Born to Be Bound (18 page)

Even seated, the Alpha was massive.

"She seems to think standing as you do serves a purpose as well. But you are still Omega and you know that resistance to one such as I is pointless," Shepherd explained, his voice conversational, though the nature of his expression was anything but pleasant.

Nona took a seat without being asked, old enough to know better than to engage male taunts.

The man began. "You are the de facto leader of this Omega pack—"

Nona interjected, "I am not. We function as a democracy."

"How have you found the provided accommodations?"

"Prison-like," Nona answered, watching him just as callously as he watched her.

Shepherd was not impressed with her bravado. "I have supplied you with clean water, wholesome food, warm blankets, shelter..."

"Your rationalization is faulty." Nona tapped the desk. "All those comforts are only to prepare the Omegas for slavery to a stranger."

"You are the one who corrupted her into thinking the way she does."

Now that was interesting. Cocking her head, Nona asked, "Excuse me?"

"Of the eight Omegas pair-bonded since arrival into my keeping, all have accepted their place—behaving as they should."

It was foolish to smile, one good swing and he could rip her head off her shoulders, but Nona allowed the expression. There was a catch to his statement, an underlying irritation that exposed his own less than perfect relationship. "There is nothing I can tell you that would make Claire be what she is not. I have droned on for hours about the foods I know she likes, her hobbies... all questions you could have asked her yourself."

"Your only use to me, old woman, is information that will help settle my mate." Contemplating how easily he could crush the old woman's throat, Shepherd warned, "Do not think to posture or advise."

"Then get to the point."

The slight flaring of his silver eyes, the sudden stink of hostility—he was far less steady in his aloofness than he pretended. "I am beginning to suspect you have outlived your usefulness. There is room for your body to swing next to the other Omegas."

"If there is something wrong with Claire, I would do anything to help her," Nona argued, more than happy to honestly express her anger. "Whatever insight you seek, just ask."

"My mate has grown withdrawn."

Scowling, Nona wondered how the hell he could possibly be surprised. With her lips in a line, she waited for the man to continue.

Shepherd leaned nearer, barking, "Are you going to say nothing?"

"I am unsure what you expect me to say," Nona maintained. "That is not a word I have ever heard used to describe Claire. She is usually quite vocal. Whatever she is now, you have created in your treatment of her."

"At the separate deaths of her parents, what drew her out of her melancholy?"

"Time, and the support of people she loved."

It was clear the answer was unacceptable, that the giant had reached the end of his patience.

The man made her sick and the sentiment was obvious in Nona's accusation. "Do you behave this way with her, as well? She won't respond to it," she said.

"I am very careful with Claire."

Something in his words made her feel he was lying, or that he was careful in the way one holds a newborn kitten—an unnatural way to behave with a mate. Sniffing the air, leaning forward to make her appraisal obvious, Nona found very little of Claire's scent on the man. "And you have studied her like a specimen, with information gathered from outside sources. Why? To manipulate the situation to your liking?"

"Of course."

"Apparently your strategy has failed." That was it. "There is nothing I can say to help you, Alpha."

Shepherd's glare threatened torment. "There will be no food for any Omega over the next three days. All will be notified that you were the cause of starvation."

#

How funny the world was. Everything was in reverse. Claire sat in a chair, her head resting atop her palm, while Shepherd was the one pacing. Back and forth, back and forth; he was like an agitated dinosaur. Claire made a noise.

The great hulk stopped and looked at her. He spoke.

She heard nothing.

Her thin fingers began to drum against the table. And again the beast prowled. Eventually he tugged her up, as he had done with every visit, and he took her dress. It was the same; the mattress at her back, his useless growl, and then whatever tricks he had thought up to seduce her body. Shepherd thought to be clever, smoothing a great portion of lubricant on his jutting cock before he began the rut. He thrust this way and that way, just like his disturbed pacing. He tried everything to get a response, even trying to coax a kiss from her slack lips, to whisper in her ear, to caress and stare into eyes that were far away.

"Little one, come back."

She would never come back. Not to him. Not to the beast who had made her want him once and betrayed her so thoroughly.

Claire fell asleep while Shepherd was still moving inside her.

Eventually the Alpha figured out what she was doing with the meals delivered while he was away. Not that it was hard to discover when she did not even look at the food he brought her. His mate was growing wan, dark circles under her eyes, and no matter what he pushed between her lips, she would not swallow. She would only stare with those dead eyes, stare straight at him, daring him to try and make her eat.

As he slammed his hand on the table, the metal groaned. Claire stared right back, and lazily spat out everything in her mouth, letting it fall into her lap. There was a roar, the entirety of her tray thrown across the room to slam against the wall. A paw wrenched her from the chair; a blanket wrapped too tight around her. Shepherd had her in his arms. The metal was thrown back, her concrete walls disappeared. They passed a fire extinguisher she had seen before, a blue door, a room full of COMmonitors; only that time there were men in the room, men in the halls—Followers saluting the giant who ignored them as he stormed past.

The sound of boots on concrete stairs, grunted orders Claire ignored, and a door opened to blasting cold. Atmosphere, fresh air... she'd seen such things lying on the floor staring through the ceiling; it was nothing special. Claire closed her eyes.

Shepherd was having none of it. Great arms shook her, jarring her body until her eyes opened. He set her down on her feet and backed away so that she had to stand on her own. Claire did, knowing something that no other man on that terrace knew. A mind could learn entirely new things almost instantly when it was utterly devoid, eyes saw minutiae that thinking minds missed. She stood on her own two feet and looked up at the snowing sky... feeling the large white flakes melt on her cheeks.

Snow that thick was a sign the Dome had been damaged, the arctic creeping in. The engineers responsible for colonial safety had failed.

Hadn't they all failed?

Seeing her stand, the beast drew a relieved breath behind her.

No one could have known what she was going to do. Not one of them could have suspected it. Under the pretense of a yawn, Claire cracked her neck, and rolled her shoulders in a way that loosened the blanket. Then, in a burst of speed, she darted like a hare and bound over the edge of the Citadel terrace to fall into darkness before any could reach her.

The inertia of limp bodies absorbed force far differently than stiff flailing ones; Claire knew that. What she didn't know was that even high fluffy piles of snow really, really hurt when you jumped off a building to land in one.

There was a general outcry above her, but the fresh powder sucked her in, hiding her long enough to slip down an icy corridor only someone as small as an Omega could fit through. Then she did what she did best. Claire ran.

From above, it looked as if she had simply vanished. Since she was already dead inside, she may as well have.

End of Book One…

Did you enjoy ‘Born to be Bound’? Here's a snippet of the first chapter of book two in the series…

Born to be Broken: Alpha’s Claim, Book Two

Chapter 1

By the time she'd found his home, Claire could little more than crawl. Scratching at the portal, her fingers numb, she slumped to the floor. When the door cracked and squinted eyes appeared in the dark, had she the capacity, she would have laughed. Never had a man looked more shocked.

She was filthy, her stringy hair wet from snow and sweat, limbs badly scraped from her fall. About her throat, a bruise tellingly shaped like a handprint circled like a sad necklace. That was nothing compared to the state of her feet when he tried to help her stand. Torn and bleeding, more skin had been worn away than was sound. Corday hoisted her from the ground, pressed her freezing body flush to his, and locked the door.

"Claire!" He vigorously rubbed his hands up and down the trembling woman's back. "I have you."

It was a good thing he did; once the door locked, her eyes rolled back in her skull and Claire fell unconscious. Corday rushed her to his shower, cranked up the heat, and stood with her under the spray. Her lips were blue and no wonder, considering that temperatures on this level of the Dome had grown near freezing. The Beta stripped off her ruined dress and washed every rivulet of blood from his friend, finding more bruises, more wounds, more reasons to hate Shepherd.

The gauze at her shoulder he'd left for last, grateful that at least something had been tended to. But as it grew saturated, he became worried by what was hinted at under the bandage. Peeling it back, Corday cursed to see what the beast had done to her. Shepherd's claiming marks, the tissue red and distorted—even after what looked like weeks of healing, her shoulder was a fucking mess.

The monster had mutilated her.

The water turned as cold as Corday's blood. He pulled her out, dried her the best he could, and tucked Claire into the warmth of his bed. There she lay, naked and badly damaged, a little color coming back to her hollow cheeks. One at a time, he uncovered her limbs, tending scrapes, bandaging wounds, doing his best to preserve her modesty. That didn't mean he didn't see them, the telling bruises mottling her inner thighs.

She looked almost as bad as the Omegas the resistance had rescued...

It frightened him. Not one of those women was thriving. Even in safety they were deteriorating—hardly spoke, hardly ate. More of them had died, and though the Enforcers could not pinpoint the cause, Brigadier Dane was certain that with all that they'd suffered—the children and mates that had been taken from them—they had simply lost the will to live.

Claire had to be different.

Left arm, right arm, both elbows sluggishly bled. Salve and bandages was the best Corday could offer. But there was nothing he could do for her throat; the mottled yellow-brown bruises were not fresh. The Omega's injuries grew far more complicated with her legs; both kneecaps were grotesque with one gash deep enough to require stitches. He did his best with butterfly sutures, closing the gap of torn flesh, lining up the skin so that it might stand a chance of mending. Her joints would swell—that was unavoidable—and he hesitated to ice them, as she was already shivering and still cold to the touch.

"You're gonna be okay, Claire," he promised. "You're safe with me."

Claire opened bloodshot eyes; she looked at the Beta whose face she could read like a book. He was scared for her. "It doesn't hurt."

"Shhh." He leaned down, smiling to see her awake. Stroking wet, tangled hair from her face, he said, "Rest your throat."

She complied, and Corday worked quickly to finish, disinfecting every abrasion on her outer thighs, knees, and shins. Her feet were a different matter. There was little he could do, and she would hardly be able to walk in the days to come. He picked out the detritus, noting how she didn't move or twitch, even when a fresh wave of blood followed a large chunk of glass he pulled free. He wrapped her feet tight, and said a prayer to all three gods that the open wounds would not fester.

Once it looked like she was asleep, he rose.

Claire's hand shot out, her bruised fingers clawing into his sleeve. "Don't go!"

"You need medicine," Corday soothed, weaving his fingers with hers.

She held tighter, disjointed and afraid. "Don't leave me alone."

Brushing a pile of bandage wrappers to the floor, Corday did as she wished. He slipped under the covers beside her, offering body heat and a safe place to rest. Claire let him hold her, laying her head on his shoulder, still.

Ashamed to ask, beyond pathetic, she whispered, "Will you purr for me?"

Such a thing was an act of intimacy between lovers and family, but there was no hesitation in the Beta. Corday pulled in a deep breath and started the rumbling vibration at once. The sound was a little off—the act being something he was unaccustomed to—and though it lacked the richness of an Alpha purr, it was infinitely comforting in that moment.

"That's nice." Exhausted, Claire sighed. "Please don't stop."

Corday thumbed a spilling tear from her cheek. "I won't, Claire."

In the voice of a broken thing, Claire began to feel more than endless choking malaise; she felt disgust... for herself. "I hate that name."

#

Huddled close to her friend, like children whispering secrets, Claire woke. Though her body ached, she was warm, surrounded in a scent of safety, and grateful for the boyish smile Corday offered once she'd pried her sticky lashes apart.

Cautious and gentle, he smoothed her tangled hair. "You look much better."

They were so close she could see the night's stubble on his cheek, smell his breath.

He seemed so real.

Sucking her split lower lip into her mouth, she felt the sting. Tasting the scab left when that woman, Svana, had struck her for refusing to spread, made the nightmare real again. It was as if Svana were in the room with her, as if the Alpha's hands remained wrapped around her throat.

Claire struggled to breathe.