Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 52262 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 261(@200wpm)___ 209(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52262 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 261(@200wpm)___ 209(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
Claire's throat could only offer a silent scream, her agony ignored as he ferociously tightened his jaw. With her trapped by his massive knot there was no escape, made worse when her pussy spasmed and blended pleasure into the pain with each spurt of hot come the Alpha dumped inside her.
The Omega was sobbing when it was finished, bleeding badly, and so overcome that she no longer knew where she was.
"Shhh," he whispered, licking at the running blood, hushing her gently while she wept. He gave her the purr she'd wanted, petting and stroking, his lips at her ear. "Now you may sleep, little one."
Everything had been too much. Too much fear, too much heartache, too much anger, too much desire. Overwhelmed, Claire closed her eyes and gave over to the thing her body needed most. Shepherd tucked her limp arms into the sleeves of his coat. Hitching her about his waist, his knot still joining them, he walked out the door, her naked body and their joining covered by the drape of worn leather.
Outside the waste facility, the Omegas were being herded onto transport prepared to take them to Undercroft; a few snarling, others screaming, but the majority simply scarfing down supplement bars his Followers were passing out.
Claire missed it all in her dead slumber.
Chapter 7
Claire felt no warm haze, no fulfilling sense of contentment upon waking. Instead, a deep-seated ache drew her brows tight, only growing worse when she shifted. Someone had run her over with a transport rig, wrung her out... left her wasted. Confused, her lashes parted, and Claire saw nothing but subterranean gloom and walls of concrete.
It was the smell that brought it all together, the nest of familiar, soft blankets rich with the scent of her mate.
Not mate... Claire had to remind herself. Shepherd.
She hated that his stink offered reassurance in her discomfort, that the thread was humming delightedly, telling her it was okay to feel weak so long as he was nearby to watch over her... that everything was back as it should be. The worm pulsed and grew warm in her chest. It was that manipulative pair-bond which had distorted her in the first place. Shepherd's influence, which had broken her apart day after day when she ignored her mate's call to return, which had led to exhaustion and hallucinations. Now it was writhing in contentment, spinning a web of the seductive lie of shelter and safety.
It seemed stronger than before, that cord humming between them felt tighter in her chest. Was it because of his total victory over her? Or maybe because she had stumbled straight to him in her craving for sleep. Claire didn't know. All she knew was that her struggles, her denial and stubbornness, had been for nothing.
They were bound; even in her hiding he'd exercised control.
That grey walled room was not shelter; it was her prison. Shepherd had her in his cage, she was back under his thumb... and she would probably never leave that room again.
Swallowing down distress, Claire recognized his great weight dipping the mattress at her side, her thigh flush to his back as if she'd pressed near while she slept. Shepherd was facing the wall, his elbows on his knees, staring forward, lost in thought.
Licking dry lips, Claire thought to scoot away, only to fall back to the pillows with a curse. The pain was great, shooting from her shoulder so sharply it was all she could do to breathe.
The broad expanse of bare muscled back rippled, Shepherd turning his head to look at the recaptured woman. His silver eyes were blank, the Alpha's air not one of impending punishment, nor was it one of offered comfort. He seemed static, yet those mercurial eyes were watching her as if she were troublesome and easy to crush.
Abashed by such an expression, Claire glanced away, her attention turning to the blood-soaked gauze at her shoulder. Unsure why she felt guilty under his appraisal, why she was tempted to apologize, she focused on the task of peeking under the bandage. What she found almost made her retch. The wound may have been cleaned and dressed at some point while she slept, but it was an oozing, sluggishly bleeding mess, swollen and bruised and utterly disgusting.
No wonder it hurt so badly. Shepherd had maimed her.
He reached out a hand, pulling back the gauze to see the bite mark for himself. He seemed pleased. "That will scar nicely."
It would scar horribly... twenty times worse than the last mark he'd made.
Unforgiving silver eyes bore down on the woman, watching as she pressed back the dressing and tried to calm her breath. "Perhaps now you will remember that you have a mate," he said.
Tired of intimidation and fear and silence, she forced her body to sit up. Ignoring the agony of an unresponsive arm, her green eyes flared, her small hand covering the dressing as if to shield it from him. Appalled, she growled, "You will not be punished? Then what is this? How would you like it if I tore a chunk out of you?"