Born to be Bound: A Darkverse Romance Novel (Alpha’s Claim Book 1)
Born to be Bound: Chapter 9

As they stood on the terrace, Claire suffered the first stirrings, the first warning sign it was time to fight estrous. A wave of warmth banished the cold, the blanket around her became uncomfortably hot, itchy… she tried to hide it. Her attempt to feign normalcy made no difference; Shepherd sensed the change at once. Without a word, she was lifted and swiftly carried back to her cage. Once the door was locked, she scampered off, forcing space between them, where she began pacing back and forth. Her march continued for hours; her stomach sour, her mood foul. The male seemed content to let her wring her hands and pace to and fro, noting she refused to even glance in the direction of the provided nesting materials, or at the table full of food prepared to see him through what might be a lengthy seclusion.

The knots in her gut twinged and soon she was breathing hard, pressing her hand to her belly, worried what his drugs were doing to a body nowhere near ready to ovulate.

A calming, muted voice came from the corner. ‘The discomfort will pass. There will be no long-term damage.’

Claire threw the unwelcome presence a long, vicious growl, hating how he spoke as if he could read her mind. He ignored her disrespect; merely sitting like a gargoyle too big for his chair.

It was infuriating.

She wanted him to leave the room, unaccustomed to being near a male in those uncomfortable moments of pre-estrous. Forcing herself to ignore the intruder, Claire employed a catalog of tricks she’d learned over the years, small distractions that might ease the madness. Feverish, she found her hands in her hair. She braided her locks, paced, unbraided, breathed—over and over. The delicious smell in the air—the scent of a far too near Alpha—she pretended was something else; orange blossoms from the orchards her dad loved to visit. Every summer of her childhood, he’d purchased family admission to the highest level of the Gallery Tower so she could play in the dirt as little girls had once played before humanity retreated under glass for survival.

Each precious weekend had cost her father a month’s wages.

Needing to crack her neck, her bones growing looser, Claire absently rolled her damaged shoulder. Instant pain stopped all movement. She’d forgotten. Looking down at the bandage, she trilled her fingers over the gauze; it hurt much less. Muted pain receptors signaled that full estrous was almost at hand.

Fear sharpened a clouding mind. Claire forced more thoughts of orange blossoms, ignored the need to pop joints, and tugged at her hair.

But time marched just as she did. Movements that had begun in a brooding, stiff cadence grew into something languid. Frustration spiked, diminished, leveled. And no matter how hard she tried to concentrate, her thoughts grew muddled.

At the sound of a purr, Claire began absently humming. Something soft came under her touch. Bedding, all fluffy, all new, lay in her arms. Once she realized she had mindlessly begun organizing the nest she dropped it all, scattering the temptation, and stumbled back as if burned.

Shepherd chuckled. ‘You are doing fairly well, little one, but you will not last much longer.’

Her head turned slowly toward the unwanted presence. Finding Shepherd naked, Claire’s thought process slammed to a stop, her attention drawn to the bulging grandeur of his stiff cock.

Green eyes began to dilate.

The Omega had endured remarkably. She had denied and ignored him with a will deserving admiration. But there would be no more time wasted. Based on her behavior, Claire’s reaction to the injection was stronger than predicted, her temper and outright aggression almost cute as she fell further in. Shepherd had found himself watching, hypnotized, as she sang under her breath and muttered about fields of orange trees.

‘Come to me,’ he beckoned gently. ‘Let’s end the charade. Allow your mate to tend to you.’

She spat, measuring him as if she were the greater dynamic, ‘What, so I can kneel at your feet, Alpha? No!’

When the beast began to stand, to look at her as one looks at prey, the angry Omega stood her ground, showing teeth.

As he approached, she held her breath, determined to make a point that she could resist his scent and presence. Claire could prevail.

Shepherd went to his knees, purring beautifully and stroking her hips. His nose found the apex of her thighs, the heat of his breath hypnotic. ‘Is this what you wish, for me to kneel to you?’

His nearness exacerbated the internal chemical issue she had been fighting so well. Watching him, knowing he had approached, had knelt, to further his agenda, Claire whimpered. Standing rigid and uncomfortable, she fought the urge to touch him so hard, her muscles shook.

‘Your eyes look very beautiful this way, little one,’ Shepherd crooned, mesmerized by the green irises slowly conquered by the encroaching black of her pupils.

He was not holding her, she could just walk away; one step, then another—it would be simple. Instead she grimaced, feeling that first sharp cramp of estrous slick. He smelled it at once and silver eyes flared. Rising with a flowing grace, Shepherd rubbed against her, pulling her dress in a swish of fabric over her head.

From the Alpha’s chest came a demanding growl, the male relishing the way his mate’s body doubled over at his call. For hours he had controlled his need to posture and pace so that she could have her short-lived victory; he had tested himself instead of descending into the rut and forcing her along. Now slick openly dripped down her legs; now every fiber of his being needed to fuck her.

Shepherd wrapped a hand around the scruff of Claire’s neck and pressed her lower. Fisting his cock, he rubbed the head of his manhood against her lips, spreading the heady fluid created to entice her into the frenzy. She stiffened, panted, the tip of her tongue flicking out against her will.

Swallowing, she keened.

‘Is it not better when you don’t fight what you are?’ he asked, smoothing her black hair to expose hollowed cheeks to his view, hungry to watch her suck at his cock.

For a moment Claire remembered herself. On her knees, debased before him, Shepherd’s cock slipped out of her lips and she looked as if she might weep. ‘What you have done is wrong.’

The pads of his fingers burrowed against her scalp. ‘I am giving you life.’

Unable to stop running her nose over the heat of his groin, she panted, ‘I already had a life; you destroyed it.’

Feeling the fury, lust, and vehemence blend with wretched need, Claire clawed her way up his body. Dilated eyes wide and burning, she growled at the male. The noise had hardly left her throat before Shepherd spun her about and pressed her back into the mattress.

Arched, struggling to sheath the mountain cramming his throbbing cock into the pussy that wept for him, Claire entered full estrous. The cord was plucked to harmony, her insides eager for that first true sip of what her pair-bonded mate promised to give. Shepherd hooked her legs over his arms, allowed her to scratch and cling as he attacked, ramming fast and deep, staring into blown pupils while his little one howled.

He had enjoyed her during the Omega’s first heat, but something was far more fulfilling in this second estrous cycle. Shepherd was as high on her pheromones as she was on his, knotting her with shouted roars each time her pussy clamped down and wrung his cock for fluids. Words were spoken they could hardly remember, shrieks of ecstasy and feral violence. Claire was so much stronger than before—nothing compared to him, of course, but she had no reservations about attacking if he did not please her. And Shepherd loved it, loved how he had to pin her down, secure viciousness, and overtake his prey.

Claire slept in spurts, always lying on top of him, no matter how he tried to tuck her against his side. When she woke the first time, she looked down at the mess of blankets and just knew they were all wrong. Shoving at the warm mass in her way, she snarled until it shifted, yanking soft materials out from under the Alpha.

As she designed the nest, the heat of a nearby body lingered at her side. Shepherd sniffed her often, running his fingers through the dripping fluids that ran sluggishly down her thighs, stopping only to hand the Omega pillows or whatever she demanded next. When it was done, Claire pushed him back into what she had built and took what she wanted; a thing she had never done before. Riding his cock at her pace, watching him and relishing the way he eased that horrible internal itch, she came powerfully, loving the look in his eyes when she grinned.

The Omega prowled over him, her black eyes utterly absorbed in his body; it kept him hard for days. When she grew tamer, as the overblown reaction to forced estrous lessened, she would stay still long enough for him to scent her, for his big hands to rub the puddle of come that had leaked out of her womb all over her skin, to feed it to her as he purred and gave affection.

When her high was near its end, Shepherd moved in her gently, his silver eyes watching every tick, seeing that she smiled softly and gasped in pleasure with each thrust. He put his lips on hers.

Even caught in estrous, she repeatedly refused his kiss.

Shepherd found it very displeasing.

With her small, conquered, exhausted, and distracted in orgasm it would be so simple to take… but he needed her to come so he might knot her; he needed her to cry out—because once she did, once he had her fully trapped where she could not resist, he was going to force what was his due.

Eager for his due reward, his hips snapped, he clutched her too tight. Mouth at her ear, Shepherd howled, ‘COME NOW!’

Something in his tone, the absolute command, and Claire spasmed. Eyes rolling back in her head, her climax crashed too soon and too hard. Shepherd’s knot swelled huge behind her pelvic bone, the beast groaning loudly with each gush. With her mouth open in a silent scream, he took advantage. Shackling hands held her in place, as if the female would panic. His rough lips crashed down.

She tried to turn her head, body twisting. No matter how he teased her tongue, how he sucked her lips, Claire would not engage.

Issuing another stream of semen into his Omega, Shepherd lifted his head and found her eyes hooded, distant. Growling, frustrated, he demanded, ‘Kiss me, little one.’

Full lips came again to hers. When Claire locked her teeth, he grabbed her jaw and brought her face back to his. ‘Look at me.’

It was the rough-hewn voice that broke through the haze of orgasm; Shepherd desperate and almost human. She glanced at the source, confused. A ragged scar ran diagonally across what was still a beautiful mouth; she found a strong jaw. She looked at him as if for the first time, studied the Alpha who had taken her, who had drugged her to force a child into her womb; the one whose purrs almost brought her as much peace as the sky.

‘Look at the man you claim to hate,’ snarled words that were distorted by gnashing teeth, ‘and kiss me, little one.’

Claire continue to stare, reaching up to touch, to trace the lines of her mate’s face—the stubble on his jaw, his fine nose, and the aggressive lips with their arresting scar. She whispered to him. The great beast began to tremble, eyes clouding with what almost looked like physical pain.

She did not offer her lips, but she pulled his head to her breast and offered a tingling nipple instead. He sucked greedily.

#

Tucked against him, his Omega slept far more deeply than she had after he’d broken her previous heat cycle. Carefully running his fingers through the dark mass of her hair, Shepherd purred, just as possessive as he had been from the first. Obsessive thoughts circled in his head, centered on the female in his care, on how to keep her, on how to continue. She was his; he was never going to share her. She’d stay in this room and he would pet and purr as much as was needed while the child he’d planted grew.

What was a sky compared to that? Nothing. The sky was nothing.

His little one stirred, and dark lashes fluttered open. Seeing his face, smelling the familiarity of his breath, Claire hummed sadly and put a hand to her belly. ‘I am pregnant.’

‘You are, little one. Your scent is already altering.’ He disregarded the look in her eyes when it was not exactly one of joy, and stroked her cheek. ‘You will provide me with a fine child.’

Something about the way he spoke made her incredibly uneasy. The haze of lust was gone; the moments of tender words and untrustworthy proclamations passed. Automatically, the purr increased and the tugs on her hair resumed. Watching him with distrust, Claire filtered through the memory of the last few days, aware he had been patient with her initial refusal and outright drug-induced aggression. Shepherd could have debased her but for hours he’d simply watched… until she began to drip, until the rut became unavoidable. Not that it absolved him of what he’d done, the manipulative bastard. She almost wished he would have just outright raped her.

He’d got what he wanted without her consent or approval, and been rewarded with a very willing bedmate in estrous.

‘Are you going to keep our child locked in this room, too?’ she asked, nervous that no matter what his answer was, it would not be good enough.

‘No.’ The purr came full force.

Claire reached for his hand, holding his eyes as she pulled the roughened palm down her sticky body where it might rest over the life planted within her. It was almost impossible to bring herself to whisper, ‘Will you separate me from…’

The hand on her abdomen tightened over a womb cradling rapidly dividing cells, owning their combined genetics. ‘You do not need to worry over such things.’

‘That is not an answer.’ She rose to an elbow, growing indignant. ‘I was not ready for a child—certainly not with a man I hardly know—but you have done this, and I would know what you are going to do to us.’

‘Already the protective Omega mother; I replace that pleases me.’ There was a strange glow in his eyes, as if the bastard was grinning, though his scarred lips remained neutral. Pressing her down into their nest, he purred, ‘I will not part you from our child.’

But would somebody else? The man had ways of spouting half-truths. ‘Shepherd.’ The name was spoken like a threat.

There was a smile in his voice, a hint of something dark, as well. ‘Yes, little one?’

‘Do not give me cause to hate you more.’

He was charmed by the warning, and began to twist his fingers in a long strand of midnight hair. ‘No more talk of hatred. You are my mate, bound, and you will devote yourself to me.’

Dark brows shot up and her jaw dropped. ‘You cannot force that.’

The pad of his thumb traced her lips. ‘I can.’

As if in agreement with the man, the thread began to bang loudly in her chest. There was to be no more talk, she was too tired to argue. The familiar weight of his hand moved from her belly to between her legs. Ignoring how Claire turned her head away he began to stroke the little bundle of nerves, flicking it to entice it to swell.

Shepherd growled and purred as he played with her pussy. ‘Submit. I will be gentle and you will enjoy it. Once you are calm, you will sleep more.’

#

The room was colder than the cell Nona had been locked in for the past six days. A guard, a brutish man four times her size, gestured to the empty chair across from a Beta she had seen on the premises. That Beta had led the men who’d dragged Lilian and her friends away days ago.

‘My name is Jules. Take the seat, Nona French.’

He had an unplaceable inflection and the startling blue eyes of a bully; she knew his type. Nona pulled out the chair.

‘Your registration states you are a Beta and, according to your clearly fraudulent record, you have never been pair-bonded or conceived children,’ the man began, looking up from the file before him to meet the older woman’s eyes. ‘Are you the one who taught Miss O’Donnell to live as a Beta?’

The woman had her own questions and was disinterested in the Follower’s bullshit. ‘Where is Claire?’

The smallest of smirks came to the Beta’s face. Placing his hands on the table, he took his time organizing his body into a position of subtle intimidation. ‘She is where she belongs; with her mate.’

‘The Alpha, Shepherd?’ It was asked like a question, but they both knew it was a statement of disgust. She’d seen the brute carry her off, Nona spraining her wrist trying to fight free so she might save her. Her wrinkled lips turned down at the corner, and the old woman’s hands mirrored his—a strangely antagonistic stance for an Omega. ‘He locked her in a room for five weeks. That is no proper mate.’

Hard, unblinking eyes held hers. Jules clarified, ‘Seclusion is customary behavior when adjusting one’s Omega into their new life.’

She laughed right in his face. ‘I should not be surprised at your lack of civility, given what you are. No wonder she was too ashamed to admit who had claimed her. Does he beat her, too?’

‘When you saw her, did she look beaten?’ The man leered, leaning forward.

Nona answered calmly. ‘She looked terrified and unwell.’

‘How long have you known Miss O’Donnell?’

The severe-faced woman said nothing.

Jules was through playing games. ‘It is in your best interest to answer my questions, Ms. French.’

‘Or what? You’ll lock me in jail so that I can be given away at my next estrous?’

‘At your age, estrous would be unlikely. I would simply have you killed.’

Tapping her fingers on the table, Nona smiled. ‘I’m old. And I lived on my terms. The threat of death does not overly concern me.’

‘What about torture?’

‘Only one way to replace out.’

Jules smiled and leaned back in his chair. ‘I didn’t say your torture. There are two Omegas in our custody too young to serve a purpose. It is them I will torture if you do not tell me what I want to know.’

Nona’s anxiety spiked. Lips pressed in a line, she nodded.

Looking back at the file, Jules began again. ‘How long have you known Miss O’Donnell?’

Her answer was vague. ‘We were introduced two years before her mother died.’

‘And you have been a surrogate parent?’

‘I have been a friend,’ Nona grunted. ‘Claire is independent and did not need to be coddled.’

Jules looked to her again. ‘So she is not aware that when her father died, you funded the endowment that allowed her to pursue art over menial labor?’

‘She is not,’ Nona answered, her lips tight. ‘As far as I knew, only the bank had access to such information.’

Suddenly the tenor of the conversation altered. The air grew thick and Jules spoke with no smile or intonation. ‘It seems you have a strong personal attachment to the girl, which makes me wonder why you allowed her to enter the courts.’

A deep furrow grew between Nona’s brows. ‘We both volunteered, but I was supposed to be the one to go to the courts.’

‘Explain.’

‘She stole the prepared clothing while I was bathing. By the time I was aware of what had happened, she was gone. Claire is very protective of the ones she loves.’

‘Did no one try to stop her?’

‘The group agreed with her reasoning.’ The woman looked away, her disappointment obvious. ‘And many simply thought she would be more appealing as our representative. It was a very close vote.’

‘Is that not ironic?’ Bored, the man looked her dead in the eye. ‘Who was her contact to Senator Kantor?’

‘Since you have already questioned the women who met with her that evening, I am certain you are aware that it was never mentioned in the brief conversation we shared.’ Leaning on her elbows, the older woman demanded, ‘I want to see Claire.’

‘No,’ the Beta answered flatly.

The interrogation continued; a list of assorted questions about Claire’s history, her quirks—some so precise, such as her favorite fruit, that even Nona did not know the answer. The exchange was strange, and she wondered why Shepherd did not ask Claire these questions himself.

#

There had been only exhaustion in Claire’s short-lived freedom, and Shepherd had allowed her no rest upon her return. Between the eight days of insomnia and the chemical alertness of estrous, Claire was drained in a way she had never known. There was never enough sleep; her former restlessness was replaced with haunting lethargy and an unwillingness to move from the nest. When she woke, she would be burrowed, completely covered. Once or twice she snarled at the male reaching in to pluck her out from under all the covers so she might eat or he might dress her wound.

All she wanted was the dark, and to be left alone. But Shepherd would appear no matter how much she hated the sight of him, the man dragging her to stiffly lie atop him. Too tired to complain, she lay limp, knowing he would cover them both and reproduce her burrow. Once total darkness returned, she would pretend the bastard was not there… or she would try. Shepherd would only let her rest for a short time before his seeking hands more than petted the lingering soreness from her body, fondling increasingly tender breasts and playing between her legs.

Claire did not want the attention, hated that his smell did things to her, that she craved it so badly she had a need to burrow into his side of the bed when he was gone. As if he knew what kept her constantly sniffing him, yesterday’s shirts began to appear in their nest. Upon waking, replaceing them pressed to her nose, Claire would toss them out and curse him to hell.

Shepherd would put them back when he returned.

It was almost a game. That morning, Shepherd raised the stakes. Claire threw one out and woke to replace two in its place. When she realized what he’d done, she giggled, a sound that made the secret observer in the corner perk his ears, never having heard her sound for joy. Unaware she had an audience, she threw his things on the floor and burrowed deeper, still laughing.

There was a swat on her rump and she shrieked in surprise. Twisting, shoving the blankets off her head, Claire sat up, hair a mess, and found him standing over the bed, demonstrably dropping the clothing in her lap.

At the blush on her cheeks, Shepherd was the one chuckling, prowling over her to sniff at the bedraggled woman. ‘You think your rejection of your mate’s scent in this nest is funny?’

She had not spoken to him—even to ask the hour—in days. Too tired, too confused, still angry, she frowned, unsure of his tone or intention.

‘Is your protest a silent way to communicate your preference for the real thing?’

It seemed almost as if he was flirting. Claire cocked a brow, croaking, ‘No.’

Shepherd fisted the blankets and drew them over their heads, pulling her against him as he rebuilt her burrow. Settling back, hating that he was not taking the proper position and instead looming over her, Claire felt his hand move between them. His fist was pumping, and it took her a minute to realize that he was stroking his cock. A few small grunts, a warning growl when she tried to move away, and his hand moved faster until he groaned low and long. Splashes bathed her naked belly and breasts, fluid pooling until it dripped into the nest and scented the confined space far more strongly than any used shirt.

As if she was in estrous, he rubbed it into her skin, pressed it between her resistant lips, and made sure his seed got everywhere. Something about the act, that he’d done it for his own pleasure and none of hers, left her feeling neglected. He left her as soon as his scenting was done; Claire frowning at his back. Peeking out from her burrow, it took mere minutes before she was tempted to exchange the darkness of her blankets for the subterranean dimness of her cage.

Her bare feet padded silently to the dresser, green eyes sneaking a glance at the Alpha working at his COMscreen. Dressing, oblivious she lacked an urge to wash his semen away, Claire began to do what she usually did in her waking hours underground; she paced. Her joints were stiff from so much sleeping and the walking did little to ease her black mood.

Shepherd seemed content to ignore her; she was trying to ignore him, but as the hour progressed she began unconsciously edging a little bit nearer.

Staring, Claire found his COMscreen bizarre and unreadable. Sighing, bored, she popped her lips and yipped when a great arm swooped out and snatched her out of the blue. Once she was tucked across his lap, Shepherd went right back to whatever he had been doing, trapping her in a cage of overly muscled limbs.

She had been so quiet and he had seemed so focused; it had not been her intention to invite interaction. She squirmed against his chest. ‘I’m hungry.’

An answer came. ‘No you’re not; you’re restless and desire attention.’

What she was, was irritated. ‘Why aren’t you purring?’ The jerk could at least do that. For fuck’s sake, it was the only thing he was good for.

Claire could not prove it, but she was fairly certain he was laughing at her, despite his silence. ‘If I purred, you would not have been coaxed nearer.’

Rubbing at the soreness in her shoulder, she narrowed her eyes.

Smirking, he went on, ‘Your mood swings are mildly amusing, little one.’

‘What is this?’ She gestured toward the screen, unwilling to be baited, and far more willing to be aggravating.

His attention went back to his work. ‘If you were meant to read it, it would be in your language.’

Claire simply rolled her eyes. Lesson learned. She would pointedly keep her distance to avoid this situation in the future.

‘No you won’t.’

When he responded to private thoughts that were none of his business, she snapped, ‘Stop doing that!’

Ignoring her, Shepherd’s finger went to the screen and tapped until something new flashed bright and pretty. Leaning forward, she eagerly reached out to take a hold without thinking. He began to purr and she to smile as she looked at an image of her family.

‘Your father was an Alpha.’ It was clear that that was who had all her attention in the photograph, that it was his face her finger ghosted over. ‘Your mother was an Omega.’

Obviously...

Claire was trying to ignore the distracting man, to focus on something worthy, seeing the patch of blue sky in the background, as they all stood together in the orange grove.

‘My mother didn’t like my father,’ she taunted, pointing out the parallel to their situation.

Shepherd mocked her right back. ‘And to avoid her fate you sequestered yourself away; became something unnatural.’

Her dark head swung around to face the man who could not possibly understand. ‘There is nothing wrong with celibacy and self-control! You might think I am beneath you, but your short-sighted view of Omegas is pathetic and limiting. It shows very much what kind of mind stands behind the charisma and insane agenda. I made it years! Years, Shepherd. And you ruined everything.’

Seeing the building fire in his eyes, Claire realize what she’d done. She grew nervous he would react to her outburst, and instinctively covered her belly to protect what was hidden inside.

His tone hissed a forced sort of neutral. ‘And what was this great plan you saw for yourself? How were you to replace a mate when you lived in seclusion and behaved like a Beta?’

Defensive, she grumbled, ‘I was courted… on occasion.’

Shepherd’s tense physical response was clearly displeased. ‘Betas?’

‘Betas respect my boundaries. Alphas are dangerous and take without asking.’

‘And you lied to them about your dynamic.’

Scowling, Claire clarified, ‘I just didn’t say anything about it. Being an Omega should not be what defines me, any more than the color of my skin or the level in which I was reared.’

‘Your mother’s suicide had a strong impact on your thinking.’

Claire shook her head and gave a cynical sigh, not at all surprised he had researched her history. ‘I replace it funny how often in my life Alphas have tried to equate my subversive behavior with my mother’s death. I am not the only Omega to feel this way—many of us do. And if you Alphas had a lick of sense, you would take time to talk to us instead of just spreading our legs for your own amusement.’

‘Was your father unkind to your mother?’

Claire looked back to the screen. ‘He doted on her, but it didn’t matter. She was in love with someone else.’

That stopped him at once. He began to gather her hair in his fist, pulling her head back to force her attention. ‘You will love no one but me.’

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.