Merricks Book - The 12 Sectors - Redeeming Her Alpha (authors rough cut)

Chapter 2

Zinn

THIS MAN IS DIFFERENT

Petar disappeared to do his scrubbing. There was always some kind of scrubbing to do. Pots for food or buckets for crap. He'd seek her out later when nothing else needed to be done for the day.

Zinn knew about scrubbing. She shared in the duty. With a tribe status just above Petar's, they both worked the dirtiest tasks. The sirrah scrubbed nothing. Instead their job was hunting, providing food, protecting the warren, and finding studs for breeding.

The elders made laws and sat around all day thinking and talking. Sometimes they kept busy with their hands or minded the youngest of the babies. In the evenings, they told stories and sang songs. Zinn felt as if she often had to finish what the old ones started. There were eleven of them and no one seemed capable of changing an infant's dirty pants or holding a nervous baby who cried all day. And she couldn't remember the last time she'd seen an elder prepare a meal.

The other women in the warren, those who didn't hunt and who weren't old, worked on the daily business of living. There was a garden that Mombie and some others had worked on since the first days. It always needed tending and food preparation was always in a constant state, from one pot to the next.

Hearing noises behind her, Zinn refused to turn and look. The sirrah naturally drew everyone's notice. Entering the main area from the other side of the room, Zinn assumed they'd managed to drug the alpha again and get him to the meat hoist that could take him up and into the warren. A curtain of skins usually covered that hole to keep the weather out, but Zinn could smell the wash of clean, fresh air entering the room with their presence. Someone had forgotten to tie the curtain back. Everyone in the room perked up, filled with fresh energy at the sirrah's return—as if they could already smell the alpha musk.

At least the two captives were quieter now. Gagged? Unconscious? The sirrah had attempted to enforce some of their own safety rules, she guessed.

Carelessly dropping her small sticks into the kindling pile like she was deaf to the show taking place, she kept her eyes on her task. A male and a child were a big deal. Everyone would have something to say about it. But it all had nothing to do with her. She didn't want to think about what would happen to them here.

Zinn emptied the last of the debris from the basket into the fire and turned to leave. Head down, shoulders slumped, she headed for the nursery chamber, where she spent most of her time. She already had enough things to do, and looking empty handed usually got her more of the same.

"You there. You're good with children."

Hetete had seen her. Damn.

She and another sirrah had the girl-child tied up like a pig between them, a hood over her head. The little one flopped, lifeless. It appeared they'd drugged her, too. Didn't they know their potent mix of alpha sleep could harm someone so small?

"Take her to the nursery. Make sure she lives. Did you see what she did to the first sister? Can't imagine what she's been through with that big stud, so don't trust her. Not until she understands she's safe here." Hetete had scratches up her forearm, and her knuckles were bloody and scraped. Zinn guessed that the little girl, covered with material from head to toe, had tried to hide in some very thorny underbrush.

The young one obviously disagreed about who was safe and who was not. She was connected to the male—his daughter, maybe.

Hetete and the other woman jostled the child, pressing her into Zinn's arms. The girl was soft and boneless, fully unconscious.

Standing closer than she'd like to the two sirrah, Zinn could smell the hormone-filled, musky-slick scent of their mild arousal. Being near the strange looking bear man had done something uncomfortable to them, giving Zinn more reasons to want to leave the room.