A hard huff of breath left his lips as a realization came to him.
“Molaro. Find a wet nurse for her,” Otaso added a slow roll of his wrist, two fingers spinning in a lazy circle. “Something with this ridiculous hair they have. Something pleasing to the eye.”
“At once, Imperial Majesty,” Molaro murmured. The quiet rustle of his robes buried on the rattling clank as men fell in behind Molaro for his search.
Hours later in his tent, sated for the moment with the whimpering female who huddled before him as she gave the child her breast, Otaso pondered his predicament. Energy still raged in his veins, molten and painful. As much as he gloried in it, reveling in the intense rush, the more he watched the infant, the more he understood he would not be getting his hands on the chaotic tempest of her strength anytime soon.
Trouble was, he knew she would only grow in power as she aged. This violent storm would become a veritable force of nature. He could feel it down to the very marrow of his bones. It would also become more refined, a honed sword versus the smack of a fist. He could wield her with the same precision. More so if he let her mature to puberty. The time when all things find their true potential, an Omega promised exponential growth.
Eyes the soft velvet of night peered up at him as she fed, glimmers of blue-white pricking all that darkness. Full lips working, holding the tangle of golden locks in a vice like grip, she stared at Otaso as if to accuse. Blaming him for her plight of a low slave to sup on, the softness of her dam lacking as the woman continued to flinch and sob with fat tears.
“Quit your sniveling,” Otaso ordered with a placid smile that held the razor-sharp edge of a warning.
Confusion flittered over the female’s face, uncertainty followed fast by miserable resignation. She stank of it as she bowed her head and gained some control over her display.
“Do you know what they named the child?”
He waited for a span of moments, tolerating the woman’s trembling lip and quavering form for at least that long after what he’d forced her to endure. These people were soft, in mind and body. Fat on the excess of wealth the fertile valley provided, pampered by the false security of the mountains that ranged around them. They’d lived too long in the shadow of their king and his protection.
It was time they understood it had been no protection at all.
She’d bear the marks long after he tired of her, both body and mind. He was nowhere near finished with her even for this night, and it was a long road back to Aeslomor.
He had only so much patience, though. Hand snapping out, he caught the bitch’s chin. Jerking her forward by the grip on her jaw, upsetting the jostled infant whose suction ceased. As her angry wails began, the woman’s mewling cries joining, Otaso smiled.
“I asked you a question. You will answer now.”
“Strissina,” the woman breathed, too terrified to even whisper.
Otaso made a grunt of disgust, shoving her back. Sprawling in his chair, he eyed the child whose puckered frown admonished him for disturbing her dinner. To think a months old child would dare where full-grown men cowered.
She would dare, though. Some part of her must know the power she wielded even now. Knew of her importance and that she could brave much before he lost his temper.
“Hurry it up.” Fingertips measuring a slow rhythm against the intricate carvings of his chair, he watched. Waited as the girl’s eyes drifted. Lips pressed into a hard line each time they fluttered open to keep him in view as he shifted.
The longer he watched her, the more certain he became that she knew. Those midnight black eyes following his every movement, tracking him. Too aware for something so young. She wasn’t a simple child though, he reasoned. An Omega, and in a powerful Alpha’s presence. One of magnificent power even before tonight, the force of it raging just beneath his skin. Staring at one another, measuring the other, Otaso’s lips curled into something of a smile.
Something he hadn’t done in a very long time.
Releasing the wet nurse, the girl continued to watch. Finished with her meal, there was no excuse for her to remain awake. Yet she did, watching Otaso. Meeting his gaze as if she were equal, the inky length of her lashes wide against the tawny gold of her skin.
Pale amber eyes darting towards the bed, the woman held the girl closer. Urged her lips back, trying to get her to begin again.
“She’s finished.”
Tales said Omegas were immune to magic, that a force such as his couldn’t control them. Otaso thought to try it, but when he stood and took the girl with careful hands from the woman’s faltering grip, those dusky lashes began to slip shut. A contented gurgle bubbling up from her lips as she caught the edge of his robe in one fist. He shouldn’t show her such reverence as he held her against his chest. Shouldn’t let on that he had thoughts not involving her death, even in front of the slave.
Too important to be part of the long train that followed him, they had placed a rough cradle in his tent. A convenience considering he would slake his needs on the wet nurse for now, until she became too broken to withstand it. He had to have a care with that one for now, at least until they could find another, but you could do much to a
