Breeder Page 16

  “Easy there. Why do you run so?” came a familiar voice.

  She looked up into the compassionate, concerned face of Veya, Tarbek’s beta. Relief weakened her knees. A male of status, he could vouch for her. “Please, I must hurry. A man who wishes to hurt me is chasing me.”

  Veya’s gaze radiated kindness and sympathy but no urgency.

  “I must go. I must get home,” she said.

  “It is all right, Omra. You are safe.” His voice soothed. “You’re with me, and you are safe.” He continued to hold her in a secure grip. “Who is this male who would dare move against Alpha’s breeder?”

  Omra’s chest heaved as she strove to catch her breath. “He is the former director of the containment center where I was held. He did not want Alpha to purchase me.”

  The conversation was eating precious seconds. She peered over her shoulder. No sign of Sival. Yet. She squirmed, but Veya’s hold was as strong as telenium.

  “I will conceal you until he leaves. Afterward I will escort you home.”

  “Can you not take me now?”

  He shook his head. “We should not risk encountering the male you fear. Should he convince a powerful alpha of his claim on you, my word would not protect you.”

  Omra remembered the alphas who’d tried to detain her. Veya was right. “The Terran bazaar,” she said. “I can hide there.”

  “Not a good place. You will stand out among those aliens.”

  She recalled their strange dress, Tara’s pink hair, how few breeders had been at the bazaar. He was right. Her plan had been a poor one. “Where else can I go?”

  “I have something in mind. Come with me.” He released her shoulders but gripped one arm. He led her down the corridor, ambling as if he had nothing more of import on his mind than taking a stroll.

  “Please, can we hurry?” she cried.

  “We must blend, Omra. Avoid calling attention to ourselves. How many other breeders do you see racing through the Market? Everyone who sees a running female will remember. They will question why you flee.”

  How much wiser he was than she. It had happened exactly like that. And he was a beta, not even an alpha. No wonder males ruled Parseon. Her mental capacity could not compare to his cunning.

  But did he have to creep so slowly? She scanned the crowd. Other people moved at a faster pace. Surely if they sped up a little, they would not attract notice. She had begun to question whether she’d been wise to trust Veya when he rounded the corner to the row where she and Dak had achieved release together, where he’d spanked her for calling out his name. Hitched to two beasts was a conveyance, its driver absent.

  Veya strode to it and flicked back a loose tarp covering the wagon. “You will be safe here.”

  Omra peered up and down the row. “What if the driver returns?”

  “I saw him leave,” Veya said. “He has gone for supplies. He will not return with any haste.”

  She still wasn’t convinced. “What if the director comes and looks under the tarp?” She would be a sitting waterfowl.

  “I will stand watch. If he arrives, I will tell him this is my conveyance, I am awaiting the delivery of supplies, and I saw you run that way.” He pointed in the opposite direction. “I will offer to help him search for you, but I will lead him astray.” Veya brushed his sleeve as if it were dusty. “You can come out, and I will take you home.”

  “Oh, thank you! That is a good plan.” Omra scrambled into the wagon, and Veya flicked the tarp back into place. She crouched, keeping still to avoid making any noise, and listened as his footsteps faded away. Had he left? Wasn’t he going to stand watch?

  But then she detected a murmur. His voice or someone else’s? It was too far away to tell. Had Sival tracked her down already? She held her breath. Then footfalls neared the conveyance. Veya’s. She recognized his tromping step, and a click that reminded her of a PCD being snapped shut. Had Veya called someone on his personal communication device?

  Omra pressed a finger under her nostrils to prevent a sneeze. The wagon reeked of animal excrement, and dust tickled her nose. Once a sneeze had changed her life for the better, but she doubted the outcome would be as favorable this time. Under the tarp, she cupped an ear. For the longest time she could hear only the beasts snorting and Veya pacing.

  “I search for a female!” Sival’s voice rang out distinct and sharp, and she jumped. Her heart pounded. Would the director check inside the wagon? Would Veya keep his promise or betray her?

  Just because he had looked upon her with sympathy and compassion the evening of the Alpha dinner didn’t mean she could trust him. What did she know of him anyway? His hold as he had ushered her through the Market had been gentle but implacable. Had he led her to safety or into the hands of danger? She pressed a palm to her chest. Please. Please. Please.

  Why hadn’t Veya located one of Alpha’s guards? They would have protected her. She wished she’d thought to search for one herself. Had she made the wrong choice by trusting Tarbek’s beta?

  “What does the female look like?” Veya asked as if he’d never seen her before. He sounded convincing. Her doubts receded but not her fear. Sival could still rip back the tarp.

  “Black hair. Very pale skin. She probably smells like manure,” Sival answered, and Omra realized she emitted the awful odor. When he’d thrown the shovel, he had splashed her with its contents.

  “I do remember seeing her. She ran through here like a herd of beasts was chasing her.” Veya’s response was followed by a shuffling and a rubbing against the wagon. The conveyance rocked.

  What was happening out there? She trembled in fear.

  “Which way did she go?” Sival demanded, his voice seeming closer now.

  “Let me show you.” Another bump against the cart, this time on the opposite side. More rubbing. “I followed her for a bit. Curiosity got the better of me, I’m afraid.” Veya sounded sheepish.

  “I’m very glad it did. I would be obliged for your assistance, thank you.”

  Two sets of footfalls stomped away from the conveyance. When the sound faded completely, Omra expelled a shaky breath of relief. Veya had protected her. But how long should she remain hidden? How far afield would Tarbek’s beta lead Sival? She wanted to be certain the director was out of sight before she emerged. Veya had said he would escort her home, but perhaps she would be more prudent to leave as soon as she could, rather than wait.

  She would count to one hundred and then make a break for it. Fighting residual panic, which screamed for her to flee, she forced herself to pause between each count. But by ninety-four, she could stand to wait no longer and lifted her arms to raise the tarp.

  Thud. Squeak. Squeak.

  She froze at the scuffling. A man coughed. Her heart rate shot into the troposphere. Had Sival doubled back? She pressed her fists to her chest.

  The conveyance swayed. The bridled beasts snorted. “Ayaa!” An unfamiliar voice barked. The wagon jerked. They were moving! She had to get off. Omra threw up her hands to fling back the covering. It wouldn’t budge. She tugged and pushed, but the tarp held fast.

  Let me out! Panic rose in her throat, but she stifled it. Sival might be out of sight but perhaps not out of hearing. She remembered Veya’s calm demeanor. She would learn from him and bide her time until she could be sure they’d cleared the Market. Then she would shout to get the driver’s attention. She could travel by conveyance faster than she could by foot anyway. She still might get home before Dak arrived.

  CORREN STEPPED OUT of a vacant stall, planted himself in the middle of the aisle, and watched Enyi drive away with the breeder. I am alpha. Triumph swelled.

  His two partners joined him as the conveyance vanished from sight. “Your contacts are readied at the interplanetary terminal?” he confirmed with Sival and grimaced. The beta reeked of excrement.

  “I contacted them moments ago,” the former BCF director said. “As soon as the breeder arrives, the sale will be processed, and she will be transported to serve th
e Veronian emperor. I was beginning to think we would never get her.”

  Typical. Betas lacked strategic vision, the confidence required for leadership. Corren, on the other hand, had not wavered from certainty. That was why he had taken control of the operation to capture Omra.

  “Either Alpha or one of his guards was with her all the time,” Veya said. “The Commander is cautious. I wonder why she was alone today.”

  “Because he has become weak, unable to manage even a breeder,” Corren said. “She makes him so.” He suspected the female had factored into Dak’s sympathies toward the Enclave. Evidence suggested the Alpha of the fifth province of Parseon hid a secret, deviant nature.

  Dak disgusted him. In a way, it had been fortunate the Commander had transferred his physical attention to the breeder instead of him, but that also had led to Corren’s abasement in front of the other Alphas and to the reduction of his status when Dak had their anointment annulled. For that the breeder would pay.

  “There are many females available. I am not convinced this is the best course of action,” Veya said. “I fear her disappearance may strengthen Commander Dak by arousing his vengeance. He has already hampered the plans of my Alpha. Commander Tarbek will not be pleased with further impediments.”

  “That is how you and I differ.” Corren stifled a sneer. “I fear nothing.” He glanced at the two men. They were classic betas, destined to serve rather than lead. “It is insufficient to merely conquer one’s enemy. One must ensure his foe feel his loss with every breath.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Dak vented his emotion on an android pugilist at the Physical Conditioning Facility near his command center. Designed with the strength of three men, the AP 3010 was the stoutest sparring bot ever built, but Dak broke two of them before he called it quits. Destroying PCF property could not eliminate his rage and despair. He had no good options. A bleak future stretched before him. He could not imagine ever smiling or laughing again without Omra. But he would do anything to keep her alive. Even disown her.

  She would view his actions as censure, disapproval, when nothing could be further from the truth.

  He paid for the destruction of the bots, added a generous tip, and exited the PCF. The sun shone, and everything sparkled after the cleansing of a heavy overnight rainfall, but he saw only darkness on the horizon.

  He could not delay any longer.

  Via the sky tram, the trip to the BCF would be over in minutes. Quick. Easy. But a light-year from painless. He had rejected transport via conveyance for the memories it would evoke of their companionable ride when he’d brought her home from the BCF.

  After cutting through the glen, he emerged on the lane that led to his domicile. At first he attributed his unease to his aversion to his task. But the foreboding worsened when his abode appeared around the bend, so cold and…empty. Though he told himself his imagination had conjured his apprehension, he picked up the pace.

  “Omra?” he called as he entered.

  Silence.

  “Omra!”

  No answer.

  Dread curled into panic. “OMRA! Come here, now!”

  Shouting her name, he ran through the domicile. He checked the food preparation room, the dining and sitting halls, the library, their sleeping chamber, the guest quarters. Empty, every room. He doubled back and searched again.

  Through the wide windows, he scanned the perimeter of his compound. The land stretched vacant and deserted, except for the outbuilding. The stables! Of course. Omra had grown attached to animals and often wandered out there to sneak them treats they weren’t supposed to have. That was where she must be.

  Please be there. He charged for the stables. A beta grooming a beast jumped when he barged in.

  “Where is Omra?” he demanded.

  “I have not seen her, Commander,” the stable hand replied.

  “Not at all today?”

  “No, Commander.”

  “Has anyone visited today?”

  “Not that I’ve noticed, Alpha.”

  Dak strode through the stable, peering into each stall. He approached the one where Omra had intended to sleep after Corren had exiled her. He stared into the empty pen, picturing her standing there as she’d looked that night. The evening of their first mating. “It was not unpleasant.” Her words of reassurance had changed everything.

  He spun around. “If you see her, contact me immediately,” he ordered, though he was certain at this point Omra would not turn up at the stable.

  “Certainly, Commander.”

  Dak headed back to the domicile. Omra’s bodyguard, patrolling the environs, appeared around the corner. “Where is Omra?” Dak demanded.

  Kumar blinked. “She is not inside, Commander?”

  Dak would have flogged the man for dereliction of duty except that he deserved it more. He was responsible for keeping Omra safe, and he had failed. “Who has been here today?”

  “No one, Commander.”

  “Deploy a full guard detail, now! Locate Omra. Search everywhere.”

  Talons of fear clawed at him. This was his fault. Because he couldn’t face her, he had left her alone. If only this had been a normal Saturday, and they’d gone to the Market—

  His blood froze in his arteries. Surely she would not have ventured there alone. He knew she had been disappointed, but she would not have disobeyed his wishes.

  Would she?

  He prayed she had been disobedient, because the other option—that she’d been taken hostage— was much worse.

  “Dispatch a unit to search the Market and the Terran bazaar,” he ordered.

  Dak entered the domicile to search once more. Perhaps she’d returned while he was in the stables. “OMRA!” he bellowed. Her name echoed.

  SHE’D SCREAMED HER throat raw to no avail.

  The heaviness of the tarp, the racket of the beasts’ hooves clopping on the road, the jangle of their bridles, drowned her pleas for help. She’d beaten her fists against the tarp but hadn’t budged it.

  Trapped in the bed of the conveyance, she bounced around the rough-hewn interior. When the conveyance had left the village and entered the countryside, the jostling had worsened, and she had been tossed about the wagon. The sun heated the stale air under the tarp, causing sleepiness to descend, but every time she’d nod off, the conveyance would hit a pothole and jolt her awake. Her bruised body, sticky with perspiration, ached.

  After what seemed like hours on the road, the conveyance ascended a steep hill, and she slid half the length of the bed to slam into the back wall. Splinters embedded in her flesh. As the grade steepened, she remained in a huddled heap, half on the wooden side and half on the tarp covering the top.

  How far from home would she end up before the driver stopped and discovered her presence?

  The road leveled out, and she hit the floorboards.

  A sob of pain and frustration rose in her throat.

  And then a breeze whispered across her face. Her gaze flew to a spot of light seeping through a gap in the tarp. The pressure of her body had stretched the heavy cloth. Hope galvanized her into action, and she rolled to her knees. Wiggling her hand, she forced her wrist through the tight aperture. Her fingers found a tie-down.

  She dug her nails into the knotted hemp and clawed. Her fingers, slickened by perspiration, couldn’t get a solid grip. Her shoulder twisted at a painful angle, and she had to stop several times to flex aching muscles, but she persisted. The roughness of the hemp abraded her fingers, and they bled. The knot held fast.

  She had dissolved into tears of frustration when she felt a give. With renewed determination, she manipulated the hemp. Once she freed one small loop, the knot loosened, and she was able to untie it. With one fastener undone, the gap in the tarp increased. With more space, she had more flexibility, and she set to work on the second tie-down. It too was very tight, and her bloodied fingers hurt, but her success with the first knot energized her. The second fastening came undone in half the time. With an open
ing not quite wide enough to squeeze her head through, she launched into the third knot, her mind working as fast as her fingers.

  She’d assumed getting trapped in the conveyance had been an accident. The beasts’ hooves created quite a din, but were they louder than her screams? Why had the driver not heard her cries for help? And if the bed was empty, why secure the tarp so tightly? Since they were leaving the Market, shouldn’t the conveyance have been loaded with supplies?

  The beasts had been bridled, the transport readied for departure as if it had awaited a passenger. Had she been lured into a trap? Veya had materialized at the right moment to “save” her. He had vetoed her plan to seek refuge at the Terran bazaar and instead urged her into the conveyance. If not for him, she would not be in her position.

  She recalled too the murmur of voices, her feeling he had contacted someone via his PCD.

  But he’d lured the director away. She’d listened to the conversation. Heard them leave. While Sival had a reason for his animosity, Tarbek’s beta had no motive to kidnap her. He’d met her only once. His manner then and now had radiated compassion, not animus.

  Except for the viselike hold on her arm. And betas were infamous for employing subterfuge. Lacking overt power, they exercised influence in subtle, sneaky ways.

  Who was driving the conveyance, she wondered.

  Silently she cheered when the third knot came loose. She could wiggle through the space if she tried, but she didn’t want to risk getting stuck and being dragged behind the conveyance—or alerting the driver. When she escaped, she wanted a clean, quick break.

  Close to freedom, she fumbled with a fourth knot, whimpering with frustration when it resisted her efforts. Her nails were broken, and the hemp was stained with her blood. At last, she got the fastening loose.

  She was grateful for the noise of the hooves as she wiggled through the opening. A slow mode of travel, the conveyance now seemed to be moving at a great rate of speed as she stared at the ground. Fear rising like bile in her throat, she twisted to see who drove the transport.

  Not Sival or Veya as she’d half expected. She could only see the man’s back, but she didn’t recognize him. But that didn’t deem the stranger trustworthy. Dak had emphasized caution. Why hadn’t she obeyed what she knew to be his wishes and stayed at the domicile? By now he would know she had left, and he would be so very angry with her. He would punish her, but Omra did not care. She would kiss the sudon if she could arrive home safely.