Chapter 6

Anything, she would do anything to see her mother set free. Even the unspeakable thing her neighbor Hanna had accused her of moments before. Thick-tongued, she whispered, "Dianne."

The Alpha's attention may have been centered on her, the soldier turning her chin left to right as he looked her over, but his words were for her mother. "You are very lucky, old woman, that this one is exceptionally beautiful."

Desperate to reach her child, her mother fought the second soldier who still held her by the throat. "Leave her be. You can't have her!"

The wild effort produced no change in the situation. The male batted her mother's hands away as if swatting a fly and spoke to his comrade. "The girl is many years past the age she should have been collected. The Omega is most likely damaged."

"No." The back of the purring Alpha's fingers tripped down Dianne's neck, tracing the line of flesh exposed above the open bodice of her filthy dress. He pulled her dress aside until the pink tip of her nipple came into his sight. And then he touched her there, circling her flesh with the pad of his finger. "This one is perfect."

Toes curling, a strange croak caught in Dianne's throat. She lost sight of her mother's struggles in the corner. She forgot that she should have been pleading for mercy. She forgot her name.

When the Alpha groaned in approval and palmed the full weight of her breast, Dianne felt the world slip away. "I... I'm dying."

Those sad words moved her purring tormentor to reach out and catch her listing body before it hit the ground. In one sweep he hoisted her to his chest and purred all the louder. Voice unbelievably gentle, the stranger put his lips to her ear. "Come, Omega, I know what will make you feel better."

A lovely sensation of floating in cream… of safety and warmth, enveloped her body. Dianne was wrapped in velvet reassurance—the impression so rich, so perfectly contenting, that when lashes fluttered open, she was certain she had passed into the spirit world.

Or so she thought. Lingering soreness in her shoulder began to throb with the smallest movement. Next came awareness of the dry sting of abraded palms. And her knees, her knees were stiff with scabs, joints and muscles aching.

The dead were not supposed to know pain.

A soft whimper escaped parted lips.

Blinking twice, she found her eyes were unable to see even a hand before her face.

She had gone to the dark place of suffering instead.

Fear chased away the last remnants of her false sense of security.

Engulfed in stygian darkness, cocooned in something softer than rabbit fur, Dianne began to hyperventilate. It was more than her inability to see, it was the scent: spice, musk, salt, sweat... all decidedly male and not a single one familiar.

Alphas.

She was surrounded, locked in pitch black, and she had no idea which way to run.

The room seemed to answer the growing thump of her heart, and soft light emanated from an unknown source.