Olan Lundin. The boss of all bosses in their outer sector wasteland.
Nikolai despised him with the passion of a hundred glowing suns.
“When you’re done, make the seats inside shine bright, or you’ll be held down, ass-fucked, knotted, and given a whipping you won’t forget.”
“Careful.” Olan’s second, Selig, bobbed down the steps right behind, as blond and shiny as all the Lundins. “He might just like it. Like his omega whore of a mother.”
The two Alpha males chuckled.
Nikolai barely blinked. The thick bands that circled his skin and shifted color with his mood remained black. He was used to the insults. These rotations, while Nikolai and his siblings slept in a broken sewage drain near the outpost borders, their old stomping grounds had been infested with Lundin scum. Worse, the planet and main house weren’t the only things Olan had claimed when he’d taken charge: Nikolai’s mother was now Lundin’s property as well.
The Alpha mafia boss had arrived six months ago at the frontier outpost on the ice planet Abzal, dripping in the kind of wealth and advanced weaponry the provincial inhabitants had never before seen. He’d ousted the small-time crime ring that had previously been terrorizing the planet—a crew run by Nikolai’s father—and immediately made it clear he wasn’t to be fucked with.
What Olan wanted, he got.
The inhabitants of the outpost fell in line and paid him protection money, or they died.
But Nikolai had other plans.
As several more of Olan’s Alpha soldiers emerged from the shuttle and pulled travel bags full of money from the rear storage compartment, Nikolai tightened his grip on his rag and used the blade hidden within to scrape a small chunk of gold trim from the side of the shuttle. He dropped it into the dirty ice slush in his bucket.
Better to get even than mad.
Plus, feeding six other mouths wasn’t easy.
“I hate this fucking cold.” Olan stomped his feet as his men formed a chain leading to the main house, tossing the bags off to one another as the winds whipped at their beards and sent their long white hair flying. “Fucking Brotherhood. Giving me shit territory like this to control while other heads get to strut around in two sun sectors.”
Too bad this is our summer, asshole. Unlike Lundins, Nikolai’s people had red-tinged, thicker hides that meant they didn’t need layers of fancy furs to stay warm. It also made them easier to rescue during the blizzard season and harder to burn in the constant light reflecting off the ice covering ninety percent of the planet.
“At least this shithole is off the radar of the Federation police,” cajoled Selig. “And defenseless.” He patted a valise full of cash before tossing it on. “These backwater outer planets are ripe for the plucking and always ready to pay for protection. The Brotherhood will be pleased.”
Olan’s frown lightened. “Tonight, we celebrate! Holes for all!”
Olan’s men cheered. Lust, aggression, and the promise of violence choked the air.
“Prepare the property omegas. Especially Naytalia. I want my cock sucked now!”
Nikolai was suddenly very glad he’d sent his younger brothers and sister, minus the ten-month-old twins, to the ice slush sector to poke through the trash for anything useful.
Of course, he wished he’d insisted they all go, but Maxheim and Alexi had been whining that it was next to impossible to handle Zaya and Mikhail now that they were starting to crawl, and Nikolai had figured the twins needed to nap, anyway. He’d reasoned Naytalia’s room was a hell of a lot safer than the infested polar rat sewers where Zaya and Mikhail usually bedded down.
Now, he wondered if he’d guessed wrong.
Because when Olan and his men got riled up like they were now, they didn’t care who or what they shoved their fists or dicks into. Any weaker or younger non-Brotherhood Alpha was up for grabs, as were the usual fodder of betas and omegas.
That’s the way it always was.
The strong preyed on the weak.
Luckily, he’d been born an Alpha. He just had to survive to adulthood to reap the benefits.
“M-My Lord Alpha Lundin.” The nervous sound carried above the roar of laugher and chest-pounding as a brave beta hurried toward Olan. The beta’s gray robe dragged through the ice and slush as he bowed low. Unlike omegas who were dressed to entice and please their Alphas, betas were expected to be covered and hooded to lessen their distraction and improve their ability to serve. “I-I apologize, but your property Naytalia is not currently in the omega waiting room with the others.”
Utter silence.
It was never good to deny Olan what he wanted.
Nikolai’s old home was divided into two sections. The front section was for public, official gatherings and operated more like a town hall than a home. The back was connected to the front by a long corridor and held the private quarters. The servants crowded into several rooms to sleep. The same went for most of the omegas. However, since Naytalia was a favorite, Lundin had given her a private sleeping room. Still, he expected her to await him in the omega stable like the rest.
“Where the fuck is she?” Olan’s snarl broke the tense hush.
The beta paled and took a small step back. “I-I am not sure, my Alpha Lord.”
The air crackled with menace.
Nikolai stifled a curse.
He suspected everyone present had a damn good idea who Naytalia was with, even if they didn’t know where she was.
His mother was most likely being fucked by the Kuril crime boss, who’d been a guest of Olan’s these past few rotations and who appeared to like using her as much as his host did.
Which probably wouldn’t have been a problem—since omega property were expected to service all sanctioned guests—but Naytalia seemed to have developed a fondness for the Kuril warlord. She hadn’t been seeing to any other Alpha’s needs lately, especially Olan Lundin’s.
Worse, it was rumored that her gift, the ability to hear others’ thoughts, had resurfaced after years of dormancy, and it had happened not at Olan’s command, or even in his presence, but while the Kuril crime boss had been slamming away inside her.
Short-fused and territorial, Olan had no problem sharing his indentured omegas’ bodies with other Alphas, but the use of their gifts was meant for him alone.
“Where is she?” As if Nikolai had drawn the fucker’s attention with his thoughts, the Lundin top Alpha stalked in his direction. “Tell me where that worthless omega property whore of mine is, or you and the rest of her offspring will suffer unimaginable agony before I allow you to die.”
Rage coated everything red.
Nikolai’s gums throbbed as his Alpha instincts took hold, his fangs clawing for release.
One thing you didn’t fuck with was his family. He didn’t include his father in that circle because he’d been more sperm donor than paternal figure. He was also on the fence about including his mother in that category. Even before Olan’s arrival, she seemed to think she’d done her part simply by bringing each of them into the world.
Still, he’d always be grateful to her for that.
The six other Skolov souls she’d brought into the universe were the only things that were truly his. The only things that looked at him as if he mattered.
He was their Alpha, and he intended to guard them to his dying breath.