Born to Be Bound (17 page)

Every feeling inside made her long to spit out the truth, to scream that she did not love him at all. But she could smell the aggression, the dominance and anger, and knew speaking was dangerous. Their conversation was at an end, the point driven home a moment later when his hand slipped under her skirt and the growl was made.

Chapter 11

It took a bit of creative thinking to learn the location of Claire's domicile before the occupation. All network systems in the Dome had been terminated, even COM towers were destroyed to ensure the population had little means to communicate or muster outside of face-to-face contact. All that was left was emergency hardware.

Shepherd's manipulation of the information and communication networks was practically complete, but not total.

There were still databases, servers filled with the information of the residents on each level; that was what Corday needed to access. Most of the Enforcer offices were currently occupied by Shepherd's Followers. Corday had scouted dozens; the few locations he'd found abandoned were in very hostile regions, the sectors' inner workings picked clean or totally demolished. But after two weeks of dangerous reconnaissance, he got lucky.

In the burned-out husk of a small, mid-level Enforcer station, Corday discovered one minuscule directory office untouched by the riots. The COMscreen functioned and, by some fucking miracle, booted when plugged into a battery.

Working quickly before anyone passing might notice his presence, Corday collected the former address of one Claire O'Donnell. Wasting no time, he shut off the valuable resource, tore out the memory cube, and climbed down seven levels to brave the cold neighborhood Claire had called her own.

The Omega had lived too near the slums for her home to ever have been considered safe. Everything was poorly maintained, sandwiched tightly, and painted in a faded wash of color. Her apartment had been ransacked, of course; windows shattered, knickknacks destroyed and anything of value gone. What remained was shoddy furniture and walls of expensive paper books.

In all the
things
taken, few books had been stolen.

The novels she adored had spines distorted by frequent use. Smirking, Corday found her favorites almost cliché, his lip twitching when a dog-eared copy of a pre-Dome romance was in a position of prominence. With careful fingers, he pulled it out and looked at the worn cover.

It was creased, it smelled like soapy vanilla. Returning it, Corday moved into the small space's only bedroom.

Everything was in the shade of robin's egg blue, styled in the simplistic, comfortable atmosphere Omegas required. The bedding still smelled of her, though it looked as if one of the rioters had rolled about in the linen. Taking a seat on the narrow mattress, Corday picked up the family photograph from her bedside table—her parents and Claire when she was just a girl. An Alpha father's hands rested on his little girl's shoulders. Beside them was a woman with a tight smile, a forced expression that tried to convey joy below surrendered eyes.

Claire was the image of her father, the same distinctive looks, the same black hair, but she had her mother's small frame and swanlike quality. She appeared fragile, but Corday knew she was stronger than she seemed.

Setting the photograph back, Corday began to poke through her collection of worthless jewelry even the looters had passed up. Under the lining of the small velvet box he felt the outline of a ring and pulled back the fabric to find a worn gold band.

It was a wedding band; the same one worn by her mother in the photograph.

Without thought, Corday took it so he might return it to Claire. Because he
was going to see her again
. His Omega friend was sneaky and smart; she would find her way. Claire would not end up like the glassy-eyed Omegas the Enforcers had set free, the ones begging for some Alpha to claim them and give them a sense of purpose and relief. No... Claire was different.

She had to be.

#

Claire was unsure how many days had passed, what the hour was, how long she'd slept, or why she was always exhausted when she woke. Shepherd had not returned once since their fight.

There was no one to talk to, no soothing scent. There was nothing to do but obsess about the room and try not to think about how very lonely she was.

She cleaned every surface, going so far as to pull everything out of the dresser and refold each item with sharp corners. Even forcing distraction, more than once she unwittingly allowed her thoughts to circle on the Alpha, tempting her to recall his more pleasing points.

The root of the issue was palpable. Claire wanted him back—his soothing purr, the heat of his body in her nest. Life was muddled by enforced seclusion, off-putting and confusing.

After shutting the last drawer, ready to move on to the bookshelf—what Shepherd had called her
window
—Claire turned and squeaked. A woman was standing behind her, so close they could have been touching.

Green eyes wide at seeing a stranger, Claire stammered, "Hello," wondering for a moment if she had lost her mind and begun hallucinating.

A smile, the lovely, polished, practiced grin of nobility, spread across pink lips. "Hello, pretty."

Claire could smell that the female was not what she seemed. The exotic beauty was an Alpha, but so delicate that the brunette could almost pass for Omega. Backing away, Claire found blue eyes tracking her movement and a small, amused smirk on those lips. "Who are you?"

The coolness of the woman's fingers made Claire instantly pull her head back. It did not stop the smirking woman from tracing her nail over the delicate skin under Claire's jaw. "I am Shepherd's beloved."

That string in her chest, the chain, writhed at those words. Pressing a hand defensively over her belly, Claire choked out, "I am Claire."

"Claire," a wealthy, accented voice drew out the pronunciation of the name.

A glint was in those oval eyes, something unwelcome and treacherous. The Alpha was dangerous, looking at her like a piece of meat, countering each step Claire took backwards until the Omega found herself trapped against the bed.

The intruder purred, "Be still, Omega."

Claire's voice dropped, her shoulders grew stiffer, and she said it again, "My name is Claire."

Pain burst across Claire's face. Pressing her hand to her bleeding lip, she stared in shock at the stranger who'd struck her.

"You're drenched in him." The Alpha female sniffed. "Lie on the bed and spread your legs so I may see."

"I don't know who the fuck you are, but back off!"

There was a tutting sound in the air. "You can obey, or I will have Shepherd force you."

"Then get him to force me... I don't spread just because an Alpha bitch commands it."

Before she might escape, an unyielding hand circled Claire's throat. She was forced back until her knees bent and the Omega's back hit the mattress. Clawing at the grip crushing her windpipe, Claire stared up into the unblinking blue eyes of a killer—what she saw there inspired more fear than she'd ever known.

The woman's hand stroked under Claire's skirt, fingers jamming inside her to swirl painfully around her dry womb. The brunette drew them out and tasted. "You are pregnant. How interesting."

A second hand came to grip Claire's neck. A tighter squeeze and her world began to go dark.

"Svana." It was one word, spoken in a very dangerous tone.

The brunette cocked her head at the man standing in the door.

"My love." Svana smiled. "Your plaything's eyes are the wrong color. My eyes are blue."

"Release the Omega's throat."

With a playful smirk and a quick flourish of her fingers, Svana let Claire go. Coughing, sucking in air, Claire scrambled back, wide eyes looking at Shepherd, looking at the man who, though bonded to her, stood by and did nothing. Everything was wrong, the cord was jangled, and with horror, Claire witnessed total love in the expression Shepherd offered the Alpha female approaching him.

The exotic beauty petted her mate's chest. Svana purred, "I have missed you. Get rid of your toy; I only have a few hours before I must return."

Cupping the woman's face, Shepherd explained, "The Omega is not permitted to leave this room."

Svana shrugged her shoulders. "Then she can join in or watch. What a pity I missed her last cycle; we have not shared a heated Omega in some time."

Shallow pants, that was all Claire could manage as she pressed herself against the wall and realized how truly depraved the man who had hooked an anchor into her chest really was. Now she understood. No chemicals from pregnancy, no pair-bond could change it. She was nothing to Shepherd. She had been manipulated to care for a monster who loved another—to be what the female had insisted: his plaything.

"Claire, you will go into the bathroom and remain until I come for you."

He had spoken her name. Dumbstruck, Claire stared at the two of them, stared as Shepherd—as her mate—touched another female affectionately.

When she made no movement to follow the command, a furious head snapped up and his silver eyes narrowed menacingly. "Go."

She obeyed. Each step felt like walking on glass, but the pain was a blessing, a gift from the goddess of the Omegas. Claire's mind began to clear, the influence of the cord began to weaken, and she began to feel
nothing at all
.

She closed the door behind her and sat alone. Staring the future dead in the face, she knew just what hell looked like.

The sound of the two Alphas fucking was nothing; breathing was nothing. Where she had been slowly settling into life in that little grey room, she was now free of such petty things as further existence. A great crack ran through her chest, a fissure that bled vile, noxious gas into the air while Claire sat there in the dark, the music of evil coming through the door. There was nothing left for the greasy thread to hold on to. There was nothing left inside her... but she was still horribly Claire.

Later, Shepherd woke her where she slept against the wall. He pulled her up and sat her on the lid of the toilet so he could press a wet towel to her split lip. She looked him dead in the eye, a fierce, penetrating, nightmare of a gaze. When he said nothing, she began to laugh at him, loudly, the noise saturated in judgment.

He was pathetic... disgusting. And he was dead to her.

The expression that came was one of confusion—the look a small boy cornered by bullies wears. It was perfect.

A hard voice growled, "Svana is dangerous."

Claire only laughed harder, the hoarse sound ruined by the damage to her throat. She laughed until her face was red, until her insides hurt. She laughed until she had to push past Shepherd and puke in the sink. Standing straight, she wiped her stinging mouth with the back of her hand and, still snickering, walked out of the bathroom and into a room that, if she had any reason to breathe, would have smelled utterly tainted.

It was just four grey walls, every crack known to her—a box with nothing in it.

Her nest was a wreck, so Claire lay down in the middle of the floor and closed her eyes. It almost felt like she was merging with the earth, becoming one with the endless, lifeless room.

It was beautiful.

When she woke it was bright outside, Claire felt it in her bones. She stared at the ceiling imagining the way sunlight must glint off the Dome. She was alone again. Food was on the table waiting for her. Standing she took the plate, carried it to the bathroom, and flushed everything down the toilet. Dropping the vitamin, her lips sounded out the word, "plop," as it fell into the swishing water. The empty plate was returned to the tray and she went right back to her warm outline on the floor. A whole day passed.

The door opened. Her listless eyes found the blue-eyed Beta had come with another tray. The Follower moved past her as if she did not exist.

Devoid of feeling, Claire croaked, "I don't know your name."

Deadpan, he answered, "I'm Jules. Shepherd desires that you do not forget the vitamin."

The empty tray was taken; he walked by without even looking at her.

The door was locked and Claire made sure she followed Shepherd's mandate. She flushed all the food and, unquestionably, did not forget the vitamin. After all, now that she was hollow inside, it was nice to have the grey room to herself. She showered, changed her clothing, brushed her hair... all the things living people were supposed to do. Then she went right back to that spot on the floor to rot.

Inevitably enough time passed. The sound of combat boots thudded against the ground and the devil was crouching over her. A purr sounded and Claire opened her eyes, entirely unimpressed.

She felt nothing.

Shepherd picked her up, her body hanging limp, and took off the fresh dress, putting her in the bed. The sheets must have been changed. Either that or she had lost the pattern of Shepherd's scent. Everything just smelled flat. The man slid in beside her, naked, and eased up close. As he did everything he wanted, taking what she never offered, he pressed his chest to hers and growled.

Nothing.

He spread her legs, growled again, and let his fingers dance between her thighs. Whatever he was doing, Claire only stared at the ceiling, seeing instead the overcast night sky. She did not make a noise when a foreign presence pushed uncomfortably into her unprepared body. She just lay there through all of it, unsure how long he tried, how hard he worked... because she didn't care. An odd stretch let her know that the sweating, grunting thing had knotted.

Still nothing.

While their bodies were locked, she heard the distant sound of a low, raspy voice and ignored it. There were tugs at her hair, the smooth strokes of hands. Claire yawned; sleep was immediate.

#

Walking through the Undercroft where her kind had been locked away, Nona maintained her ramrod spine despite the two large Followers yanking her about. She had not been troubled or questioned for weeks, and wondered what asinine things they would waste her time with now. When the door opened and she was pressed into the room, even she could not hide the quirk in her brow or the sudden feeling of dread when she found it was not the Beta, Jules, who sat at the table.