Born

Allora held still as Mel removed her armor, staring down at the small hot spring, wishing she could linger within, enjoy the wet heat. She would not think of what she’d allowed Cormack to do to her, would not think about how he was most likely doing the same even now to a Bred woman out in the barracks, his strong hands gripping an experienced woman’s thighs, holding her open to his ministrations. Or worse, rutting within her until both shouted from relief. Relief Allora had seen countless times while patrolling the barracks, but had not experienced for herself. I have bigger problems than irrational jealousy right now.

She touched Mel’s arm and lowered her voice to a confidential whisper. “Go to the kitchen and tell the cook I need a hot dinner. While she is preparing it, steal as many nutri packets as your apron pockets can hold.”

The girl shook her blond head and stammered,

“I’ll…they’ll catch me and I’ll be flogged.” She cleared her throat, obviously retrenching back into her normal bawdy self. “Under the right circumstances I might enjoy having my backside tanned, but not over a few packets.”

“I wouldn’t ask this of you if there was another way. But there isn’t, because tomorrow the overlord will announce my betrothal.”

Mel’s face lit up with understanding. “You fear unification? Or is it the wedding night that has you so stirred up? I told you to take a Bred lover to do the dirty work of capturing your maidenhead. It’s what we are made for.”

Allora grit her teeth. “This is not about rutting, it’s about my life.”

Mel tsked softly. “You would shirk your duties because you fear some man’s cock? Don’t let him hear, for you will never be able to deflate that ego, no matter the state of his equipment.”

She groaned and sank back onto her pallet.

Though she was a full decade older than the Bred, Mel had done things that Born woman four times her age couldn’t imagine. In the girl’s experience everything boiled down to sex, and claiming otherwise was futile.

“They will strip me of my position. Born women married to overlords cannot be task mistresses.”

Mel cast a sly smile at her as she laid out a fresh shift. “Don’t throw out the boots and whip just yet—you still might have hours of fun with them.”

Defeated, Allora shuffled to the side of the pool.

Casting her dirty shift to the floor, she shivered, cold air raising goosebumps on her skin. “Please, go fetch me a dinner tray.” She would just have to figure out another way to acquire what she needed.

Mel touched her arm, a small gesture that would see her whipped if the overlord ever saw it. “"Twill be all right, milady. It only hurts for a moment and then, never again. And you will have a child from the ordeal.

Think of how wonderful to cradle a babe to your breast.” The Bred’s gaze glossed over.

Allora didn’t know what to say. Voicing that she had no use for a child would only hurt the girl’s feelings. Breds could not reproduce—another safeguard to control their population with an iron fist.

Some of the nursemaids Allora had endured didn’t acknowledge the loss, but Mel spent all of her free time in the Bred nursery, where the new hatchlings were kept for the first year of life.

Luckily, Mel snapped herself out of the trance and hurried off. Allora sagged, the weight of the day pressing her flat. Sinking down until the water covered her shoulders; she closed her eyes and tried to force her mind to come up with a plan. Eventually she could get the packets, but where would she go?

This community, these people, were the only family she’d ever known. Didn’t she owe it to them to consider doing as the overlord demanded?

Though she heard no footsteps, she sensed a presence behind her. “Back already, Mel?”

“No, my Task Mistress.”

Her eyes flew open and she jolted up out of the water. “Cormack? What are you doing here?”

His blue-eyed gaze burned into her, locked on her face. The bottom of the pool was shallow but even still, he towered over her, her head aligned with his groin. She couldn’t help but notice the giant bulge there. “I wanted to see you.”

The steam from the spring rose up, swathing him in an ethereal halo, as if the rest of the world faded away while he looked at her. His gaze slid downward.

Her heart thumped inside her chest. She could feel the intensity of his stare and it made her burn.

“So this is why the Borns are always so clean. I often wondered how you could stand washing in buckets of cold water so often.”

His snide remark bristled, and mustering her dignity Allora marched toward him, water still sluicing down her body. “Do you wish to file a formal complaint? Because as your task mistress I would take it into consideration before having you executed for taking such liberties. These are my private chambers.”

A small smile curved his lips. “I’ve already invaded more private places on you, this seems tame in comparison.”