Reborn (Alpha's Claim Book 3) (5 page)

He purred behind her. “Do not frown, little one.”

Seeing him past the hubris made it so very hard to resist giving him exactly what he wanted, especially when faced with the eagerness in which he offered himself and openly admired what he saw in her. Unless she stopped and drew back, unless she gave up her mission to open his eyes, she was going to feel... more than empathy or compassion.

Maybe she already did.

Claire had worried over it, fallen into brooding silences, and found herself more than once asking for the room with the window where she could seek distraction. Shepherd tended to comply with her vocalized desires, would sit with her as Claire did as she pleased—played the piano, stared out over her vast snowy landscape, painted in the sunlight—whatever she wanted. And he would remain attentive and watchful, his side of the bond wide open, Shepherd practically yanking on the link to draw her emotionally nearer.

He was the one making her toil, making her starve, and making her move. And all he had to do was sit there and wait as her own nature worked on her.

It wasn’t fair.

“Shepherd,” Claire said, turning mournful eyes away from the glass to glance at him over her shoulder. “I am tired.”

He knew she was not referring to physical exhaustion. “I know you are.”

“I’m not very good at this.”

“You are improving daily.”

She sighed, partially unconcerned they were discussing their long running personal war as if it were openly acknowledged between them. “Are you tired, Shepherd?”

Lounging back in the comfortable chair like a king on his throne, he shook his head. “No. I am the opposite.”

Narrowing her eyes, Claire fought the overwhelming urge to kick him in the shin. Feeling the need to knock him down a peg, she coolly reminded, “On the ice, I told you an apology would not make any difference.” Squaring to face him, feeling something unpleasant surge in her gut, she tried to make him toil, starve, and move. “I want one now.”

He was somewhat surprised, slowly standing from his chair, towering over her.

When it seemed he was only going to loom, Claire chose to walk away, but Shepherd began to lower and the anger all but fell off her face.

He got on his knees.

They were almost eye to eye when Shepherd said, “Claire O’Donnell, I am sorry.”

“Gods dammit,” Clare snarled under her breath, moving past him to flop back into the oversized chair, confident she’d lost another battle.

Swiveling, he faced her and leaned over, caging her with his arms. “Did I not grovel properly?”

A slight tick came to the corner of her lips. “Would you have knelt on the ice?”

He shifted enough that his torso parted her knees. Shepherd smiled at her while he warned wickedly, “Little one, you are in my chair.”

“What happened to the whole Shepherd philosophy of take what you want? I wanted it, I took it. It’s my chair now,” Claire quipped. A second later, she realized she was practically flirting.

Confusion weakened her smirk.

Shepherd started purring, his big hands kneading the muscles atop her thighs.

Closing her eyes and leaning back, Claire let out a shaky breath. “Maryanne was right. I have it better than everyone else in Thólos. I am kept warm. I eat great food. You have created an alternate reality for me filled with distractions, including time with my friend whom I know you dislike, and pictures of the people I care about so I won’t worry over them.”

Shepherd grunted. “You did not make a point in your statement.”

Dark lashes lifted and Claire looked at the man whose face hovered so near her own. “Do you have any idea how hard it is for an Omega to ignore the call of her Alpha? It’s torture. It physically makes one feel as if their skin is peeling off. Then there is the fear, not only of the searching mate but of oneself. You hear things... there are tactile hallucinations. Your mind rebels against your wishes. You become powerless.”

Heartbreak lay in her eyes. “The first time I escaped I would have sworn you were watching me from every shadow. I woke screaming each night. Every time you weren’t there, I felt betrayed, even though I had run from you. My second lapse of freedom, I wandered Thólos and felt nothing. There was no pain, there were no dreams. I was empty—that in its own way was hell. But, day in and day out, I was searching for something, and every day I would get a little closer to the Citadel.” Claire shook her head as the truth had only just dawned on her. “I did not even realize that until now.”

Shepherd’s eyes were glowing as he soaked in every word like it was vital, so still it would have frightened her in the early days.

Claire touched a slightly puckered scar on his cheek. “I cannot paint this expression. That right there is the enigma, isn’t it?”

Shepherd wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her to the end of the seat so their bodies could be flush. “Tell me more, little one. I want to hear more.”

There was one more thing she could say that would affect him.

“I can’t live like this.” She studied his eyes, trying to capture the image in her mind. “I need to go outside. I need to taste fresh air.”

“No.” Shepherd let her go, stood, and moved away, dismissing the conversation, leaving her disappointed and awkward.

Already pulling out the handcuff, he waited near the door, silently signaling their time in the room was at an end.

“I give you my word I won’t try to escape,” she offered softly, seeing his head fractionally turn her way at the confession. “There are too many lives at stake.”

Cocking his head, he asked, “Is that the only reason you would stay?”

All warfare is based on deception. –Sun Tzu

Fisting her hands in her skirt, Claire stood and went to him so he might chain her. “No, it’s not the only reason.”

Shepherd watched her hold out her wrist for him, the man reached out a hand to ever so softly run the back of his fingers over her delicate skin.

While she stood obediently, he spoke again, pocketing the handcuff and leaving her arm free. “You are asking for my trust when you have not earned it.”

Claire did not so much as blink an eye. “You ask me for the same thing daily.”

His Omega’s cheeks were pink and lovely from her exertion trying to match his larger steps, but it was the flatness of her eyes Shepherd did not like. They turned another corner, walking down the hall that led to his quarters, no soul in sight, as he had ordered all his men to vacate the halls so his Omega would be left alone.

There was no handcuff between them, an act Shepherd felt deserved a great reward, but Claire seemed to not recognize his generosity on the topic. She’d hardly even looked around, not that there was much to see.

She was so unhappy...

His mate reminded him of a fish in a bowl, staring vacantly at a world she would never be able to breathe in. It was clear from her end of the link that there was no pleasure in it for her, that the walk was unwelcome—that she felt more trapped without the chain than she had felt for weeks locked away in his den.

He wondered if she was punishing herself again, if that was what made her cling to his arm when she was miserable. Or, if it was some test. Shepherd did not ask. Instead he stayed close, looking over his domain, measuring what might be a threat, what waited around every corner, observing those stark halls in a tactical way she never could.

But this walk was not working. He pulled her another direction, and punched a code into a steel door. It opened, and though there was no sky or view, icy wind blasted their way.

The armed soldiers at the portal kept their heads forward once they realized who’d come. Claire went to step out, to pass through the tunnel to see where the breeze was coming from.

Shepherd did not allow her move. “I cannot guarantee your safety outside right now, little one. Breath your air, feel the cold, enjoy what you can before I must return you to our nest.”

She had not expected him to even partially concede to her request, not after feeling the swell of unease that rolled through the male when she’d told him she needed to go outside. Shepherd was too determined to keep her quarantined underground.

Leaning as far forward as his great arm would allow, Claire had a slender glimpse of a city blown away on the wind, all of her ideals made into some mockery with the stink of dead bodies, of smoke wafting her way. Thólos had grown so much harder to comprehend. A part of her had begun to resent it, and at moments like those—moments when Shepherd’s feelings somehow mingled with hers—Claire struggled to remind herself that she loved the city she could barely glimpse down the passageway.

Abiding disgust for what she’d seen, run from, feared... not all of it was Shepherd’s influence. It came from her.

It shamed her.

Her memories of happier times were growing tarnished. She was finding flaws in them—almost as if Shepherd were whispering in her ear the darker things she’d endured and refused to acknowledge. Thólos had been dangerous her whole life. She’d hardly felt safe walking the street alone, even in broad daylight... because the city had teeth and claws.

No one had talked about it, but Omegas out in the open had always been snatched up by predators. Thólos’s rich and powerful... the ones who made the rules… taking without permission, pretending it was all civilized, all acceptable. After all, who on earth had the power to stand up to the Senators, the Enforcers, the Judges?

Shepherd was right. She had never once been free.

Even in civilized Thólos, her life had been one of perpetually hiding what she was. And what of the Betas? Had they felt the pinch? Had they been tired of proletarian toil? Had they suffered oppression?

Alphas too had fallen victim. Claire’s own father had lost all social standing with the suicide of his wife. Before the body was even cold in the ground, the government had ordered them to leave her childhood home and move to a neighborhood just above the Lower Reaches—Claire’s father publically condemned as failure undeserving of midlevel life.

That new home had been damp and cramped. On the rare warm days, the air outside had stunk of garbage. Her father had weathered it with a smile and constant jokes. He had done everything for her, as if he’d suspected she was Omega long before puberty confirmed it—and was trying to atone.

Never once had he told her not to use the soaps that made his daughter smell like a Beta. He’d paid for her pills without asking her what they were for, made sure she had all the time she wanted with Nona.

Based on his personal experience, her father had known the world was unsafe for her, and he had done his best.

He’d known Thólos was miserable and bad, and shielded her from all of it long before Shepherd’s targeted campaign had turned the city against itself.

Her mate said what no other Alpha would dare. He’d called the leadership deceivers, the citizens swallowing every word…

It made them worse still. Thólosens chose to bow and cede to his will out of fear, not because they took his words as gospel. It was because they were bad. Why else would they use the new paradigm to riot, rape, murder, indulging in the darkest parts of the human experience?

Shepherd had once said that it was not his Followers responsible for the violence. If Claire was willing to admit the truth, even she had never seen them do evil on the streets. No, their evil had been openly conducted at the Citadel. It had been her neighbors —like Mr. Nelson who she’d seen stealing from her apartment. It had been her mentors like Senator Kantor, in charge of the resistance but doing nothing.

It had been Premier Callas throwing women into the Undercroft.

Claire’s free hand absently slipped to rest atop her belly, a poor shield over her son as if to protect him from her personal agenda, the wasteland, and her darker thoughts.

Everything was going to get worse.

“You’re just one man.” Troubled, Claire looked up and met Shepherd’s eyes. “There are millions under the Dome. Desperate people transform. Soon they won’t be afraid of your virus. It’s only a matter of time before they come for you.”

Shepherd took in her hand on their child, the blankness of her expression, and knew what she was thinking.

He scowled deeply.

Internally the Omega was a jangled mess, yet outside Claire remained placid, her face emotionless, and Shepherd greatly disliked it. He’d rather she cry and purge, than remain blank… reinforcing her misgivings. His mouthy, strong Omega was poisoning herself.

Shepherd called an end to their stroll. He swept her into his arms. She didn’t complain, she didn’t notice. Even marching her back into their room, where Claire was safe in a familiar place did not alter the flatness.

Food was brought; she didn’t want to eat.

He purred; she stared into space.

Where was his thank you? Where was his reward? She should have been content, praising him… humming! Why was she being difficult again?

Instead, the Omega began pacing like she used to, fretting and wringing her hands. And then she did something that pushed him beyond the pale. Claire lay down on the floor, nonverbally refusing their bed, frowning as her eyes traced the cracks in the ceiling.

The seething mountain had had enough. Standing over her, Shepherd ordered, “If you wish for rest, you will rest in our nest.” He then pulled off his shirt, holding it out so she might get up and place it accordingly, giving her one last chance to act on her own.

Claire waved a hand at him and made a snorting sound.

He nudged her with his toe, eyes narrowed, growl deep. “Get up.”

Claire shook her head and spread out further on the floor.

He’d drag her to the nest if he had to, break her of such behavior. Leaning down, preparing to tug her up, Shepherd put his face in her line of sight. “Get. Up.”

Claire planted her foot right on his chest and pressed him away, hissing, “Piss. Off.”

The male froze, eyes flared in furious disbelief she’d had the audacity to physically challenge him, to look at him with such eyes... to hum out of tune on her end of their bond even though he’d given her what she wanted.

A meaty fist wrapped around her ankle. Claire showed her teeth, and that was all it took to push the monster to react. She yipped when he yanked her leg, the Alpha falling upon her so fucking fast the Omega never stood a chance of escape. Twisting until he contained her, he
toyed
with his food
. Allowing Claire to wiggle and slip, Shepherd made a mockery of her strength, so that she might find how utterly useless such resistance was.

Claire wrestled with every ounce of old anger. Grunting and hissing, freeing an arm only to lose its mobility a second later, kicking a leg that was pinned in a heartbeat. Hardly aware, her nose went to his neck. Out of nowhere she groaned lowly, the strange burning thing inside her growing more satisfied by the struggle. When he moved again, when the rippling bunching flesh shifted, Claire got her arm free and instead of clawing her way out, she found her fingertips running from the hollow of Shepherd’s throat down his defined torso, the Alpha arching immediately into her touch, his ribcage expanding in a great breath.

When Claire stretched just enough to mouth the mark she had made on his shoulder, Shepherd growled in absolutely violent bliss.

Nails raking harshly down the male’s hard stomach, she made an impatient squeak, her voice thick with frustration, and the one thing he always craved from her, need.

“Shepherd.” Arching up so her mouth rested against his ear, Claire’s voice thick and filthy, animalistic and dark, growled in a maddeningly filthy lure, “Help me.”

With a roar, one huge hand roughly rolled her under him face down upon the concrete, and yanked her body until her saturated sex was flush with the massive erection confined painfully in his pants.

Breathing hard under a vibrating mountain of muscle, Claire could hardly register the feeling of her skirt being tugged up, or the sound of a zipper breaking before a punishingly hard thrust filled her to the brim. Shepherd snaked his arm under her torso, gripped her by the front of the throat, and understanding dawned. His Omega felt weak from her loss of the war. She needed him to prove he was stronger—strong enough for both of them. That was their way... a relic from the Undercroft he’d taught her.

“Scream all you want. Fight me.” Shepherd licked his lips and eyed her jerking body each time he forcefully fucked into her slippery pussy. “You won’t win.” A thumb swiped over her pulsing carotid artery. “You want to be conquered by your mate. Constrained submission calms you when you rage—when you feel lost and confused.”

Compressed as she was, slippery and scented, Shepherd shoved in hard when she snarled, relishing the ooze of more Omega fluid and the wet music he created over the sounds of her purging anger. He began to describe the tight feeling of her cunt, how it was his to satisfy, how he would fill her and she would relish every last drop of his come, even if she fought—because he knew what she needed, and as her mate, he would give it to her.

The Alpha’s voice was so saturated in guttural possessiveness, in greed, in the arrogant confidence that she was his to dominate; it sickeningly only made her want more. Each pounding thrust was angled to mercilessly bring friction at that raw craving inside her. The rapid smack of his balls against her, the slight burn from such a stretch, the intoxicating sounds of his loud, vicious grunts, and the almost too tight pressure of his fingers gripping her throat, fueled her urge to clench around him.

She shuddered, felt the walls of her cunt tighten like a fist, all the while ranting out a long list of venomous nastiness. Claire blamed him for her torment, for the deaths of her friends, for all the darkness in the world. It only made him more animal, dangerously savage as he constrained her and conquered, doing exactly what he threatened to do—jamming himself deeper, filling her to the point it scraped her warring emotions blank—transforming her insides to the point that Claire began sobbing out his name over and over, begging him to stop, begging him to fuck her harder, begging for something she could not name. Her pussy seized in an overburdened release. The knot was shoved deep, she screamed into the floor, and the male roared so loud at her ear it added an edge of fear to her bursting relief, extending Claire’s frenzy and making her squeal.

It was not until his meaty hand on her throat loosened its grip that Claire began to feel the end of her wild, shattering climax. Soothing fluid was pumped so perfectly inside her, her body greedily taking it all while her Alpha whined low in his throat with each extended gush.

He was crushing her, her face mashed into the ground, his panting form seemingly content to continue to hold her trapped. Claire could not move, she could hardly breathe, yet his loud labored gasps were music, pressing calm to replace exercised rage.

She began to hum brokenly between pants. Shepherd stretched, rubbing his sweaty skin against her as he began to purr in praise to her perfect response to his domination.

Knowing to offer comfort after such a savage mating, his weight shifted so he might turn them side by side. Locked deep in his mate, knotted, and supporting the exhausted woman in his arms, Shepherd began to pleasure her gently with his hand—rubbing the labia stretched around his shaft, circling her clitoris, enjoying her twitching with each soft pluck.

Claire did not understand what he was doing, Shepherd never having fingered her in such a way when they were fused. Melting, still so sensitive, she tried to push his hand away, but he hushed her and continued to give soft pleasure that built up into an easy cresting wave of warmth. Still full of him, stretched and possessed by the knot, she gave herself over, drowning in what he offered.