Born to Be Bound

by Addison Cain

  Opening the medicine cabinet, it was almost bizarre to find ordinary things such as a toothbrush and mouthwash. It was the Da'rin markings maybe, the fact he had lived long enough in the Undercroft to garner so many. She'd been taught they were all unwashed savages, less than human.

  Wavering between using his toothbrush to get the fuzzy feeling out of her mouth and disgusted because it was his toothbrush, she finally just reached for the damn thing. A few minutes later her mouth no longer tasted like... things she didn't want to think about. Setting it on the shelf in the exact position she'd found it in, Claire turned towards the shower and cranked it on.

  Stepping under a scalding spray, she invited the burn, wanting everything Shepherd off of her. Eyes closed, hair under the stream, she let water pour like lava over her body. The puncture wounds at her shoulder started to ooze, the scabs softening from the moisture.

  There was only a basic bar of soap.

  Every possible inch was scrubbed until her skin grew raw, every trace of that man and his smell stripped away. She soaped up her hair, dreaming of the days she'd had access to such simple things as shampoo. When it was done, she stepped out of the steam, looking at the man's towel, and chose not to use anything of his that might re-apply his scent to her body.

  Skin bumped from the cold, she air-dried, wrung out her hair over the sink, trying her best to finger comb the black mess into order. Paranoid about punishment, she wiped down all traces of her time in that room, leaving it as close to how she'd found it as she could.

  With the light from the bathroom streaming into the cell of Shepherd's den, Claire found a table lamp and switched it on. In estrous, her mind had not focused on such paltry things as furniture placement and decoration; all she'd seen was where she wanted to nest and the male waiting to mount her.

  After all the years of careful seclusion, all the tortured heat cycles spent locked away to prevent such a thing, it felt like she'd lost a part of herself knowing she had been mated... and not by an Alpha she'd chosen.

  Now, she was somehow less; a failure.

  That humming little cord in her chest pulsed as if to suggest that she was more... that there was more now. It whispered that Shepherd had only done what was supposed to be done.

  The plaguing vibration made her angry. Desperate, she grasped for any potential relief. The pair-bond was still new, it was fragile. Maybe she could break it?

  How often had every other forcefully bonded Omega wished for the same thing?

  It was almost laughable how quickly the little cord in her chest hummed, tempting her to accept her position, to submit to such a strong Alpha.

  The feeling made her want to vomit.

  It was unsettling; the change in Shepherd from the coercive beginning to the unquestioned authoritarian frightened her. He had forced a pair-bond, made a choice that would impact the rest of her life. Alphas and Omegas only bonded once, except for extreme cases when mates died. It was Betas that lived without the bond. It was Betas Claire had always envied. They had no estrous and could still bear children. Betas got to choose. They mated at will, some even with the same partner for a lifetime, not from some device of nature that forced a permanent pairing. To make the sting that much greater, unlike Omegas, Beta females were treated with the same respect as Beta males.

  Betas were also second in the hierarchy of the three human dynamics; they had freedom to do as they pleased with their lives. Omegas, so rare and highly desired, had been relegated to a prestige of prized pet—a status symbol for powerful Alphas to claim. They were smaller, no less intelligent, but as their numbers were decreasing it was an easy minority for the rest of the colonies to force into some archaic ideal. The Alphas ruled the last bastions of civilization, were supreme in every Bio-Dome, every regulated quadrant, every powerful business, and there were a lot more of them than there were Omegas.

  Looking over the dim room, ignoring the nest she'd built between sessions of being fucked, Claire wondered about the man. Spartan was not exactly the right word for what she saw... maybe utilitarian was better. Only the basics existed: a bed, desk, small table, and a few other useful pieces of furniture; all mismatching, none chosen for anything other than practicality.

  Then there was the bookcase.

  Stepping barefoot over a concrete floor, she looked at the titles, several of which were in different languages, and found his collection of literature... surprising. These were the books of an intellectual, many clearly having been read more than once. She recognized several of the authors, Nietzsche and Machiavelli to name a few, only because books penned by those men had been banned from the Archives. The penalty for possessing such literature was so severe, even knowing her government had fallen, Claire was nervous to touch them.

  Then again, who but Shepherd was going to punish her now?

  Limbs shaky from the toll taken on her body during estrous, Claire reached out and traced her finger over the spines. It was cold in that subterranean, windowless space—a reminder that he had dragged her down into the Undercroft. She abandoned her exploration and sought out her clothes... only to find that every last shredded piece was gone.

  She would rather face Shepherd's wrath for wearing his clothing without permission than wait around naked like an odalisque. Digging through the room's modest dresser, Claire found a sweater that would pass for a dress on her much smaller frame. Pulling the grey thing over her head, she was relieved to find it clean, the garment holding only the faintest trace of his scent.

  Stomach rumbling, she began to pace, her eyes inadvertently looking toward the part of the room saturated in the dried reek of their combined estrous emissions: her nest. Claire had built them before in seclusion—it was an obsessive part of the heat-cycle, everything arranged just so. Blankets, pillows, all forming the shape that best suited the Omega; that made the females, or in the extraordinary exception the Omega was male, feel safe. The idea of nests had always fascinated her, the way she knew exactly where every piece should fit, the comfort she took in lying in the finished product; even though the ones she'd created in seclusion had never been used to mate.

  Betas didn't nest. And base Alphas, or so she'd heard, would mount any Omega without allowing the nest, in a frenzy to begin the seeding. Proper Alphas understood the necessity. Shepherd had let her build it, had supplied extra blankets and materials aside from the usual things already on his bed. He'd even tried to help, crouched naked at her side, tugging fabric and fluffing pillows to hand to her. When he'd become too involved, she'd snarled and pushed his hands away. The nest was her job; he was an Alpha, his only job was to fuck her in it.

  Her first mated nest was supposed to be something beyond special, a cherished memory, and not a thing that made her eyes well each time she foolishly glanced in its direction.

  There was nothing special about the fluid crusted, sticky arrangement she had woken up in.

  Frowning, Claire looked away before she screamed. The door was in her line of sight, one metal blockade between her and air that did not stink of sex. Pacing again, she tried to steady the wave of horror in her gut. The lack of windows, not knowing if it was day or night, feeling trapped underground, was itching uncomfortably under her skin. She didn't even know where she was in relation to the Dome.

  The longer she walked the length of the room, the more she wanted out of it.

  She ran to the door and tried the knob, knowing it would be locked but needing to feel the immovable metal with her own fingers. The cry she made was unavoidable; a sad whimper of someone who'd hoped; someone on the verge of panic. She was a prisoner bound to a man she did not know; hungry, scared, and suffering an unwelcome thread that would not stop existing no matter how hard she willed it away.

  By the time her captor returned, Claire was stretched out on the floor, staring at the ceiling with glassy eyes.

  "You have been distressed," Shepherd grunted, sniffing the air. "Because you are hungry?"

  Blinking at the ceiling, wondering if he c
ould feel just what she was thinking at that moment, Claire glanced past his massive legs to the door that was now unlocked, and imagined she might make a run for it. That freedom was hers.

  "I see," he growled, eyes narrowed to slits.

  As the breath left her lungs, she admitted, "I am very hungry."

  Crouching over her, he found her green eyes had shifted under her scowl. "You woke sooner than I anticipated."

  There were a million things she wanted to shout. Instead, all she did was give a forlorn sigh. "I don't know what time of day it is."

  "It is the midday hour. Food will arrive shortly."

  "Grand." Claire's attention went back to the cement ceiling.

  The male went so far as to run his fingers over her pouting lips. "Do you have any desire to mate?"

  "I do not," she answered quickly, still frightened from the last painful coupling. It was all Claire could do to fight the urge to scoot away, certain it would only entice him to chase and do it again.

  Small crinkles formed at the corner of Shepherd's eyes, the bastard was smug. The softest of purrs began, and in answer, her scowl somewhat lessened. The unconscious reaction annoyed her, even more so when his hand burrowed into her hair, pulling gently at the roots, and her eyes mechanically closed with the wave of contentment that came with each little tug.

  By the time a sharp knock came to the door, she was a puddle on the floor.

  Shepherd called for the familiar Beta to enter, continuing to pet his female while his Follower set out a tray. Claire wondered if he did it just to make a point to another nearby male, to be possessive, or simply because it seemed to appease her. Probably all three.

  They were alone again. The giant gave her a nudge to open her eyes, cocking his head toward the table. "Eat."

  He insisted on helping her stand, making her touch him more than she wanted. Glancing at the delicious smelling tray, Claire found that there was only food for her. Throughout the meal, he watched her as one watches prey, noting the minutiae of her movements. She didn't like canned green beans, but she ate what was given. She hummed at the taste of ham. The glass of milk made her lips curl just a little.

  There was a pill on the side of the tray, a thing she had seen, then forgotten—too caught up in an actual warm meal. Shepherd's large fingers pinched it and held it out for her to take.

  "What is that?" Claire asked, covering her mouth as she spoke.

  "You are deficient in many nutrients from starvation and recent estrous."

  There was no point in arguing. Whether it was a vitamin or poison, if he wanted her to take it, it would be a simple thing for him to force.

  As she swallowed the tablet, Shepherd said, "The blue pills I found in your coat pocket. Do you know what they were?"

  Disgust was clear in her expression. "They were supposed to be heat-suppressants—cost me a week's worth of food. I had been taking them for days before I came to the Citadel to beg for your help. Clearly, they didn't work, and you didn't help, either. So... as far as I see it, they were a bad joke."

  Reaching across the table for her free hand, Shepherd wrapped his great paw around her wrist. All he need do was squeeze and her bones would be crushed and broken. She took it as a subtle warning to watch her tongue.

  Tracing his thumb over her pulse, he explained, "I had a lab analyze your pills. They were quite the opposite, little one—designed to prompt your heat-cycle."

  Opposite? Fertility drugs... Other girls in hiding had been taking those pills. Dozens of the Omegas could have gone into heat unexpectedly, exposed, just as she had been. That was exactly the point he was trying to make.

  With her head in her hand, she heard him outline precisely what she was already thinking. "Someone clever is using your needs to hunt down the Omegas, knowing the females taking those pills will anticipate their effectiveness and go into heat out in the open. And like you, they will be mobbed, hunted down, or taken."

  "That's barbaric. You men are so fucking evil..."

  Shepherd knew it was a generalized collective of males she was referring to, not him specifically, and did not allow more than a hint of anger to come through his voice. "Where did you get them?"

  After a deep breath, she admitted, "From the same men peddling drugs on the causeways; anyone has access to them. I approached as a Beta, covered in the smell of another."

  "The smell of another?"

  "Those who are strong enough to leave our hiding place steal the clothes from the dead rotting on the streets. We use their scent to hide our own, as you must have noticed when I came to you. It is unpleasant, but we need supplies, we need food. We do what we have to, to survive."

  "Why was a young female chosen to approach the Citadel and not someone older, with less chance of entering estrous or attracting attention?" Shepherd demanded.

  "I volunteered."

  "Why?"

  "I am healthier than most of the others, have lived for years passing myself off as a Beta, and am trusted to think objectively for the collective as I have no mate or children."

  "You have a mate," he reminded her, releasing her wrist to brush the sore bite mark he'd left on her shoulder. "I claimed you. You belong to me now."

  Her stomach churned and she worried her lip. Looking up into his steady silver eyes, she whispered, "You could change your mind."

  For a split second Shepherd seemed a little disappointed; an instant later he grew viciously determined. "I am not an impulsive man. I made a decision. What was done is done. I claimed you. You are mine now. That is all."

  "But you don't even know me," Claire tried to explain, realizing the male couldn't care less about something as inconsequential as the personality of a female who would be compelled by the bond to be his mate. Her wishes no longer mattered.

  In a low, enticing purr he explained, "It's amazing the things you learn about the female writhing on your cock for three days."

  Blushing up to her roots, Claire hid her face back in her hand.

  Shepherd hooked a finger under her chin and brought her flushed expression up to examine. Tracing the pink on her cheeks, he said, "For example, you were pure... had not wasted yourself on the first Alpha to cross you in a heat. You also have a very strong will for a member of a submissive collective."

  "It's not submission if you're forced!"

  The way he spoke, the low rasped words, brought back all her fear. "If you had behaved, I would not have punished you."

  "I didn't want you to touch me—"

  With eyes still dangerously narrowed, Shepherd leaned across the table until they were nose to nose. "I will touch you when I wish, any way I wish."

  All the accumulating stress, the horror, the rage, just made her snap. "I do not want to be tied to a brute, to be pawed at and raped by a stranger—especially a male who wants me to sell my kind into sexual slavery!" Claire could hardly believe she had screamed out her feelings, and instantly pressed her hand over her mouth, staring at the seething male with frightened eyes.

  There was no question of what was coming next. Shepherd stood and plucked her from her seat, returning to the nest they had created in her heat. He ripped the stolen shirt from over her head and already began to peel out of his clothing.

  It was unfair how easily he could subdue her. Claire was pressed naked into the cold, sticky fabric, trembling, but too proud to apologize or beg. It would have been pointless anyway. Shepherd's naked weight came upon her, his hand cupping one swollen breast, tweaking her nipple until she squirmed.

  Shepherd growled, his voice monstrous, "Raped? You screamed and begged, little one. You scratched and snarled if I did not fuck you when you wanted to be mounted. Have you forgotten? Shall I remind you?"

  His hand dipped between the trembling legs his thick thighs spread open. She was dry as a desert until he pressed his chest to hers, put his scarred lips at her ear, and let out the slow animal growl that caused her to gush. Her folds grew slick, her body instinctively answering the call of her Alpha. He tu
gged and teased her labia, spreading her secretion, circling the nub of nerves at the apex of her sex while the Omega wriggled pointlessly in an attempt to get away. She was twitching each time he pinched her little bud, so frustrated and outraged that when his cock was jammed inside her, she screamed. Her cry was far more than aggravated anger; it was positively dripping with the unwanted hunger the growls and touches her paired Alpha forced on her.

  Holding her hands pinned by her head, Shepherd began to pump his hips, his silver eyes locked on hers. He made that growl again, felt her juices around his cock, and grinned. Each thrust filled that slippery vice, stretching, and making the thread hum with a sense of completion. When it was too much, when Claire couldn't hold back the waves of compelled ecstasy, she called out her hatred, cursing him to the pits of hell, between pleasured gasps and long moans. Shepherd just laughed and fucked her harder, pistoning his hips the way he'd learned his little Omega liked best.

  With a wanton moan, she came, still calling out obscenities, full of coerced rapture until only his name was on her lips.

  "Shepherd..."

  The knot grew, his cock forced as deep as it could go the instant her muscles began clenching rhythmically to draw out his seed. Watching him grunt like a beast, Claire felt the thick spurted ropes of cream, lost in the rapture of her greedy pussy milking his cock until she was pooling with the stuff.

  While the knot persisted, Shepherd looked into disoriented green eyes and demanded roughly, "Whose name did you call as you came?"

  Claire could hardly breathe, was on the ebb of a powerful climax that shook her to her bones. She whispered, trying not to cry, "Yours."

  "Because I am your Alpha." It was almost a roar. "You want to be fucked by me! Do you understand?"

  Shaking her head, her lower lip quivering, Claire spoke the truth. "I don't understand."

  Unfazed by the challenge, Shepherd coldly said, "Then allow me to show you again."

  Once the knot subsided, he took her gently, coaxing and stroking, his thrusts slow and calculating. He played her body like a violin, drew out every possible sound a pleased female could make, gave her the type of orgasm that builds slow and burns long, watching her as a cat watches a mouse hole.