Corrupted (Alpha's Claim 5)

And stole her from the world.

Once he had her, he learned as all mated Alphas must, that he knew nothing of what a pair-bond truly signified.

No wonder Alphas sold their souls to possess such a thing. No wonder they stole. No wonder they rose up from the Undercroft foaming at the mouth in their craving to gather their mates.

Claire might always resent how it was done, that the females matched to his Followers had no choice in the matter.

Such things were kept from her eyes now. And the violence of Thólos had evolved into the cunning of Greth. Here, Omegas were plentiful. They registered proudly and were flagrant with their freedoms. Chosen by unbonded Followers as simply as browsing a catalogue.

Rarely were they taken by force, not when they could be wooed openly and competed for. There had been four registered fights to the death between his men. The victor claimed the Omega—who was blissfully unaware of the goings on between the males.

One of those situations had gone wrong. The Omega preferred the dead rival and found herself unexpectedly bonded. Mistakes had been made with the Follower’s keeping of her, which required diligence and effort to correct.

Shepherd understood, perhaps better than any other, and offered counsel that—had Claire heard it—would have left her weeping in rage.

Ultimately, Shepherd was correct, and the Omega was learning there was more to a match than the beauty of her partner.

A thriving pair-bond required an Alpha willing to invest the effort. To affect diligence in cultivating their mate. They required an Alpha willing to both adapt from mistakes and compel resistant Omegas.

Fuck her until she couldn’t remember her name. Watch her mannerisms and learn who secretly lived behind the façade. Feed her well. Dedicate time to the attention she may not want but her dynamic craved. At the slightest hint of progress, double down. Overwhelm her.

Claire was thriving under such ministrations. She bloomed when Shepherd obliterated her boundaries.

As her therapy progressed, the more he unleashed—teasing out her primal possessiveness, using her body, her chemistry, her pheromones against her until she was forced to meet a side of herself that she tried to forget.

The warrior who had dared defy him in Thólos.

The girl who had shared images of her naked body with her people in an attempt to incite insurrection.

The indomitable, determined adversary that she conveniently tried to tuck away now that the world had made her wiser.

Claire’s self-enforced seclusion was unnatural to her healing spirit.

Just as dancing with her to the music of his new kingdom was unnatural to Shepherd’s entire life experience. Yet he did it, pulling her to him. Drawing out her giggles as they stumbled through steps, bodies touching in a way if she ever touched another male, that male would be a very dead man.

He told her so. She was only permitted to dance with him. And that had made her laugh all the harder.

It had made her run her hands down the sides of her body, turn, and flash him a coquettish smirk. He could not be held responsible for the rug burn on her knees. Or the ruins of her clothes.

His little one knew she was toying with fire.

She was testing herself too.

Yes, there had been a great deal of fear in the air when he took her down and stole her wind. Feral, he had ripped apart her clothes, roaring until he uncovered a nipple and fell upon it.

She had told him to stop, and he had fucked her twice as hard to drive home a monumental point.

If she tempted, he would devour.

There would be no more cautious couplings. Not when he knew what she could take.

And she could take it all.

Down her throat, stuffed in her cunt, the most obscene things he might imagine. He’d danced with her, then indulged the wanton Omega slut Claire pretended didn’t live behind fluttering lashes and soft conversation.

The nest was no longer just her place to hide. It was his place to defile. She wanted it tidy, he purposefully disrupted her design as he threw her body about and rutted until her outrage at his rudeness had been fucked right out of her.

Claire had thought to argue with him about it over breakfast.

Shepherd responded by hiking her up under his arm in the exact manner he had done the first time they had met in the Citadel, dragging his spitting mate back to her freshly made nest, and destroyed it over a series of hours while he fucked her until her pupils were so blown she could do nothing but gush slick. A mighty knot had sent her into a tailspin of excitement, irritation, desire, pleasure, anger, and while he had her pinned where there was no escape, he lifted the nearest pillow and ripped it right down the middle until a shower of feathers had left the room coated in downy white.