Born to Be Bound

by Addison Cain

  Gulping for breath, she hung her head between her knees, trying to speak even though winded. "Blue pills, fake..."

  Someone brought her water, a match was struck, and a precious candle lit. Huddled around the light was a sight that made Claire's heart ache. The Omegas were skeletal, and so many were looking at her with eyes totally devoid of hope. But with the light, expressions changed. Some bloomed at her arrival, others fell dark with suspicion. Worst of all was the flat out envy... and Claire understood the reason. Shepherd had been feeding her; she was healthy. She had been given food while they had had nothing.

  It was Nona, one of the elders respected by the group, who spoke first. "Sweet goddess! Claire, I've been so worried."

  Her green eyes looked upon the familiar heart-shaped face, half-hidden by lank salt and pepper hair. "How many are left?"

  "Last head count was fifty-six."

  Claire felt sick. Fifty-six... practically a third of the remaining Omegas had been picked off while she had been imprisoned by Shepherd. "I have so much to tell you." Her voice grew stronger. "If you have not already figured it out, the blue pills are not heat-suppressants... they are fertility drugs. I went into my cycle right in the middle of the damn Citadel."

  Gasps of horror, too many staring with pity, shamed Claire.

  "There's more. Shepherd will not help. He refuses to send rations and wanted me to disclose your location so that everyone could be taken, segregated from the population, and readied for his Followers."

  "But isn't that what we want?" a redheaded woman by her side hissed.

  Claire looked Lilian dead in the eye, saw the miserable state she'd been reduced to and said, "You would be imprisoned and offered to a stranger in estrous, bonded to a man of his choosing. He told me so himself."

  "But would he feed us?"

  "Is that what you want?" Her arched eyebrows went up. Claire wanted to rail, to berate the woman, but she did nothing more than shake her head and continue. "I have also met with Senator Kantor. He offers food; he wants to help us."

  "How?" several voices asked in unison.

  "He needs a few days to get a plan together. Once I find out what it is, I'll come back and tell you. Then we can all decide."

  Nona put her hand on Claire's shoulder. "You are not going to stay? It's dangerous for you out there. Don't you know there is a huge bounty out on your head? Amelia saw the flyer two days ago."

  Claire scowled, but the news was not exactly surprising.

  Lilian poked the flesh of Claire's cheek. "You have grown fat. Shepherd's men were feeding you."

  Brushing off the fingers, Claire barked, "I was trapped in a room for five weeks!"

  "But they fed you!"

  "Quiet, Lilian," Nona snapped at the instigator. "You're hungry, not stupid... you can tell from her altered scent that Claire has been pair-bonded. They would feed what they want to keep. Instead of remaining with her mate, she escaped and came here to help us all."

  Claire was mortified.

  Did she really smell different? When more eyes began to shine at her in the light of the candle and noses began to sniff, all she could do was try not to shrink back.

  The question was tossed around. "Which one was it? Who claimed you?"

  Answering quickly, Claire muttered, "It doesn't matter."

  Lilian, her lips curled in a nasty sneer, laughed under her breath. Claire tried to remind herself that the redhead was starving to death, lived in a constant state of terror; her feral behavior was understandable.

  "I better go." Claire pulled Nona into a hug. "Expect me back in a few days."

  It felt good to smell and hold someone so familiar, someone she knew cared about her. When the extended embrace came to an end, Claire left, climbing through the dark causeways of Thólos all the way up to Corday's apartment.

  He'd never even known she'd been gone.

  Chapter 6

  With his head ducked low between his shoulders, Corday walked across the shadowed causeway, the man ahead in the flapping coat eyeing him like fresh meat.

  For two days he'd watched the chem pusher peddle to so many citizens it seemed staggering how freely the drug rings operated now that the Enforcers were off the radar. The thug made absolutely no secret of his unlawful business, almost taunting whoever might challenge his actions to dare speak it to his face.

  Without greeting, Corday grunted, "I need your heat-suppressants, the little blue ones."

  "Sure thing, man." It was obvious, apparent in the tone and cadence of the chem pusher's speech, that the dealer was an Outcast; by the dilation of his pupils, one who sampled his own wares. Sagging jowls bouncing, he pulled out a bottle. "Gonna cost ya. Going rate's a kilo of fresh produce and five rations of meat."

  "That right?" Corday shook his head, trying to avoid noticing any family resemblance in a convict the same age his father would have been. "I have something far more valuable than food we're willing to trade… if you can manage twenty or thirty bottles."

  Yellowed eyes narrowed. "Why you need so many?"

  Corday gave the man the most perverted of grins. "Let's just say, we like to keep our Omegas begging for it. If you supply, you can partake."

  "A man after my own heart." Chipped, brown teeth on display, a knowing smile accompanied the pusher's question, "How many did you catch?"

  Corday shrugged. "Enough to keep half the zone's dicks wet, so long as they're locked in estrous."

  Scratching his chin, the chem pusher cleared a great deal of phlegm from his throat laughing. "Shepherd's Followers slaughter any man caught with an induced Omega. A wise businessman might look for more than just meds…"

  Voice disinterested, Corday asked, "Such as?"

  "What you really came here for. Partners. My gang ain't afraid of Shepherd or his Followers. We can supply you and keep business running smooth."

  Hearing Shepherd's name thrown about casually brought a sneer to Corday's face. "Fuck Shepherd."

  "Sky-breather... without men like us at your back, Shepherd will fuck you."

  Cracking his neck, Corday muttered, "He doesn't scare me."

  Breath which stank of rotting things slid like grease up Corday's nose, the thug leaning nearer to taunt, "That's cause you ain't never seen him kill, or watched psychos bow to kiss his feet."

  Meeting those yellowed eyes, Corday stepped far too close for comfort. "You must think us sky-breathers are pretty stupid. The racket ain't nothing new. But, unlike you, we weren't dumb enough to get caught and crammed in the Undercroft. I said fuck Shepherd, and I meant it."

  The man flat-out guffawed. "You're one cocky little motherfucker. If your stock is any good, I'll get you what you need, kid. As much as you need. And you'll get us exactly what we want. That's how an alliance works. Or do they call it a trade agreement under the Dome?"

  #

  "They really must think every last law-abiding Enforcer is gone," Brigadier Dane muttered under her breath.

  The idiot on the causeways was either mentally challenged, or outright shameless of his crimes, acting as if consequence no longer existed. Not once had he suspected that Corday slipped a tracking device onto his person, not once had he even seemed wary. And even now that the creep was back in his cozy, dingy hole, she could hear the man laughing, the sounds of grunts, and hoarse, animalistic noises in the background.

  It was hard to listen to. The Alpha female was fully aware of what was going on behind the concrete walls bad men thought would keep their flagrant secret safe.

  What Corday had claimed to possess—Omegas kept like livestock—these men had in quantity. And they were being used even as the thug from the causeway plotted with his chums just how he planned to slice up the cocky kid who had such a mouth, laughing at how easy it would be to double-cross the boy, and how much they would rake in offering something other than used, slack pussy to the men lining up outside.

  Corday's continuous issue with insubordination aside, for once the Beta Enforcer had done something right;
the atrocities committed against those females had to be stopped. All the men inside had to be wiped from existence. And order—even if it was only a small step back to the way things were before—had to be enforced.

  Things had gone to hell under the Dome, the beauty of a functional system going up in smoke at the first sign of real trouble. It shamed Dane to see her brethren so weak, to know that the precious survivors of wars and plagues could still be reduced to nothing but the animals humanity had become before the Domes. Thólos Dome had been the bastion of civility; the greatest Dome on all the continents. What had been accomplished under the glass—the flourishing culture, the beauty of life beyond mere survival—was now abandoned by Erasmus Dome, by Bernard Dome, even by the poorest Vegra Dome. One hint of plague and any chance of support from the outside vanished.

  The issue had to be solved internally. Shepherd and his Followers had to be removed. The contagion had to be destroyed. And the infection—men like the thugs Dane twitched to kill—purged; an example made for others to follow.

  A day or two of surveillance and her team would demolish the upstart syndicate. Brigadier Dane smirked at the thought of a much-needed victory, eager to see the look on the wretches' faces when she shoved something unwelcome inside them—something pointy—to see how they liked it.

  #

  Claire was gaunt, blinking rapidly as she kept as far from Senator Kantor as the small space would allow. With Corday gone, the Senator had remained to question her in his absence, so they might discuss options for the Omegas.

  The options, it seemed, were limited. But anything was preferable to the other outcome; namely slavery, rape, or murder.

  But help came at a price.

  Senator Kantor was wise enough to keep his distance, to speak gently to the shifty-eyed woman pacing madly back and forth. "You must tell me about Shepherd. What you might know could save us."

  Just hearing that name sent her attention to all the corners, as if the Alpha could be conjured with only a word. Stopping her feet, Claire wrung her hands. "I keep telling you, I can't. I don't know anything."

  "You can do this," Senator Kantor urged. "Any information you divulge will help us all."

  "You don't understand." Impatiently pushing her hair behind her ear, she tried her best not to trip up the words. "He didn't talk to me..."

  The look of pity in Kantor's expression first inspired her anger, then shame. After what had happened, that look was one she would receive until the day she died.

  The Alpha coaxed out the subtleties of what he needed. "We can just talk about the man, your observations."

  "Okay..."

  Senator Kantor started off simply. "The Da'rin markings, do you know what they are?"

  Quoting what she'd been taught in school, Claire said, "Outcast tattoos—markings to depict whatever crime a prisoner was incarcerated for."

  Nodding, Senator Kantor offered further insight, "Yet most are earned in the Undercroft, given from one inmate to another—a testament prisoners coax into patterns under the skin."

  "Coax?"

  "They are not made from ink. Da'rin is a parasite."

  Brows drawn tight, Claire asked, "You purposefully infect convicts?"

  "The men in the Undercroft live without sun, are exposed to difficult conditions. We subject them to a beneficial symbiotic relationship so they might tolerate the environment they labor in. And, should they escape, they are unable to hide amongst the general population. Not only because they are branded—you see, sunlight makes the marks burn."

  But Shepherd openly wore his arms and neck displayed wherever he went, his large flexing muscles detailed with black for all to see. "That doesn't make sense."

  The old man sighed. "The patterns Shepherd chose hold great meaning amongst outcasts; it could help the resistance if we had a better understanding of the man... if you could describe the images we have not seen, we might build a profile, learn his secrets."

  Of course she knew Shepherd's marks by heart, could almost feel the heat of them moving under her roving palms. Face red, Claire stammered, "The ones on his arms, the ones you've seen. What are they?"

  "A tally of the men he's killed."

  Her embarrassed blush drained away, leaving her ashen. There were so many symbols swirled over the Alpha's flesh, hundreds of filigreed marks, thousands, and they extended over his chest, his back, his thighs and buttocks... even his...

  Her fear came back stronger than before, the link buzzing as if to question why she remained scared and alone when her protector longed to care for her.

  Senator Kantor stepped closer to regain her attention. "Is there anything you've seen amongst the tallies you might consider noteworthy?"

  Just looking at the man, tears running down her face, Claire drew a blank. "He's covered, everywhere. The patterns mean nothing to me, just edges and swirls." All those times she'd traced fingertips over them in the dark, she'd been unknowingly admiring the death of another of Shepherd's victims. "I didn't know..."

  The door opened, Corday returning to find Claire incredibly disturbed, her head in her hands.

  "Claire." The Beta rushed forward. When she didn't panic, he drew her down to sit before her unsteady legs gave out. "You're safe here, remember? You don't need to be scared."

  Something about Corday being in the room unhinged her tongue, Claire blurting out pointless observations in her horror over the marks. "His Followers speak another language; I never knew what they said." With a tired laugh that was disturbing in the extreme, she listed the only thing that was absolutely correct. "He likes to read. He holds my hair as he does it, so if I move, he'll know. I have to be very still."

  Corday whispered the question, "What happened if you moved?"

  "The book became less interesting." Claire quieted and turned her head towards the Senator, defiance drying her tears. "I was kept locked in a room. I had no exposure to anyone but him. There were no windows, everything was grey. The man never even shared a meal with me. Now, I've answered your questions, you answer mine. Beyond supplying true heat-suppressants, what will you do for the Omegas?"

  The Senator, in dire need of a shave, offered a smile. "Once the numbers are assessed, separate cells of two or three will be smuggled to safe houses that can be defended and monitored."

  Claire's ears pricked up, something in Kantor's statement sounding awfully familiar. "Why not just send food to where they are now? There is no need to move the group or break apart women who rely on one another for support."

  "We can discuss that option, though I believe it leaves you far more vulnerable than entrusting them to our protection."

  When had the government ever protected Omegas? Her kind practically had no rights without a mate to speak for them. "You will do nothing until I talk to the Omegas. They must decide," she said.

  "Claire," Senator Kantor pleaded, stepping closer to the female who clearly had lost her faith. "You need to trust us and stay here where you are sheltered. We can approach your Omegas."

  "No." Her voice sounded less like a frightened child and more like an angry woman. "I appreciate everything you offer, but even Shepherd couldn't drag the location of our hiding place from me. This plan you propose is their decision, and I will speak to them first."

  "You haven't slept in days, you hardly eat..." Corday grew stubborn, squeezing her clammy fingers. "Wandering around Thólos in this state will get you killed. If you have to go, then take me with you. A Beta will be less threatening, and there is safety in numbers."

  Taking her fingers from his hand, she considered. Coming to a decision was easy. "We'll go tonight, just you and me."

  Both men seemed appeased.

  Sheepish, Claire asked a favor. "I'm going to need clothing that can mask my scent. Everything here I have already worn... I cannot smell like an Omega."

  Nodding that he understood, Corday went to his dresser and pulled on a heavy sweater. "I'll go for a run. You can wear these when I return."

  Lashes lowe
ring, she whispered, "Thank you."

  Senator Kantor left, Corday his companion.

  Alone, she stood from the sofa to prepare.

  She needed a cold shower, all that freezing water would help clear the cobwebs. Claire cranked up the tap, eager for a deluge. She sighed the instant pipes groaned and her sleep-deprived mind mistook the noise for something very different. The effect was immediate. Under the spray, eyes closed, where there should only have been cold water streaming over her flesh, the heat of large hands replaced it.

  Roughened palms flowed over the line of her spine, soothed the dip in her lower back... the air full of appreciative grunts. Those same hands, callused and familiar, stroked her soft belly, stole upward to hold the weight of her breasts, thumbs circling pert nipples until they were so sensitive Claire whimpered. The thread pulsed in her chest, generous slick dripping down her legs once the growl sounded a third time.

  All around her, low breaths echoed deep and hungry, the heat of his chest pressed to her back, the thickness of his cock grinding at the cleft in her buttocks.

  Two fingers were pushed into her mouth.

  His order at her ear to suck, and Claire's eyes rolled back in her skull.

  Pressed to the tile, nipples chafed by grout, Claire's tongue hungrily twisted as it was told to. The head of his cock, searing hot, prodded insistent where she ached. His was not a slow entry. Shepherd speared her, his rhythm erratic, filling the small enclosure with Claire's muffled cries no matter how he finger fucked her mouth.

  Forehead against the tile, hardly able to breath, Claire came with a shriek. Everything inside her clenched, slick ran like a river, and the hallucination ended.

  Phantom hands were gone.

  There was no Shepherd.

  No growls.

  No licentious grunts.

  All there had ever been was the sound of the pipes and her inadequate fingers working her pussy.

  Shaken, she looked down at her hand, horrified to see what she'd done. She was going crazy, every other thought running out of control. In a panic, she reached for the soap and began to scrub away the pheromone-laced slick before the whole apartment reeked of Omega arousal.