by Addison Cain
In a voice almost laced with compassion, the male offered, "Your reaction was not unnatural."
It began to feel as if the whole thing had been planned, down to the very breath she drew to speak. "And your neck," she began in a voice full of self-hate, "does it still hurt?"
"Your touch eased the pain." Feeling her bury her face against him as if ashamed, he ceased the lesson and offered a purr, allowing his arms to come around her, to cradle her as she needed but could not ask for.
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It was not much longer, perhaps only a handful of days, before Claire began to sleep less and to grow anxious when left alone. She no longer found joy in her hours of seclusion as she had before he'd infected her with poison. Instead, isolation left her edgy. When Shepherd was not present, time dragged by; she found herself longing for his return no matter how much she denied it and hid in her burrow, praying for sleep to eat up the hours as it had before.
Ashamed of herself, she tried to hide her relief when Shepherd came through the door, did her best not to look at him too long. It didn't make any difference. He knew that very first time, and it showed in the intensity of his curious expression when he smelled the air in her direction. He responded to it with a smile that crinkled the skin at the corners of his eyes, and by immediately taking her body with a practiced, calculating sensuality, watching her obsessively with those all-seeing eyes. It was as if he knew what was warring inside her, knew that she was losing—grasped that Claire found it harder to hate him, and struggled even to hate herself.
When she fell to pieces and the shame knifed into her, she began to cry as if lost. Shepherd played his hand, behaving seemingly patient, and continued the manipulative assault on her convictions by comforting her with deep purrs even as he mounted her, fucking the Omega until she forgot she had been upset in the first place.
The culmination of her ruin was the perpetual attack that persisted even in her sleep. Claire's dreams were filled with soft things, warmth, and the scent of her mate... his voice, the feel of his roughened hands slipping over her skin. The dream grew stronger nightly, and to her horror, she awoke half aware and throbbing for him to fill her. She instinctively reached for him the third or fourth time she'd awoken in that state, trailing her hand down his muscular body, pressing closer in her dazed need while she hummed in the dark. Shepherd responded with absolute enthusiasm, rolling his silken weight on top of her and groaning long and deep to find her already dripping wet. In that dreamlike mating, Claire could not get enough of his skin, cried out for him when his cock replaced where his fingers had been exploring, and held him as if he were hers, as if he were precious. When a corner of her mind rebelled, she shut it off, unwilling in that moment to recognize her failing, needing the fantasy just once where she was happy. And just like that, she lost another part of herself to a monster.
As he moved inside her, the thread resonating in joy, she realized how easy it could be—how dreamlike, how intoxicating—if she would only forget and submit. When she urged him to go faster, to give her more than slow, soothing thrusts, she came apart underneath him as he pounded away, the bond throbbing as powerfully as her pussy when she burst apart. Shepherd knotted deep, the sounds he created, the transcendent quality of his iron eyes, making it clear it was the most fulfilling orgasm he'd ever known.
He praised her for hours afterward, stroking and purring, and she wished he would not speak. Claire did not want to hear how well she had pleased him or how beautiful he found her. It was making her remember that she was Claire and he was Shepherd, and all the things he had done, and all the ways she had failed in so short a time.
When she woke again he was working at his desk, breathing in and out in a rhythmic purr that seemed so commonplace she hardly noticed it anymore. With him shirtless, Claire could see every line of his muscles, the dips and curves of a man built to break things. All that strength covered in a testament of murder...
Pulling a dress over her head, she sat at the edge of the bed and watched him.
Shepherd turned and looked at her, approval obvious between his lashes.
How far she'd fallen. Mortification made breath difficult. "How are the Omegas?"
The change in her captor was immediate. All trace of amusement vanished, and in its place was the hardness and dominance he exercised expertly. "They are exactly as they should be."
"Subjugated and imprisoned?" Claire challenged, standing up to force herself to pace. She should have been pacing for days... why had she stopped pacing? Why had she not asked sooner? What the fuck was wrong with her?
"Come here."
Her barked answer was immediate. "No."
She needed to go back to the status quo, to remembering to hate the father of her baby, not to admire his body... never to allow pleasant feelings for him. She should be wishing him dead, not prizing his attention. Wringing her hands, she marched, pointedly ignoring the giant rising from his chair to subdue her.
A meaty hand locked on her shoulder atop the claiming marks Shepherd had inflicted and tended each day. The discomfort of compressing tender flesh made Claire wince; she pressed her lips into a line and refused to look. Heat rose from his body, seeped into hers, and the smell—the necessary scent—forced her to close her eyes and focus to maintain defiance against a man who was her foe, not her lover.
"You will cease this at once." His voice was not hard.
"I will not."
His tone dropped considerably, it promised things. "Little one..."
Trying to shrug out of his grasp only enticed Shepherd's anger.
That was good, wasn't it? He had been too gentle, pretending he was not a beast who imprisoned and poisoned her. She needed to see the dragon, to hear the angry growls, to feel the thread buzz badly out of tune.
The fan of black lashes lifted, she looked him dead in the eye. "I will not stop."
"Your fear of change and this acting out is beneath you."
Frustrated, Claire clenched her fists. She wheezed.
A voice dripping reason came from lips that had tasted every inch of her skin. "If you wish to mate, you do not need to pick a fight to justify your desire to yourself. That is what you are doing, little one; expecting that my reaction will be to respond by mounting you—because you do not want to acknowledge that you are already wet and ready."
That was not what she was doing! Was it? A look of horror came to her face when she realized that she did smell of slick, that she was incredibly aroused... but she was also angry. She put her head in her hands, to hide her face, wishing she could just explode. "You do not understand me at all!"
"Then tell me what the point of this tantrum is?" he challenged in a mellow voice, still refusing to show the anger she wanted so badly to foster. "There will be no change to the Omega situation. You know that. I know that. Conversation on the topic is pointless and basely inflammatory... you desire my reaction, and we both know what you want me to do."
Claire started yanking on her hair.
Shepherd spoke again, "If you do not ask in this instance, then I will not give you what you want."
A sly smile, a nasty hateful grin, came to Claire's lips. She lowered her hands and looked into the unaffected silver. "I can tell you what I want! I want the Omegas to be treated as humans, not livestock. I want them to have the choice in whom they mate—to be safe and fed, and not treated like sex toys for your disgusting Followers!"
He still sounded so calm, but the embers were igniting. "I caution you to carefully consider your next words."
Her eyes fell to the expanse of his chest, staring hard where the thread was attached. She thought of the needle he'd jammed into her; she thought of his promise on the roof. "I am starting to remember myself. I will find a way to be free."
In one quick yank he shook her roughly. "You will never leave this room!"
The customary discord was back, a shrill piercing pluck at the cord. Claire breathed in relief to feel it as Shepherd yanked her towards the bed. She was
thrown down, the giant looming tall over her; but he did not touch her, only glared, his chest heaving, as if he wished to rip off her head. Then he turned and left, locking the door loudly to make his point.
Her victory was short-lived when uncomfortable loneliness set in. He did not return to her. At length, the blue-eyed Beta brought her next meal and Claire understood she had been upgraded to solitary confinement.
She was pregnant, her scent no longer enticing to his men. Shepherd could avoid her as much as he wished and have his peons bring her food... and she would simply have to endure it.
As she ate a dinner of lamb and roasted baby potatoes, she began to cry, missing Shepherd's presence and hating herself for it.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Born to be Broken: Alpha’s Claim, Book Two
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