Rescued from one hell only to be thrown into another—fate was a fickle bitch, and right now she was laughing in Celeste's face.
What sort of life awaited her in a harem? Sitting around with dozens of bored, beautiful women, all waiting for the Emperor's call? Did one man really have the stamina for that? He had bought a dozen just today, on top of however many already warmed his bed. Overcompensation, maybe. The thought made her snort.
"What's so amusing, little firefly?" The man's voice rumbled behind her.
Celeste shrugged. "Just wondering why someone would need so many women. Is your harem not big enough? Or—" she tilted her head up, meeting his eyes over her shoulder—"do you have trouble keeping it up, so you cycle through them, hoping one will manage to hold your interest?"
Silence stretched. She braced for a blow.
Then he laughed—loud, deep, a sound that shook her to her bones. "I can assure you, my cock has no trouble rising to the occasion. I could demonstrate if you wish."
Before she could retort, he pressed her back against his chest. Hard flesh strained against her, hot through the fabric of his trousers. "Is that hard enough for you?"
Heat rushed up her throat. Her cheeks burned, but she said nothing, blessedly distracted by the massive stone wall looming ahead.
Doom settled like a weight in her stomach. A drawbridge spanned a wide moat, chains screeching as it lowered at Thane's signal. Guards lined the walls, their gazes sharp. Escape? Impossible.
"As if you'd get far," he murmured, reading her without effort. "Even if you ran, I would find you. You are mine now."
Shit. "Can you hear my thoughts?" she snapped.
"I don't need to. You were sold. Of course you're plotting escape." His tone softened, almost coaxing. "But once you settle in, you may find this place better than wherever you came from."
"Do not assume to know anything about me," Celeste bit out, folding her arms.
"Fair enough."
They rode into the courtyard. Celeste's humiliation spiked anew—she was still stark naked, and a dozen guards' eyes followed her every step. She bit her lip, torn between begging for something to cover herself and refusing to give him the satisfaction.
Before she decided, he swung down from his beast and reached for her. Strong hands caught her waist, setting her on the ground. Then, without hesitation, he stripped off his own shirt and tugged it over her head.
Celeste froze, stunned. The soft fabric fell to her thighs, giving her back some semblance of modesty. His scent clung to it—rich and spicy, heady in a way that made her dizzy. She resisted the wild urge to press the cloth to her face and breathe him in.
When she looked up, his green eyes gleamed with knowing amusement.
"Stop that," she snapped.
His grin widened, flashing white teeth. "I didn't say anything."
"You didn't have to."
What was wrong with him? He didn't act like any Emperor she had imagined—no icy command, no cruel barked orders. He laughed too easily, wore his power like a second skin. It was unsettling.
"Thane Conrad Rysling, what have you done?"
The sharp voice carried across the courtyard. A woman descended the steps with regal grace, dark hair streaked with silver, robes flowing like water. Her eyes widened when they landed on Celeste, then flicked to Thane with disbelief.
Thane's hand pressed to the small of Celeste's back, steady but possessive. "Mother, this is Celeste. She is an Omega."
That word again. Omega. Everyone seemed obsessed with it, though to Celeste it meant nothing but trouble. She was Beta-born—her parents had been Betas, and so she assumed she was too. This Omega nonsense had brought her nothing but pain. What was she supposed to do—sprout wings? Shoot lightning? Fly away? That would at least be useful.
"Are you certain?" the woman asked, skepticism sharp as a blade. "Omegas are nearly extinct. We haven't seen one in decades."
"She has been tested," Thane replied evenly. "Her virginity as well. I trust you will see she is treated with the dignity she deserves."
Celeste blinked. Dignity? Respect? Was he joking? What dignity existed for a whore in a gilded cage?
The woman studied her, then smiled faintly. "Yes, of course. Come, my dear. Let us find you a bath and something more fitting to wear."
"My name is Natira," she added, her voice softening. "Mother Empress."
Natira. Thane's mother. Celeste bit her lip, caught between relief and wariness.
Her gaze darted to Thane. He only smirked, eyes glittering with that same insufferable amusement. With a lazy wave, he dismissed her like a servant.
Celeste's teeth clenched. In her mind's eye, she sent him a vivid image of her middle finger raised proudly in his face. If he truly could read her thoughts, she hoped that one landed.
Drawing a steadying breath, she followed the Empress up the palace steps, wondering grimly what new fate awaited her inside.