Book Title: Malthusia Fate
Author: Emma Jaye
Publisher: Purindoors Publications
Cover Artist: Nero Seal
Release Date: 14 August, 2020
Genre/s: Dark, genderfluid parallel universe,
omegaverse (non-shifter, scientifically plausible)
Trope/s: Hurt/comfort. Abuse/oppression survival
Themes: kidnap, scientific experimentation, forced pregnancy,
religious/political oppression. Knotting/heat
Length: 130 000 words
It is the first in a series but works alone and has an HFN ending.
Buy Links – Available on Kindle Unlimited
Universal Link | Amazon US | Amazon UK
Our perfect society is tainted.
Blurb
I run because I don’t have a choice. I run for those who can’t, for those inside me.
The Three Faced God should have chosen my Fate, should have molded me according to the needs of my fellow Malthusians, but some assume they are above even God. I should have been at least a beta, hopefully an alpha, but never this. They thought changing my body would change my soul, that I’d be a compliant omega while they used and experimented on me. Others die, others submit, and say its their Fate. I know different. A malthusian caused this, one of my own kind. They think they’ve won, but I’ll win, simply by living another second, another day. But can I survive alone?
Adult content, a gritty, alternate universe storyline, including genetic engineering, captivity, torture, domestic abuse, forced pregnancy, and murder. Alpha, beta, and omega genderfluid characters.
Brenen hunched over and held their hand out to shake an imaginary hand. “‘Yes, sir, Mr. Grabar Prime Alpha sir. We’ll take good care of your offspring. Only the very best for the Grabars, sir’. The Dean did everything but present their bony backside to both of you.”
Taven blinked as the others eagerly waited, bright-eyed, for the explosion they apparently expected.
“Well, the Dean buggered up with that one, didn’t they? The stupid sod put me in with you bastards. Plus, I don’t think my lot will want me back when I specialize in omega medicine.”
Brenen let out a bark of laughter. “Had us going there for a minute. You know, you’re all right, Grabar.”
Grinning, Taven replied, “Nah, I’m an asshole, but please, call me Taven. The less I’m reminded of my dear family, the better.” Taven took a gulp of the strong dark beer everyone was drinking. Hopefully, they’d get used to it because it tasted even worse than the lighter beer back home.
“So what’s so wrong with growing up in the lap of luxury that you’d give it all up for the pleasures of being an unaffiliated beta? Most of us would have killed to have the advantages you do,” the oldest housemate, Keyen asked.
They all turned toward Taven, obviously still wondering how the young posh new meat would react if pushed. Taven leaned back, making the chair creak, and took a large swallow of beer.
“I have to admit the food was good, but sharing a bed and everything else with proto-alpha twins three years older than me? Not fun.”
“It’s a wonder you’ve still got a cock,” one of the others commented with sympathy.
“What did you do, pick on the betas and younger kids to make yourself feel better?” Brenen asked.
“I came here to avoid crap like this. For some stupid reason, I thought mature, academically inclined betas would be above shitty dominance games. I didn’t play them at home, and I won’t play them here. If this is what students spend their leisure time doing, I’ll request a single room in the morning. I’m sure the Dean will grant my request, me being a Grabar and all. Goodnight.” Taven spoke clearly but firmly, then stood up.
Brenen grinned. So did the others. “Welcome to the group, Taven. We were testing you. We don’t hold with pigeonholing people either. Most of us are involved in the student beta and omega rights movements.”
Taven sat back down, excitement bubbling. “Really? There’s an omega rights movement here?”
A fascinating debate evolved, led by Brenen, and fueled by copious amounts of strong beer that grew on Taven with every mouthful. One by one the others left, citing early lectures. Taven had one as well, but finally finding someone who not only understood their views but agreed with them, had Taven rooted to their seat.
Leaning forward, Taven felt wetness but couldn’t be bothered to move the elbow soaking up the pool of beer on the rickety table.
“Any animal can reproduce; even mindless worms and flies mate and produce young. Us betas have a higher calling.” Brenen waved their glass toward Taven, a slop added to the beer pond. Neither cared. “We liberate our species from the shackles of sexual obsession that other animals and our gendered battle with daily. Not that the poor hormone-driven fucks can help it.”
Taven nodded with enthusiasm, positive that this conversation was worth its weight in gold. Finally, Taven felt real kinship with another that had nothing to do with sharing genes. “Don’t you think it’s ironic that it’s us betas who give the alphas their power? We outnumber them eight to one, and most of us still turn pale when one growls.”
“Those assholes don’t make me turn pale,” Brenen slurred.
For the first time, Taven thought this principled new friend a little naive.
“You ever had one angry at you? In your face? Because if it happened, you’d back down too.”
“Aw, are you scared of your Pa, little Tav?” Brenen pouted and fluttered long eyelashes.
Taven snorted. “Too bloody right I am, and you should be too. Telish Grabar is six foot seven, built like a brick shit house and enjoys giving public displays of dominance. If you’d seen what happens to a beta who pisses him off, you’d be on your knees when he ordered it, the same as everyone else. I’ve never seen an alpha who doesn’t tilt his chin to him either.”
“So why did you leave if he’s so scary? Don’t you believe betas should support their family, increase the prosperity of their bloodline?”
“That’s crap, and you know it,” Taven waved a finger at Brenen. The other beta seemed to be swaying in their seat a little, or it could have been them, Taven didn’t care. Getting the point across took priority over drunken dizziness.
“Individual bloodlines are the obsession of the fertile, not betas.” Taven banged the surprisingly empty glass down on the table that had borne witness to several decades of over-opinionated beta students.
“Totally true. Even if a beta possesses more talent in their little finger than in a dozen alphas put together, they don’t receive the consideration or legal protection that even the stupidest, most aggressive, sex-obsessed alpha does.”
Taven picked up the baton as Brenen took a slurp of beer. “Even complete morons like my brother Zepish, because they can impregnate someone, get handouts from the council to maintain their lifestyles and keep them out of trouble. All alphas should pay for themselves, and though I don’t agree with much my father does, he does do that. But I bet he still accepts the council stipend. That money should go to those who can’t support themselves, the sick, the needy, and the poor fucking omegas who don’t get a fucking choice.”
Taven couldn’t remember ever saying the f-word out loud at home, but their excitement at finally finding a like-minded audience knew no bounds.
“Unaffiliated betas have to provide for themselves, but at least we have a choice to affiliate to an alpha or not.” Taven shook their head sadly while reiterating common knowledge as if it were the Holy Grail of new information. As both betas were on their sixth pint, neither noticed the conversation going in circles.
“It’s as if everyone in charge thinks brains are in dicks, the bigger one you have, the cleverer you are,” Taven slurred, waving a finger in the air.
“Cleverer?” Brenen frowned, then burst out laughing. Taven would have fallen off their chair as they joined in if Brenen hadn’t provided a steadying hand.
Emma was destined to be a little quirky after being born as an unexpected twin in Hungry Bottom (Yes, it’s a real place).
Known as the Queen of Angst because she loves putting damaged, often sweet and funny characters through hell before letting them have a HFN or HEA ending.
She blames her rebellious muse (who looks like Chris from the Paint Series) for the erotic aspects tickling the angst and the humour climbing into bed with the erotic.
When not writing or reading in leafy Sussex, England, she herds Birman cats and sons; both groups argue that there are too many of the other sort.
Social Media Links
Blog/Website | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram
Newsletter Sign-up | BookBub | Goodreads
Follow the tour and check out the other blog posts and reviews here