure of was that this was go
ing to be a truly epic battle.

  Even as they marched, he and his men both trained as if their lives depended on it—and they did.

  The only dark spot on the horizon as far as Garron was concerned was something that he was reluctant to label as such—Ollyah.

  He was at her constantly, desperately wanting to catch her as soon as possible, hoping that being pregnant would help her settle into her new role in life, and, if he admitted it to himself, which he refused to do, wanting to leave behind something of himself if the inevitable happened and he lost the war.

  Not that she wasn't settling. In fact, she was almost too accepting of her new position. After having had to discipline her twice that night, she had become a model omega—submissive, obedient and subservient. He hadn't had to punish her once since, and that felt wrong to him somehow.

  Not to mention the fact that he still felt he needed to watch his back around her, even though she'd given him no reason to think that whatsoever—even before he'd discovered her secret. But he definitely did. And, based on the alarming thing she'd confessed to him that first night about knowing that she would die if she made it out of his tent, he'd made damned good and sure that the weapons he'd had casually available around the room were locked away when he wasn't using them.

  And she was proving to be intelligent, too. In some ways, he wasn't sure whether that was a good thing. He rarely found that he had to tell her how to do something twice. She'd learned the names of and how to care for his armor flawlessly, and she seemed to be at least as organized as he was. Everything was always at the ready when he took a bath, and she seemed to be very respectful of his possessions. He didn't own a lot of things, but what little he did all had meaning to him, and he'd had to be quite strict with servants in the past who hadn't had anything of their own, so they hadn't put any value on his things, either.

  Ollyah didn't own anything, but he'd observed her taking great care with what was his.