Born to Be Bound (14 page)

Claire was about to start tearing out her hair. "Shepherd, get the fuck out of this room! Take your poison and short-sighted assumptions about Omegas and LEAVE!"

When she saw laughter between his lashes, she lashed out and slapped him as hard as she could. All her violence accomplished was her stinging palm; Claire squeezing her fingers into a fist to cradle the offended digits to her chest. He seemed calm, as if completely expecting her tantrum, and stood through it as she railed and tried to get up from the chair.

When she was a disheveled mess, hair wild and eyes threatening murder, she felt another wave of horrible feverishness, worse than before, and growled like a beast. "I hate you!"

"You are hormonal."

Of course she was hormonal; he'd been pumping her full of hormones!

It came out from between tightly clenched teeth. "You are a pig... a bad mate."

"I guarantee that you will like me much better in a matter of hours," he cooed evilly, the backs of his fingers reaching out to stroke her cheek.

Claire jerked away and burst into tears. She didn't know if this was some sort of fucked up punishment or just another part of her life he had in his control. All she knew was that everything about what he'd done was not okay.

When he tried to pet her hair, she slapped his hand away and shrieked, "
Don't touch me
!"

She bent over, hid her face in her skirt, and sobbed. Shepherd stood by through the good ten minutes it took before her wailing distorted into gasping hiccups.

"If you will stop this crying, I will take you outside and show you your sky," he offered, his jeering replaced with subtle enticement.

She stayed bent, her face hidden, and slapped at the air in his direction. "Go to hell."

The thread, the little link between them, had been so happy, so full and warm, only an hour before, but now the thread was only pain, like a razor blade in her chest. She hoped to god it hurt him as much as it was hurting her, that the damn greasy cord was a two way sense of torture. But then she remembered that he was only a psychopath with no heart, incapable of human emotion... that he was torturing Thólos on purpose.

Thinking about her mother, Claire understood everything that must have been going through that woman's head all those years... eating away at her until she just couldn't take it anymore. Her father may have been a decent man, but even Claire could see that her mother had not wanted him... that she'd longed for the female Alpha next door that she could never have. How freeing her suicide must have been. Control of her destiny, of the one thing the pair-bond wielding Alpha could not decide for her. The idea was growing increasingly appealing.

"I do not approve of the direction of your thoughts," Shepherd growled, low and threatening.

Claire ignored him.

Large hands circled her arms and pulled her up to stand. Refusing to look at him, she sniffed and turned her head, staring pathetically at the far wall.

"We will go outside. You will see your sky and you will feel better." It was a command. "This emotional response from the medication will pass."

It was like he had no idea how people worked.

All the signs of a steadily encroaching heat cycle were there: trembling shivers, cold sweat, her digestive tract shutting down. All the cleaning, the need for the room to be ready... Shepherd was right; in a few hours she would be begging him to fuck her.

Covering her mouth, another wave of nausea came.

He let her go, watching as she ran to the bathroom to vomit. Between her stomach vacating retches, she distantly recognized that he was holding back her hair, that his hand was stroking her back. Everything she had eaten was expelled until nothing but bile came up. She felt so utterly sick and so completely debased, sitting there on her knees with the very cause of her torment the facsimile of comfort.

"Why are you doing this?" she breathed, even as he wiped a cool towel over her face.

"I desire offspring; a legacy."

"You're sick." Rational thought was returning and Claire struggled to crawl out of the cradle of his lap so she might reach the sink and rinse out her mouth. "Even you must see that this is no place for a child."

He spoke with assurance, watching her brush her teeth and looming far closer than was comfortable. "Pregnancy will calm you into the rightful state of mind. There is no need for you to be upset, little one. I will provide you both with safety and comfort."

Spitting, she snarled, "Safety? You just poisoned me. Comfort? I live in a concrete box!"

His deeply warning silver eyes narrowed, Shepherd was clearly losing patience. "It was necessary, and it will only be beneficial to you if in your coming estrous cycle you should conceive."

"Do not make it sound as if your actions benefit me. I would be completely at your mercy; pregnancy would make me actually
need
you!"

"You are already completely at my mercy. No more sulking." He took her by the scruff of the neck, the purr he'd incessantly offered never wavering as walked her back into the bedroom. "We will walk now."

Claire was not stupid. "Don't pretend this is an act of kindness. You want me to leave the room so others can come in and prepare it."

"You are very clever, little one. A good trait for the mother of my progeny."

"And you are very evil," she answered back, eyeing the mountain before her with abject loathing.

Shepherd seemed to grow, to spread out into the dim darkness of her prison. "I can be. But I am also a man, and I expect a child from the one I chose as mate. It is unfortunate the timeline does not please you, but it is what I wish." A large palm was extended for her to take, not exactly an act of politeness, and not exactly a threat. "Now come. I will escort you outside."

Claire had no coat and no shoes, so Shepherd wrapped her in a blanket, wiped her face and smoothed her hair, purring loudly to keep her from snarling. There was absolutely no one in the halls he led her through, as if he had prepared and ordered off any men who might have encountered the Omega that belonged to him. Walking the labyrinth, Claire memorized every turn, each little landmark, building a map in her head, ready to bolt at the first opportunity. Through it all, Shepherd maintained an unrelenting clamp on her hand. She wasn't going anywhere.

Their silent journey ended at the lower terrace, near the base of the Citadel—a disappointing segment which offered little in terms of the view beyond the fog-coated Lower Reaches. The blue-eyed Beta was there, armed and staring straight ahead, but no one else.

Feet freezing against the ground, a stiff wind pressed the fabric of the blanket against her legs, all discomfort was ignored by the unhappy Omega. Though it was dark, there was an expanse of sky far above, surrounded by towers reaching up to brush the top of the Dome.

If she squinted she might make out the stars.

Claire ached, her heart a deep-seated, rotting piece of meat encased in ribs damaged by the worming thread. Absently she began to rub at the spot, staring through tears, sick, and nearing hopelessness.

Shepherd stood behind her, flush to offer body heat, toying with her hair as it blew in the gusts. Every part of her longed to shove him away, to pull her hair from his fingers, but she knew that screaming at him in a rage in the room was the extent of the disobedience Shepherd would allow. Challenging him in front of a male, his subordinate Follower, would not end well for her. He had so much more to threaten her with now that chemically induced estrous approached. If she pushed him hard enough, he might go so far as to let his men mount her, and she was terrified at the thought of being shared like a whore.

A torment was coming. She was young, fertile, and Shepherd's scent advertised virile male. They were extremely biologically compatible. He would create life within her. As if it were already an actuality, Claire looked down to her flat belly and pressed her hand to where, in less than a week, a baby would be growing.

His nose was at the back of her skull, Shepherd breathing deeply. "You are feeling better."

"Does it matter how I feel?" she asked, low enough that her words were kept between them.

Tugging gently on her hair exactly the way he knew would calm her best, he answered, "It matters."

"I will never forgive you for this."

The man purred louder, his arm slipping about her middle like an anchor.

Turning around, eyes level with his chest, Claire put her hand on the relative part of his body where her own worming thread was hooked. Lifting wet, spiky lashes to look into expressionless silver eyes, she openly wept. "This is where you are tied to me, where the bond is threaded. Perhaps you are incapable of feeling what you've done, but I do know this: pair-bonded Alphas are supposed to care for their Omegas. But you do not... so why pair-bond to me? If all you wanted was a child, you could have injected me with your drugs and seeded me just the same. Why make me carry the burden of an unfulfilling bond? Why ruin me so I might never be happy?"

He did not look away, but she got the feeling he was trying to look through her. After the space of three breaths, Shepherd spoke. "You are young and believe that you understand the world from your short-sighted, idealistic perspective. You think you know much more than you do," he explained as if he were some great eloquent teacher, the music of his voice unaffected by the wind. "Sometimes, it is as unsophisticated as a man simply wanting to because he could, saw a chance, and took it."

The giant was talking in circles, giving her nothing at all. Claire took her hand from the place where she hoped he might feel something—some hint of regret, something for her beyond the idea of a possession. "I will fight estrous."

"You will try." A finger hooked her chin and brought her attention higher. He was serious, his expression conveying his point. "But I am your mate, and I will see you through this heat. I will tend you and give you pleasure, and when it is finished, you will give me what I desire."

"If I fail to conceive, will you drug me again?"

Tucking back a strand of her hair, he nodded and softly answered, "Yes."

Locked in that silver gaze, Claire muttered, lost and shaken, "My feet are cold."

"I am aware, but I want you to experience your sky for as long as you can." He rubbed her back as if to warm her and continued almost gently, "We both know you cannot be trusted, little one. Therefore, you will not be seeing it again for quite some time."

A large warm thumb was already there to wipe away the angry tears he knew would fall at his verdict.

#

Corday pressed his back to the wall behind him and tried to ignore the chemically induced begging of the women locked in the room at his back. Only six Beta Enforcers had been allowed to remain on scene at the safe house, rotating who had to enter the room to force-feed the Omegas heat-suppressants every four hours. They did what they could to block out the pheromones, wore masks drenched in pungent oil, moved as quickly as possible. Even so, it set the Betas into the rut and each man had been tested. Two had been dragged outside to breathe clean air when whoever was watching through the pane of glass saw the change come over their comrade.

It was not intentional, and not one of the women had been touched. The compulsion was simply an act of nature they prepared for with checks and balances. The Enforcers tending to the Omegas worked as a team for that very reason. But even with their careful nursing, one of the females—a body that was little more than skin and bones—had already died from lack of nutrition and unseen internal injuries.

No one knew what her name was when they buried her in an overgrown terrace lawn, as deep as they could dig before hitting structure. Her story was unknown, another Jane Doe left to rot by Shepherd's occupation. The Omega had dark hair like Claire, a similar small frame; as the dirt had been laid over her, Corday felt sick, had almost cried, and went back inside before it was done, unable to look any longer.

Twelve hours had passed since the Omegas' first dose. Through the small window, Corday could see the sky had grown dark and braced himself. He would be next to enter the room reeking of chemically exaggerated estrous.

An alarm beeped, and the Enforcer who would watch over him as he shoved medicine into the women's mouths said, "It's time, man."

Nodding, Corday stood, took the offered mask they'd drenched in stink, then grabbed the pills and water. The door was opened and he moved forward, unconsciously holding his breath to start from left to right.

Their jaws opened willingly to suck his fingers. It was getting them to swallow that was almost impossible. He had to purr brokenly, which forced him to breathe, and practically drown them until they managed to swallow the pill. He made it through all five, felt the fever, and backed away even as his cock began to throb so hard it hurt. Once outside the room, he practically ran outdoors, his mind full of Claire and the moment of weakness he'd had at the apartment when the bathroom had smelled so damn good and had made him so fucking hard.

The fact that even at that moment he wanted to reach into his slacks and jack off filled him with self-loathing. Corday fought it, stood in the cold for over an hour... just as all the other Enforcers who had been in the room had. Eventually he found himself, grew flaccid, and went back inside to continue his watch. He prayed to the god of the Betas that he would not have to go back into that room.

The prayer, like all his others, was not answered.

It took almost three full days for the Omegas to come out of estrous, and five more trips into the pheromone-laced hell for Corday. As the females came to their senses, they were confused and scared... most having been so high they hardly remembered what had happened to them. The ones that did remember were inconsolable or blank—like dolls with nothing inside. The Enforcers gave them food, each man assigned shifts for suicide watch.

Another Omega died by morning, that most vacant one... cause unknown. It was Brigadier Dane who sighed and said it seemed like the girl had just decided to stop breathing.