Born to be Broken (Alpha's Claim #2)(28)

"As I promised, I will bring you here." He took a breath of her hair, kissed a trail down her neck. "And as you promised, you will live as my willing mate."



When they came back from her sky, Shepherd set her hand free. The handcuff had not been tight, but once he removed it she felt an ache in its wake. He took her wrist and used his big thumbs to rub the skin, as if he understood the feeling and why she had cradled the offended limb in her hand.

Claire watched his caress, finding it peculiar that with paws that could crush her, Shepherd seemed to know just how much pressure was appropriate. As the odd touching continued, she worried her lip and found him once again watching her carefully. When the silence stretched and his big thumb continued to rub, she grew nervous. 

Unwilling to act without specific orders, unwilling to be tricked or manipulated, she thought to withdraw her hand.

Shepherd trapped her wrist in circling fingers that seemed far more binding than the handcuff had been. "How will you fill your hours while I am gone today?"

"Are you mocking me?"

"What did you do with your free time before I claimed you as my mate?"

That was easy to answer. "I spent every waking hour trying to find food for the Omegas."

The giant smirked, using his grip on her wrist to pull her nearer. "Before Thólos became mine."

"Thólos is not yours."

The bastard smiled at her. "Answer me, little one."

With a huff, she began to list off activities. "Aside from painting, I played my mom's old piano. I spent time with my friends …  read stories, took cooking classes when I could afford to."

Her response satisfied the man. Shepherd released her arm, the drag of his callused hands against her fingers extended.

Claire used the opportunity to put distance between them, heading towards the bathroom, a place where he generally left her in peace.

When she emerged from her shower, she found Shepherd had brought her tray of breakfast. Scrunching up her face at the offering, she made a noise that displayed her reluctance to eat it. Apparently the junk food of her last meal was off the menu. In its place was some kind of green fluid that smelled heavily of bitter ginger. She drank it, hating it, and then sat in stupefaction when after twenty minutes, nothing seemed eager to come back up.

The Alpha seemed pleased, then he left.

Alone, Claire chewed her lip and found again that the painting of Shepherd was watching her. It was still there, left out in such an obvious position, still waiting for someone to do something with it. Wiping her hands, she reached for it, aware that even in the hours she had been free of him, his face still plagued her.

It struck her then that the Alpha had hardly left her side in her waking hours, or even physically left her touch in days. Whatever had happened between her arrival and the night spent in slumber on his lap must have left him content that she was established back in his power completely.

He was right.

Claire would remain a slave-for Corday, for Nona, the Omegas …  for Maryanne. She would do as he wished to give them all a chance, and she would continue to engage, stomach the bond, and play the good captive as she looked for a way to help Thólos by the singularity of her situation.

But it was strange to be alone in that cell, wide awake, and alone for more than just a fleeting hour. Looking back at that damn portrait, at the face of the man on the page, the hard set of his jaw, even the beauty of his lips, she grew uneasy at the apparent change in him. She had verbally attacked him when he could not use his normal recourse-already knotted, he could not fuck her, and had seemed astonished at the amount of malice he felt burning through the thread. Yet Shepherd had not yelled, or punished. Instead he had admitted his wrongdoing, and when their bodies were untied the man had even supplied what she had demanded before she'd lost her temper-he took her to see her sky, let her wake in the sunshine …  then asked her personal questions.

The thread hummed: Is your mate not trying? Are you not pleased?

She was not pleased, she was suspicious.

The wave of instant soothing reassurance was immediate from that warm, worming cord. It sang to her that there was no need to panic. Even Claire had to agree. The nightmare would end with his regime's demise before the baby was born, or she would go back on a hunger strike. Or she could break the mirror in the bathroom and slit her wrists. She could just refuse to breathe.

She still got to choose.

A wave of apathy broke, all good feelings from the view swept into ennui. Claire needed to think objectively, she needed to not feel. A finger began to trace the outline of the portrait's jaw. She made herself remember.




 

 

Svana …  Shepherd's beloved.

Claire had accused him on the ice of being twisted by Svana, but that could not be completely accurate. They had twisted each other in their sick, unbalanced relationship. The man Svana sought out in the Undercroft had earned her attention because he already had darkness in him.

Shepherd had suffered; his mother had been raped until she died. How many children suffered, how many people had been raped in this siege? What did he really expect to accomplish here?

Furthermore, why had he captured her if he had a lover that had been his for ages? It was more than the legacy he claimed to desire from his mate. Otherwise Shepherd would have reproduced with Svana. Why not couple with his beloved?

There was some upheaval, some key beyond simply wanting a child that Shepherd had been unwilling to share. Recreating the timeline in her head Claire worked through his actions, her reactions, and the consequences of her escape attempts. He had impregnated her as a result of her first escape, injected his fertility drugs into her before she had even regained consciousness. It was such an extreme response, and the more she allowed herself to think about it objectively, to see past her feelings, the clearer it became. It wasn't just the baby; he wanted her devotion, was willing to force it by any means he could. Shepherd had done everything in his power to keep her just for himself, obsessed over it, and hid her away to the point of paranoia. He even thought he loved her.

Shepherd didn't even know her, his love was based off something she could not put her finger on.

What more do you want from me, Shepherd?

I want everything.

The image of Svana, of the expression on her face and the subtle flaring of her frightening blue eyes …  The Alpha female had been displeased with her existence, Claire was certain of that. The woman had also been surprised to find her pregnant. Yet to his face, Svana had numbly accepted that Shepherd would have a toy …  one the crazy Alpha female thought should have looked like her, as if every Omega she claimed they shared had been facsimiles of her exotic beauty.

Why would his consort, one Shepherd admitted he loved, not know he'd taken a mate, or that he had created a baby? Why had those eyes looked at Claire almost as if she were a mere nuisance, an aggravating rebound?

Rebound …

Svana was my lover and I thought she was also equivalently my mate. I learned I was wrong.

Holy shit. Svana had been unfaithful to Shepherd's devotion.

Understanding dawned and Claire's jaw dropped; she was a rebound. Her skin began to buzz as if overstimulated, her mind flew into a thousand directions at once. Shepherd's whole world had been shaken and his mutilated reaction had been to take an Omega-to continue his dedication to the woman who'd freed him from the Undercroft, but ease his own troubled heartache by forcing another to love him as he longed for Svana to love him. 

"Why are you crying?"

Startled, Claire looked up to see the blue-eyed Beta had come with a new tray. Turning the paper pinched in her fingers towards the intruder, she ignored his question and just showed him the rendition of Shepherd in watercolor.

With brows drawn low, Jules looked at her painting, then looked away immediately. "You do not lack talent."

"So I've been told," wiping tears off her face, Claire conceded. "Does he know that you talk to me?"

"No."

"I'm glad that you do."

Such startling eyes in such an expressionless face, it was an odd sort of imbalance. "I know."

With a sorry smile, Claire pushed the painting of Shepherd aside. "You asked why I was crying. I was crying because I just sorted out …  why he took me. I am not sure if I feel worse for my own ruined life, or for a man who is so fucking clueless. Shepherd may think brushing aside his pain over Svana's infidelity will make it go away, that by taking a mate he might fill that void …  but love does not work that way."

Jules stiffened. "Your assessment is incorrect; do not think of it again. Such thoughts are unhealthy for your son."

"Why do you say son? How do you know it's not a girl?"

He sniffed the air but did not alter his expression. "I had two sons once …  the subtlety of the scent is specific."

She echoed, "Had two sons?"

His voice never wavered. "My children were murdered when my wife was taken from me."

Everything in his statement was exactly what was wrong with this whole damn situation. "Children are dying in Thólos now; others' sons and daughters!"

Jules answered blandly, "It is unfortunate your people prey on the weak, but what we allow is necessary."