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"I'm not the ghost of your enemies," she answered slowly. "I am not an Alpha."

"Your heart's slow…" he mused, a moment of pause as he eased back. And she found her deduction of him to be true. He didn't mean a thing he said, had only wanted her cowering on the ground. "We did everything to make you girls afraid," his lips pursed into a thin line of displeasure. But his pupils grew, dilated slowly as if high. "Were you not a part of the crowd, or are you just a stupid little lamb?"

"I was," she answered. The tension sizzled in the air, grew in her lower belly. The fear was dissipating into a strange rise in tension."Saw the girls drink piss and your mates kill women like lives meant nothing."

Icarus's lashes fluttered, lids narrowed, a slow steady inhale, and his voice whispered out of him hazily. "All just vengeance, princess."

Her body shuddered at his words, at how close to the truth he was. "Or violence?"

"Necessary retribution," he answered, glare deepening. "Fear's a good method of control."

"So you're going to do that to me," she smiled, mind flashing with Euodia's memories. "Will you pump me full of drugs and break my mind? Turn me into a zombie that will listen to your beck and call? Whip me bloody until my soul fears your touch?" Her breath grew ragged then as she spat the words in his face. "You don't have to touch me to violate me. Tell me, is a hot burning poker in my future? Or knives and swords?"

Icarus's eyes fluttered, a rage boiling within him, but she knew those words brought the guilt out of him, knew the look of tenderness in his eyes. His lips pursed downwards. "What are you trying to do?" his teeth gritted together, fingers tight around her waist. "What games are you fucking playing?"

"Preparing myself," she answered. "For the inevitable." She found that with the fear, there was a strange carefree sing in her head. A need to lash her tongue out and fuck the consequences, a high that she rode. "You seem like you'd want to beat me just for my existence, have me cowering under your feet like all Omegas do."

"That's an Alpha practice," he hissed, "to beat their husbands black and blue while they feed their babies just because of a mood swing. I would never do that." Her smile was bitter at the irony. Gods, how odd that the Omegas seemed to think of themselves so highly, how odd that they couldn't see that they had become the people that they hated. The roles were reversed, and power hungry, they'd seized the ability to stand high above a women's broken body. And yet they still thought of themselves as victims. The words they harped to her again and again as if they weren't hurting others.

"Not anymore," she answered, meeting his gaze. "They'll beat those mated girls in the city just because their food's cold and the children scream."

Icarus paused. "So you think we'll hurt you? That we'd lie on the contract?"

"Perhaps," she answered. "Maybe death is in my future."

"Mm," his voice was softer now, features dripping, his hold on her gentle, almost soothing. Thumbs rubbing slow circles like a lover would, with his eyes on her face. And it was odd that his scent grew milky, as if trying to comfort her. A strange furrow on his face. His grip slackened. "Maybe you're right." His lips curled into a wry smile. "But why sign the contract then, little Beta? All this spitfire, and for what?"

Her lips twitched into a smile. A quiet beat passed. Then a softest whisper. "I don't want to die." He was quiet after a low, gentle sigh. And for a moment she felt a flutter in her chest, at the exasperated look in his eyes, almost as if he understood. He stepped back, something odd clouding his beautiful face.

"You have my word. For the year, you will be safe here," he answered.

Icarus had his hand over her, thumbs pressed to the beginnings of laces. His brow twitched, furrowed hard as digits hooked laces and pulled. Her breath hitched as his touch ghosted over exposed flesh, but he was twisting deftly, folding and threading. She exhaled as he pulled the lace taut, snagging her closer and she stepped to him, lips almost gracing his. He watched her, breathless, eyes eclipses of a silver moon.

"You might have to play a submissive bitch in public, but in our home? Be a good girl, and the most we'll ever do is bite you."

Her lips spread into a smile. The danger was gone. "You're my employer, so I'll listen."

"Master," 

She ignored his words. "Boss."

"Mmm," he pursed lips together inspecting his handiwork. "Better." He stepped back, stared at her body with meandering eyes. The lack of his flesh against hers was a rush of cold that had her almost gasping, and she found her heart fluttering in her chest strangely.

"Why the old dress?" she asked, a strange warmth pooling in her body. His scent had grown exquisite in the room, a richness flavoured with a fruity zest, a depth to it that reminded her of whisky. It expanded, sweeping over her as if attempting to ease the bitterness he'd left.

"Open-neck," he shrugged, ran fingers through hair. "The only female clothes we could find," the corner of his lip pinched. "But I don't like the way it looks on you. I'll find you something later. Don't want you walking around like a slut seducing my mates."

His words were rude, but they held no malice, a tease dancing across his lips. Quinn blinked, a bubble boiling in her throat. It wasn't his mates that he should be concerned off, not when his eyes trailed the length of her body. And behind his words held his kindness. She smiled and Icarus paused, eyes roaming her face for a moment. A silence as his breath hitched as if lost. Her smile faltered, and he spun on his heels.

"The others wait," he grouched, then snapped a veiny hand to her wrist, pulled her along towards the door, grip strong, muscles rippling. Quinn struggled with a snort.

"I can walk on my own—"

And then his fangs flashed, sinking into the crook of her wrist, tearing at flesh like butter. The pierce burned for a moment, a brief flash of pressure. Her cry was strangled from her lips as he pulled her into his arms, hands on her waist as he sucked in low lengthy growls with his eyes on hers. But then there was a numbness as he continued, blossoming into a warmth that trembled between her thighs, had her pussy fluttering, juices pooled sticky on her new panties.

He drank one thick mouthful, eyes voids of endless darkness that clung to hers, throat bobbing, sucking tenderly with his lips gentle upon her skin. He held her against him, and she felt his heart under her racing face and hard against her skin. The scent of milky sweet yuzu perfuming from his body turned her mind hazy. He groaned into her skin, body shivering, hips shuddering against her.

A moment was spent then lost in the hold of an Omega that was hot-cold crazy, and yet had her body dripping. He dislodged from her with a ragged pant, struggling and licking as he held her to him, tasting the wound until it clung and closed, the pink muscle tonguing the remains of her hurt. The touch of it had her quivering and his grip on her only tightened. He kissed her skin like he would kiss a lover, sweet and pressed little 'mwah's over healing flesh.

"You said," she exhaled, knees weak in his grasp. What the fuck? "You—"

"I said the most we'd do is bite you if you're a naughty girl," he answered with a cocked head and a flushed smirk. His voice was all honey and silk. "Sorry," he admitted gruffly, a vaguely feral look in his eyes. "You smelled fucking amazing. Did it hurt?" he asked, thumb now rubbing the sore spot on her wrist, still tasting her blood in his mouth. Her mouth opened, then closed, and she let out a slow exhale.

"No…"

"Come." He released her, but kept his grip on her hand, stepping out, a sudden storm of emotions ravaging his face. "The others wait."