Compulsion: A Myth of Omega Standalone Page 2

  Roclan stood, a rush of adrenaline bounding through him. This was the chance he wanted, and he would rather die than fail. Dorei was already his as far as he was concerned. “I will leave immediately.”

  Roclan’s subtle disdain for Dorei evaporated upon his arrival.

  The territory may be the smallest in the empire, but it was one of the prettiest, housing a quaint village and a bustling town as well as beautiful sandy shores for miles. It acted as a conduit of trading between a number of territories and its central location made it vibrant.

  Roclan alighted from his carriage to see Lox warriors based in the territory gathered to greet him. He nodded at them all, enjoying the attention. Usually, he was in their position—standing among his Lox brothers greeting a superior’s arrival.

  One of the Lox guards stepped forward. “Acting General Roclan?”

  Roclan stifled a grin as he nodded. Commander Torin must have sent that title ahead, and Roclan was grateful for that. Perhaps the Commander was trying to give him motivation to succeed—it was working.

  “Thank you for attending so quickly,” the guard said. “I hoped someone would arrive soon.”

  “Where is the prisoner?” Roclan asked.

  The guard beckoned. “This way.”

  As Roclan entered the base, the slight cooling tingle of magic in the air reminded him the building was equipped with magical charms to prevent the use of magic on Lox grounds. This wasn’t unusual. The general’s base in each territory, as well as Lox Palace, was protected with the charms, and they protected the Lox from those who would do harm. At least in Dorei, it also provided small relief from the heat.

  The guard led him through the base to where prisoner cells were located, most of which were empty. “We rarely get such… dangerous prisoners here, General, so there are only six guards on duty at any time. Guards are better served at the borders and ports of Dorei. So if you require more you’ll need to request—”

  “We won’t need more staff.” This case would be completed by the time new guards arrived.

  They slowed to a stop in front of the only closed cell door. “If you intend to interrogate her today, I can set up a room—”

  “I will come and find you when I’m ready,” Roclan said. “Tell me about the prisoner.”

  “She worked as a healer across the southwest territories for about two years.”

  “A healer?” Not a typical murder suspect. “What made her kill the general?”

  The guard shrugged, as he handed Roclan the key. “She confessed to the killing but says nothing more. Once you are ready, I can show you to the old general’s office.”

  Roclan thanked and dismissed him, then unlocked the cell door.

  When he stepped inside, he locked the door behind him and turned to survey the cell. Darkness swamped the room. Charcoal-grey stone walls made the space seem smaller than it was, and the one small, rectangular window set high on the wall was covered. Dim shards of light barely managed to pierce through the edges of the windowpane and struggled to maintain its strength, giving the cell a gloomy overtone. By the door was an empty parchment plate, and on one side was an opening that led to a decent-sized wash area. It wasn’t as grimy or as small as Roclan expected it to be, but he hadn’t been to any other general bases to compare. If these rooms had barely been used, it was expected they would be in better condition than most. Beneath the slightly musky smell of the cell was the hint of something delicate… that had to be the prisoner.

  She sat in a tight bundle on the floor in the far right corner on top of thin bedding, her back against the wall and her knees drawn up tight against her body with her ankles crossed. Her bound wrists were attached to a chain long enough to let her move around the cell, but the other end was secured to the right wall.

  Roclan stepped forward, peering at her. A mass of hair sprung in all directions around her head, but her head was half-lowered to her knees. In the darkness of the cell, it was difficult to make out her face, but Roclan could tell she was watching him.

  “I am Roclan,” he said. “I’m here from Lox Palace.”

  The prisoner said nothing.

  “I will be dealing with your case.”

  She lifted her head slightly, and Roclan took another step forward. “You will be brought to an interrogation room this afternoon. You only need to answer my questions truthfully, nothing more. Lies will not serve you well.”

  There was still no answer, although she moved her hands a little, and the chain scratched against the floor.

  Annoyance began to creep into him at her lack of response. “If you don’t speak, I will be unable to ensure you get a fair hearing.”

  A rich chuckle filled the room. “A fair hearing for the murderer of a Lox general? Do not pretend the Lox offers such a thing.”

  Roclan stilled, something coarse quickening within him. Her voice was feminine but strong and measured with a slight northern drawl, and her mocking tone sent a pleasurable prickle along his arms.

  “You are more likely to offer a quick execution,” she added. “Isn’t that what the Lox is known for?”

  Her voice resonated through the air and burrowed deep within Roclan—awakening an instinctual impulse causing a growl to rise in his throat before he even recognized what was happening. “Who are you?”

  “I am your prisoner.” The beauty of her voice made those words seem like a filthy promise, and unbelievably, Roclan’s cock stirred. “Who are you?” she asked.

  “I already told you.”

  “You told me your name.” She shrugged. “That doesn’t tell me anything. Why did the palace send you?”

  Roclan almost snarled at her blatant disrespect. “I am the one who will ask the questions.”

  “If you are another general for me to kill, then I—”

  Instinctively, Roclan growled, cutting her off. Her head shot up, and in the dimness of the cell, her eyes shone as they locked onto him.

  “You will not speak in such a manner,” he thundered. “You will address me as General and only speak when you are spoken to!”

  “I will be executed before sundown tomorrow,” she snapped back. “So I will speak as I choose during my last hours of life.”

  “No execution has been arranged yet. Not until I have carried out an investigation.”

  She chuckled again, and this time it stirred all manner of filthy thoughts in Roclan’s mind. “You have a corpse, and you have the culprit. There’s no further investigation to be done.” She paused. “Unless you need to prove yourself to your superiors?” Her head tilted and snorted. “I’m afraid this case isn’t much to grow your career on, baby General. I’ve already admitted I did it.”

  “Quiet!” Roclan roared, infuriated that anyone could use the word “baby” to refer to anything about him. He tensed every muscle in his body, resisting the urge to storm over to her. Of the two of them, she was the tiny one, and she was imprisoned, but she behaved as though she had power in this situation. Strangely, her taunts sparked both arousal and annoyance in him, but he forced both emotions down. “Your outrageous lack of respect has been noted,” he said sharply.

  The female shook her head, her shoulders also shaking as though she laughed quietly. “You are an Alpha.”

  Roclan snarled. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

  She leaned forward a little. “You prefer respect instead of truth.”

  “The existence of one does not cancel out the other. Are you saying you are only capable of one at a time?”

  From the short pause before she answered, Roclan suspected she was surprised by his response. “Some people don’t deserve both,” she said tightly.

  “Criminals do not get to determine that. You will be respectful, and you will speak truthfully. Is that clear?”

  The woman’s head ducked back down to knees as she mumbled, “If it weren’t, would you care?”

  Roclan growled, but turned to unlock the door. “You will be summoned shortly,” he said to her. �
��You will have plenty of time to talk then, truth or not.”

  “I won’t say more about the death than I’ve already said,” she said sharply. “I refused to be questioned multiple times.”

  Roclan paused before turning back to her slowly, unable to help the deep and growly tone his voice embraced. “I believe you have been too well-treated here in Dorei, little captive.”

  At that, the prisoner fell silent.

  “In Lox prisons in Ashens, the conditions aren’t so pleasant, the guards aren’t so mild-mannered, and interrogations are not kind. Here, you have the luxury of being solitary, but there, prisoners find ways to sneak into the cells of others at night.”

  She was silent for a long moment. “I guess… I’m lucky I am here, then,” she replied, though the confidence had fallen from her voice.

  “Yes,” he growled back. “But you’re not lucky I am here.”

  Roclan slammed the door behind him, seething with frustration as he made his way back through the corridor. He had to follow strict protocols on this case, but if he had some leeway, he would be in there bending her over and fucking her until— He abruptly halted in the middle of the corridor. No. That’s not what he wanted to do at all. Suddenly, he noticed his cock was raging hard, straining against his pants for release.

  Growling in annoyance, he tucked it away as best he could and headed back to the entrance of the base. Something about that exchange had aroused him, but he couldn’t understand what. It couldn’t be the female—he hadn’t even seen her face properly. Yet the thought of her disobedient mouth closed around his cock flared a burst of arousal that shocked him, as did the acute desire to turn around and head back into her cell.

  “I want all information about her,” he demanded when he reached the guard. “And all information about the crime.”

  The guard nodded. “Follow me.” This time he led Roclan to the general’s office in the center of the base. Large and richly furnished, it was impressive, considering the base itself was relatively small.

  “This is where the crime took place,” the guard said, pointing to one side of the desk.

  Roclan stared at him. “Here? In his office?”

  The guard nodded. “It’s been cleaned up now, but he was found right there. I’ve left all relevant files on your desk.”

  “Good.” Roclan sat at the desk and began thumbing through the files. “Base operations are to run as normal, and no food is to go to the prisoner.” He glanced up, his face stern. “No one is to speak to or engage with her at all from now on.”

  Chapter Two

  ROCLAN

  Roclan intended not to interrogate her for at least three hours.

  Unfortunately, his mind kept returning to their exchange, and an urge to go back and reprimand her scratched at him every moment. It didn’t make sense to be so annoyed with her attitude, particularly when it was laced with arousal, yet he was.

  He tried busying himself reading the information about her case. It seemed pretty simple on the surface, but there were missing details.

  Her name was Nyan—an unusual name for the southern territories—and she was known to be a healer who traveled between the small cluster of territories in the southwest of the empire; Dorei, Jynora, and the Islands of Ashens, offering healing remedies, medicines, and tinctures to citizens. She wasn’t a medic, so she hadn’t been approved by the Lox to treat citizens, but she had gained a reputation because of the success of her treatments.

  From the files, the general had summoned her to the base, but there were no details as to why. She had been found sitting by the body with the shard of glass. The general had died from a deep cut to his throat, and she was arrested straight away. She’d confessed to the murder, and it was expected that the execution would be carried out within the next few days.

  Roclan wasn’t satisfied. Why would a general summon a healer who was not approved by the Lox? According to the guards, she didn’t usually conduct business at the base. Maybe the general wanted to tax her? Maybe he had an ailment he wanted her to treat. Either way, Roclan needed to know what the previous general’s relationship had been with this woman, especially since she’d killed him.

  After now seeing how small she was, he had to wonder how she’d committed such a close-range crime on the Alpha general. Maybe they’d known each other intimately, but that thought annoyed and disturbed him.

  And then there were questions surrounding Nyan’s background. According to the files, she had no family members listed and it suggested she lived alone. There was a note of her lodgings in Dorei, the list of ingredients, and the potion bottles found with her at the murder site, but that was it. Her age wasn’t listed, her suppliers, her patients… the lack of details was strange, and Roclan’s curiosity was peaked. It was as though she came from nowhere and left as little traces possible—a lonesome healer, traveling back and forth between three territories in the southwest area of the empire healing the citizens. It didn’t feel right. With no history of crime or violent disputes with others, her suddenly killing the general didn’t make sense. Roclan needed answers.

  He familiarized himself with the rest of the base but found himself back in the corridors that led to her cell; a faint melody floated to him. Intrigued, he made his way toward the sound, and the melody strengthened as it soared through the air.

  She was singing.

  Roclan stopped outside her cell door and listened intently. Her voice was beautiful. Clear and warm, it carried a sorrowful, husky golden tone, stirring that instinctive impulse within him.

  Head rested on the door, Roclan listened to her effortlessly weave from one melody to the next, flowing from sorrowful to hopeful to melancholy, and it was only when her last note rang out that he realized he’d been mesmerized. He stood still for a moment, grappling with the urge to open her door. Something more innate within him demanded that he enter, and he wasn’t fond of ignoring his instincts—they were what made him who he was.

  Making a decision, he slid the key in the lock.

  The singing abruptly stopped, and her chain scraped along the ground before all was silent.

  When Roclan entered, she was in the same position as before, bundled up in the far corner of the cell on top of her bedding, hugging her knees. At the sight of her, a pleased satisfaction whipped round Roclan’s body.

  “I’m not leaving this cell unless it’s to go to my execution,” she said firmly, as he turned and closed the door. “You can threaten me or punish me however—”

  “You will do as you’re told, Nyan.”

  She paused. “So you read my file. That was quick.”

  “There wasn’t much in there.”

  In the darkness, he watched her shrug. “There’s nothing much to know.”

  Curiosity drew Roclan closer to her, and the faint sweet scent in the air strengthened. “Like why a northern girl would be peddling medicines in the south?”

  She stiffened. “I do not ‘peddle.’”

  So she took her healer work seriously. Roclan came to a stop in front of her. “You are not approved by the Lox.”

  “The Lox don’t have to approve something for it to be—”

  Roclan’s attention suddenly switched to the exquisite scent rising from her, which was strengthening by the moment. Thick and luxurious, it barreled into him, knocking him off guard. The scent was unlike anything he’d ever experienced, so deliciously sweet and fragrant he could almost taste it on his tongue. As it intensified, it expanded around him, rolling over him in waves, each more powerful than the last. The scent worked through him just as her voice did, but this time it aroused every nerve, caressed every feral carnality in his body until he was almost violent with arousal.

  “No,” the female gasped. She pressed herself back against the wall, eyes wide on him. “No, no, no! Get away from me!”

  Roclan could barely pay attention to her words. The urge rising in him made thought difficult, and in truth, he was enjoying the sensation. But he had to remember w
here he was and why he was there. He couldn’t fuck up this opportunity—all protocols had to be followed, Commander Torin had said—

  The next delicious wave of the female’s scent broke his chain of thought, and a groan rumbled from his chest as a recognition registered. Omega. His Omega. Suddenly, his attraction to her made sense.

  The female on the ground in front of him was scrambling away, her eyes locked onto him. He lowered to a crouch and grabbed her, dragging her back in front of him.

  “You didn’t tell anyone you were an Omega?” he bellowed.

  “I didn’t need to,” she hissed, struggling in his grasp.

  “How did you expect to be protected?”

  “No one’s supposed to be so close to me! Just leave!”

  “You are going into your Haze.” Roclan was unable to help the satisfaction that entered his tone. He’d heard the Omega Haze was one of the most satisfying experiences an Alpha could have with an Omega. “There’s no point in fighting it.”

  “No!” The Omega tried to twist away from him, but he grabbed her by the shoulders and lifted her into a stream of soft light angling from the window. She smelled fucking perfect, and there was no doubt she was his, but he had to see her. The shards of light illuminated her dark bronze skin, a full, pouty mouth, a pert nose, and small eyes, all framed by the shaggy mess of brown hair that spouted everywhere. Although her features were delicate, her blended expression of fear, horror, and desire highlighted the strength of character that had always been present in her voice, and Roclan found himself captivated. She was a beauty like no other. “Nyan,” he murmured.

  “Don’t touch me!” she demanded, even as her scent told him he should already be undressed. “Let me ride out my Haze alone in here. Leave now!”

  Every instinct within him was displeased with that idea. “That is not happening.”

  “Get the fuck out!” she screamed, pounding her fists on his chest. “Don’t you dare stay in here, Alpha! I am in my right mind, and I’m telling you—”