Reborn (Alpha's Claim 3)
One swollen eye went wide when the third of the Alphas pulled her hair so hard her head was forced back. She heard him grunt savagely, knew him from the others by the way he liked to grope her when he rutted, and felt him knot amidst the bleeding wreckage of her body. There was no sound from her throat, only a strange echo that seemed to seep from a place far away.
“We agreed no knotting!” A growled complaint was flung at the man with his head thrown back, too busy moaning at the ceiling to pay any attention. “It was my turn next, and now you got the cunt stuck on you cock. Pull out!”
The only answer was a low phlegmy moan, the sound more animal than man. A sharp series of tugs shook the knotted pair, one of the men trying to yank the bastard away. It was useless, his knot was locked behind her pubic bone, but it woke Claire from her stupor, encouraged a shrill stab of horrific pain, and though it had been hours since she’d been able to manage it, Claire found another scream. The high-pitched shriek and the sobs that followed were wretched, a thing full of hopelessness and pain.
“Don’t kill her yet, cocksucker. I want this piece to last longer than the last ones.” It was the one who had laughed when her miscarriage began, the cruelest of her assailants who warned. “You’ll just have to wait it out.”
“What’s that noise?” the man who had been trying to pry short-and-twitchy off let go, and moved to the door. “Get the bitch to stop screaming!”
But they couldn’t, she screamed and screamed, no longer human, staring out through the bars as more of those tattered legs came into view, certain the Undercroft demons had come for her.
Claire’s arms stretched until her joints began to burn, she fought the binding again when the monster outside paused and grabbed the cell door in an attempt to force it open. A ragged face appeared, but where she had been expecting lips pulled back to show sharp teeth, what looked back at her was outrageous fury and wide eyed concern.
It was just like Shepherd’s story, the shadow ripped the bars straight out of the rock to come inside her cell. A demon had come to claim her for itself. The noise of her attackers’ panic echoed off the walls. There were grunts and screaming. Like magic, the knot inside her shrunk, and the invading painful thing was pulled out. Another wave of blood gushed from her in its wake.
There was a roar of noise. A great beast stood over her. The rope was cut, gentle hands turned her over in the pool of vileness. She could hardly see, couldn’t understand why she was being lifted from the bed.
The three men who had used her lay naked and blood smeared, sprawled on the floor where they’d fallen.
“My name is Brigadier Dane.” The Enforcer touching her was female, her eyes determined and shaken as she covered Claire’s nakedness with the Omega’s discarded coat. “You’re safe now, Miss O’Donnell.”Chapter 13There was so much blood, Claire clung to the woman with the soft eyes, the one who had come to save take her from the pool of pain and take her out of that cage. She only had the jacket and her long hair to cover her, but once they were clear of the tunnels, the Enforcer tried to wipe her down with her own shirt, cleaning the wounds as best she could, while Claire leaned against the wall in a stupor and felt more of her insides slip out.
“They killed my son,” that was all she could manage, confused and unsure where she was.
“You are miscarrying.” The older woman nodded sympathetically. “Yes.”
The sounds of a battle raged all through the city, and Claire dimly recognized what it must mean. A revolution had begun. That’s why strangers were rushing by. That’s why the woman had saved her.
It did not fill Claire with the rush it should have, there was too much pain for that. But somewhere past the shock she knew, though her life was over, at least a few would be redeemed.
Under the support of Brigadier Dane’s arms, Claire tried to walk through the heaving crowds. Her savior was shouting over the mob, calling for a medic, a doctor, anyone who might staunch the Omega’s wounds.
Claire was bleeding to death—no amount of makeshift bandages and encouraging words from a stranger would change that. Nothing would bring back the son that had been ripped out of her womb. All that was left was to die with her mate.
The instant the woman turned her back to dig though the nearest dwelling for some supplies, Claire found the strength to get up from where she had been placed. On the cusp of unconsciousness, her legs did not want to work, fresh blood was running down her thigh, but Claire forced herself out the door, shuffling through the streets, a trail of red drops speckling the ground behind her.