With his head ducked low between his shoulders, Corday walked across the shadowed causeway, the man ahead in the flapping coat eyeing him like fresh meat.
For two days he’d watched the chem pusher peddle to so many citizens it seemed staggering how freely the drug rings operated now that the Enforcers were off the radar. The thug made absolutely no secret of his unlawful business, almost taunting whoever might challenge his actions to dare speak it to his face.
Without greeting, Corday grunted, ‘I need your heat-suppressants, the little blue ones.’
‘Sure thing, man.’ It was obvious, apparent in the tone and cadence of the chem pusher’s speech, that the dealer was an Outcast; by the dilation of his pupils, one who sampled his own wares. Sagging jowls bouncing, he pulled out a bottle. ‘Gonna cost ya. Going rate’s a kilo of fresh produce and five rations of meat.’
‘That right?’ Corday shook his head, trying to avoid noticing any family resemblance in a convict the same age his father would have been. ‘I have something far more valuable than food we’re willing to trade… if you can manage twenty or thirty bottles.’
Yellowed eyes narrowed. ‘Why you need so many?’
Corday gave the man the most perverted of grins. ‘Let’s just say, we like to keep our Omegas begging for it. If you supply, you can partake.’
‘A man after my own heart.’ Chipped, brown teeth on display, a knowing smile accompanied the pusher’s question, ‘How many did you catch?’
Corday shrugged. ‘Enough to keep half the zone’s dicks wet, so long as they’re locked in estrous.’
Scratching his chin, the chem pusher cleared a great deal of phlegm from his throat laughing. ‘Shepherd’s Followers slaughter any man caught with an induced Omega. A wise businessman might look for more than just meds…’
Voice disinterested, Corday asked, ‘Such as?’
‘What you really came here for. Partners. My gang ain’t afraid of Shepherd or his Followers. We can supply you and keep business running smooth.’
Hearing Shepherd’s name thrown about casually brought a sneer to Corday’s face. ‘Fuck Shepherd.’
‘Sky-breather… without men like us at your back, Shepherd will fuck you.’
Cracking his neck, Corday muttered, ‘He doesn’t scare me.’
Breath which stank of rotting things slid like grease up Corday’s nose, the thug leaning nearer to taunt, ‘That’s cause you ain’t never seen him kill, or watched psychos bow to kiss his feet.’
Meeting those yellowed eyes, Corday stepped far too close for comfort. ‘You must think us sky-breathers are pretty stupid. The racket ain’t nothing new. But, unlike you, we weren’t dumb enough to get caught and crammed in the Undercroft. I said fuck Shepherd, and I meant it.’
The man flat-out guffawed. ‘You’re one cocky little motherfucker. If your stock is any good, I’ll get you what you need, kid. As much as you need. And you’ll get us exactly what we want. That’s how an alliance works. Or do they call it a trade agreement under the Dome?’
#
‘They really must think every last law-abiding Enforcer is gone,’ Brigadier Dane muttered under her breath.
The idiot on the causeways was either mentally challenged, or outright shameless of his crimes, acting as if consequence no longer existed. Not once had he suspected that Corday slipped a tracking device onto his person, not once had he even seemed wary. And even now that the creep was back in his cozy, dingy hole, she could hear the man laughing, the sounds of grunts, and hoarse, animalistic noises in the background.
It was hard to listen to. The Alpha female was fully aware of what was going on behind the concrete walls bad men thought would keep their flagrant secret safe.
What Corday had claimed to possess—Omegas kept like livestock—these men had in quantity. And they were being used even as the thug from the causeway plotted with his chums just how he planned to slice up the cocky kid who had such a mouth, laughing at how easy it would be to double-cross the boy, and how much they would rake in offering something other than used, slack pussy to the men lining up outside.
Corday’s continuous issue with insubordination aside, for once the Beta Enforcer had done something right; the atrocities committed against those females had to be stopped. All the men inside had to be wiped from existence. And order—even if it was only a small step back to the way things were before—had to be enforced.
Things had gone to hell under the Dome, the beauty of a functional system going up in smoke at the first sign of real trouble. It shamed Dane to see her brethren so weak, to know that the precious survivors of wars and plagues could still be reduced to nothing but the animals humanity had become before the Domes. Thólos Dome had been the bastion of civility; the greatest Dome on all the continents. What had been accomplished under the glass—the flourishing culture, the beauty of life beyond mere survival—was now abandoned by Erasmus Dome, by Bernard Dome, even by the poorest Vegra Dome. One hint of plague and any chance of support from the outside vanished.
The issue had to be solved internally. Shepherd and his Followers had to be removed. The contagion had to be destroyed. And the infection—men like the thugs Dane twitched to kill—purged; an example made for others to follow.
A day or two of surveillance and her team would demolish the upstart syndicate. Brigadier Dane smirked at the thought of a much-needed victory, eager to see the look on the wretches’ faces when she shoved something unwelcome inside them—something pointy—to see how they liked it.
#
Claire was gaunt, blinking rapidly as she kept as far from Senator Kantor as the small space would allow. With Corday gone, the Senator had remained to question her in his absence, so they might discuss options for the Omegas.
The options, it seemed, were limited. But anything was preferable to the other outcome; namely slavery, rape, or murder.
But help came at a price.
Senator Kantor was wise enough to keep his distance, to speak gently to the shifty-eyed woman pacing madly back and forth. ‘You must tell me about Shepherd. What you might know could save us.’
Just hearing that name sent her attention to all the corners, as if the Alpha could be conjured with only a word. Stopping her feet, Claire wrung her hands. ‘I keep telling you, I can’t. I don’t know anything.’
‘You can do this,’ Senator Kantor urged. ‘Any information you divulge will help us all.’
‘You don’t understand.’ Impatiently pushing her hair behind her ear, she tried her best not to trip up the words. ‘He didn’t talk to me…’
The look of pity in Kantor’s expression first inspired her anger, then shame. After what had happened, that look was one she would receive until the day she died.
The Alpha coaxed out the subtleties of what he needed. ‘We can just talk about the man, your observations.’
‘Okay…’
Senator Kantor started off simply. ‘The Da’rin markings, do you know what they are?’
Quoting what she’d been taught in school, Claire said, ‘Outcast tattoos—markings to depict whatever crime a prisoner was incarcerated for.’
Nodding, Senator Kantor offered further insight, ‘Yet most are earned in the Undercroft, given from one inmate to another—a testament prisoners coax into patterns under the skin.’
‘Coax?’
‘They are not made from ink. Da’rin is a parasite.’
Brows drawn tight, Claire asked, ‘You purposefully infect convicts?’
‘The men in the Undercroft live without sun, are exposed to difficult conditions. We subject them to a beneficial symbiotic relationship so they might tolerate the environment they labor in. And, should they escape, they are unable to hide amongst the general population. Not only because they are branded—you see, sunlight makes the marks burn.’
But Shepherd openly wore his arms and neck displayed wherever he went, his large flexing muscles detailed with black for all to see. ‘That doesn’t make sense.’
The old man sighed. ‘The patterns Shepherd chose hold great meaning amongst outcasts; it could help the resistance if we had a better understanding of the man… if you could describe the images we have not seen, we might build a profile, learn his secrets.’
Of course she knew Shepherd’s marks by heart, could almost feel the heat of them moving under her roving palms. Face red, Claire stammered, ‘The ones on his arms, the ones you’ve seen. What are they?’
‘A tally of the men he’s killed.’
Her embarrassed blush drained away, leaving her ashen. There were so many symbols swirled over the Alpha’s flesh, hundreds of filigreed marks, thousands, and they extended over his chest, his back, his thighs and buttocks… even his…
Her fear came back stronger than before, the link buzzing as if to question why she remained scared and alone when her protector longed to care for her.
Senator Kantor stepped closer to regain her attention. ‘Is there anything you’ve seen amongst the tallies you might consider noteworthy?’
Just looking at the man, tears running down her face, Claire drew a blank. ‘He’s covered, everywhere. The patterns mean nothing to me, just edges and swirls.’ All those times she’d traced fingertips over them in the dark, she’d been unknowingly admiring the death of another of Shepherd’s victims. ‘I didn’t know…’
The door opened, Corday returning to find Claire incredibly disturbed, her head in her hands.
‘Claire.’ The Beta rushed forward. When she didn’t panic, he drew her down to sit before her unsteady legs gave out. ‘You’re safe here, remember? You don’t need to be scared.’
Something about Corday being in the room unhinged her tongue, Claire blurting out pointless observations in her horror over the marks. ‘His Followers speak another language; I never knew what they said.’ With a tired laugh that was disturbing in the extreme, she listed the only thing that was absolutely correct. ‘He likes to read. He holds my hair as he does it, so if I move, he’ll know. I have to be very still.’
Corday whispered the question, ‘What happened if you moved?’
‘The book became less interesting.’ Claire quieted and turned her head towards the Senator, defiance drying her tears. ‘I was kept locked in a room. I had no exposure to anyone but him. There were no windows, everything was grey. The man never even shared a meal with me. Now, I’ve answered your questions, you answer mine. Beyond supplying true heat-suppressants, what will you do for the Omegas?’
The Senator, in dire need of a shave, offered a smile. ‘Once the numbers are assessed, separate cells of two or three will be smuggled to safe houses that can be defended and monitored.’
Claire’s ears pricked up, something in Kantor’s statement sounding awfully familiar. ‘Why not just send food to where they are now? There is no need to move the group or break apart women who rely on one another for support.’
‘We can discuss that option, though I believe it leaves you far more vulnerable than entrusting them to our protection.’
When had the government ever protected Omegas? Her kind practically had no rights without a mate to speak for them. ‘You will do nothing until I talk to the Omegas. They must decide,’ she said.
‘Claire,’ Senator Kantor pleaded, stepping closer to the female who clearly had lost her faith. ‘You need to trust us and stay here where you are sheltered. We can approach your Omegas.’
‘No.’ Her voice sounded less like a frightened child and more like an angry woman. ‘I appreciate everything you offer, but even Shepherd couldn’t drag the location of our hiding place from me. This plan you propose is their decision, and I will speak to them first.’
‘You haven’t slept in days, you hardly eat…’ Corday grew stubborn, squeezing her clammy fingers. ‘Wandering around Thólos in this state will get you killed. If you have to go, then take me with you. A Beta will be less threatening, and there is safety in numbers.’
Taking her fingers from his hand, she considered. Coming to a decision was easy. ‘We’ll go tonight, just you and me.’
Both men seemed appeased.
Sheepish, Claire asked a favor. ‘I’m going to need clothing that can mask my scent. Everything here I have already worn… I cannot smell like an Omega.’
Nodding that he understood, Corday went to his dresser and pulled on a heavy sweater. ‘I’ll go for a run. You can wear these when I return.’
Lashes lowering, she whispered, ‘Thank you.’
Senator Kantor left, Corday his companion.
Alone, she stood from the sofa to prepare.
She needed a cold shower, all that freezing water would help clear the cobwebs. Claire cranked up the tap, eager for a deluge. She sighed the instant pipes groaned and her sleep-deprived mind mistook the noise for something very different. The effect was immediate. Under the spray, eyes closed, where there should only have been cold water streaming over her flesh, the heat of large hands replaced it.
Roughened palms flowed over the line of her spine, soothed the dip in her lower back… the air full of appreciative grunts. Those same hands, callused and familiar, stroked her soft belly, stole upward to hold the weight of her breasts, thumbs circling pert nipples until they were so sensitive Claire whimpered. The thread pulsed in her chest, generous slick dripping down her legs once the growl sounded a third time.
All around her, low breaths echoed deep and hungry, the heat of his chest pressed to her back, the thickness of his cock grinding at the cleft in her buttocks.
Two fingers were pushed into her mouth.
His order at her ear to suck, and Claire’s eyes rolled back in her skull.
Pressed to the tile, nipples chafed by grout, Claire’s tongue hungrily twisted as it was told to. The head of his cock, searing hot, prodded insistent where she ached. His was not a slow entry. Shepherd speared her, his rhythm erratic, filling the small enclosure with Claire’s muffled cries no matter how he finger fucked her mouth.
Forehead against the tile, hardly able to breath, Claire came with a shriek. Everything inside her clenched, slick ran like a river, and the hallucination ended.
Phantom hands were gone.
There was no Shepherd.
No growls.
No licentious grunts.
All there had ever been was the sound of the pipes and her inadequate fingers working her pussy.
Shaken, she looked down at her hand, horrified to see what she’d done. She was going crazy, every other thought running out of control. In a panic, she reached for the soap and began to scrub away the pheromone-laced slick before the whole apartment reeked of Omega arousal.
She was in the kitchen when Corday returned. Looking up from the simple pasta she’d prepared for dinner, Claire offered a smile. ‘Welcome back.’
Good and sweaty, Corday’s cockeyed smile was quickly hidden when he pulled the pungent sweater over his head. ‘Just let me grab a quick shower. We’ll eat, then we’ll go.’
Nodding, smiling in gratitude for his effort, she announced, ‘Dinner will be ready when you’re done.’
Once Corday had disappeared behind the bathroom door, she retrieved the little white pill that had been hidden away days ago. Crushing it to a fine powder, she mixed the drug into his serving.
Claire knew no amount of soap could wash away the pheromones lingering in the bathroom. When he took longer than usual, red up to her ears, she tried to ignore Corday’s muffled grunt, ashamed she’d put him in such a position.
Another stifled noise, an extended curse, and the sound of the water ended.
By the time Corday emerged, her embarrassment had faded back into familiar fatigue, and she offered the dish.
Between the run, jacking off in the shower, and the sleeping pill she’d hidden in his food, Corday was out cold in less than an hour. Claire dressed in the sweaty clothes he’d prepared for her, threw a blanket over the Beta who’d been so kind, and left to find her Omegas.
#
The harsher chill of the Lower Reaches was underscored by light flurries dampening Claire’s clothes. The distance was far, her pace dangerous for an exhausted woman about ready to drop.
It seemed they had been anticipating her, a small group of Omegas already at the cracked entrance, candle in hand. Doubled over once safely inside, Claire struggled to catch her breath, croaking, ‘Senator Kantor has a plan. He can provide food and real heat-suppressants.’
‘How?’ It was Lilian, the redhead, who brought the candle closer.
‘That is what we must discuss. He wishes to break us up into smaller cells, smuggle us to safe houses where armed Enforcers could stand guard. Or, should we demand it, they will bring rations here.’
‘The Enforcers are hunted down in the streets.’ Deriding, Lillian snorted, ‘They’ll all be dead in less than a year. Who would bring the food then, Claire?’
Too tired to be patient, Claire stood up straight. ‘I’m only offering options. The group must decide for itself if they want instant slavery or difficult freedom.’
It was then Claire realized no more Omegas had come to join them. Nona was nowhere to be seen. The only faces around that candle were Lilian and two very unfriendly looking women.
‘We have already decided,’ Lilian snarled, swinging a rock in her fist.
The world spun, sharp pain erupting beside Claire’s ear. Broken pavement and scattered refuse scraped her legs, her listless body pulled deeper into their shelter. Trying to focus past the ringing in her skull, her unsteady eyes searched for Nona in the crowd, only to find the older woman restrained, struggling to get free.
She called out to her, begged the Omegas not to give into fear, and felt a hand fist her hair to wrench her away. Dragged to a storage cell, Claire was shoved inside, the sound of something heavy heaved to bar her only exit.
Disoriented, surrounded by the dark, her green eyes stared blankly at cracked walls.
They were grey.
Her broken laugh echoed back at her. Tasting blood in her mouth, she turned so the icy ground might cool the throbbing lump growing on her skull.
But there was no time to rest. She had to get up.
It took great effort to uncurl from a ball and crawl to the door. Standing hunched, Claire screamed out her story, told them not to lose themselves in desperation and panic, to think rationally and see that Shepherd would never pay a bounty, that the whole thing had been a trap just to snare her. To stop before they all made themselves slaves.
She could not budge the rubble blocking her in; she could not scream loud enough.
Claire only had so much voice, and as it left her, so did her ability to differentiate fantasy from reality.
As she slid down the wall, the dream began.
So much running, the wave of madness at her back, but Shepherd was there holding back the dark, his arm upraised. She ran straight for him, close enough to smell him before her feet skidded to a halt. There were screams, furious screams of the Omegas at her back. The wave of noise was getting closer. Terrified eyes went back to Shepherd, back to the man standing like a stone in the chaos as he crooked his finger.
She took another step.
The dream began again.
Light came on in her cell, the single dangling fixture above her flickering in its sorry state. The hum of the old bulb and the filament inside drew her to her scraped knees and then wobbling feet.
The mob; she could hear them, their shouts closing in. Any moment they would come for her. She would run, because she always ran. And she would find him, because he was always there, waiting.
Again and again.
Her head turned towards the door, where it seemed inevitable his large form would fill the portal, that she would see the same roughened armor, the same Da’rin markings crawling up his neck… those eyes.
The intensity with which Shepherd stared seemed unnatural.
Whatever he saw in her expression made the giant crouch down, as if to make himself seem smaller. The Alpha reached out a hand, slowly, so as not to frighten.
He’d never crouched in the dream before.
Claire closed her eyes, certain she had finally lost her mind, then that sound came… that long pined for purr, loud and confident, reassuring her that all was well.
‘Come to me, little one.’ Even his rough voice seemed perfect, melodic as the words passed scarred lips. Coaxing, non-threatening, he added, ‘You will not be punished.’
The thread was pulsating, whispering to her as it did, tempting her to step forward and take her Alpha’s hand. That he was calling her. That he missed her.
Claire had no idea what made her say the words, but they came softly, like a confession. ‘You’ve been haunting my sleep. Every time I close my eyes, you’re there.’
‘You’ve been in my dreams, as well.’ Shepherd crooned so deep she imagined she could feel the vibration change her on a cellular level. ‘You’ve been singing to me, little one.’
Dazed, she pulled in a breath, smelling the scent that was supposed to be with her—the familiar musk of that Alpha. ‘What did I sing?’
A smile was in his eyes, the skin at the corners crinkling. His fingers flicked, beckoning her, and Claire found herself mesmerized by the movement. ‘Come.’
In the distance there were sounds, frightening things of the mob from her dreams. Soon she would have to run… or she could choose to end it.
It took three weak steps before she was standing directly before him. Looking at the male who, even crouched, was at her eye-level, Claire did not take his hand. Instead she sagged against him, demanding in an exhausted voice, ‘Purr.’
He did, turning to study the disoriented woman resting her head on his shoulder, weighing the beauty of the extended groan that broadcasted there was nothing else in the world that had ever been so soothing as the noise rumbling from his chest.
Massive arms wrapped around her the instant she began slipping to the floor.
Shepherd stood.
Claire didn’t see the blue-eyed soldier take up position as guard. She didn’t know Shepherd took off his coat, or feel her body being stripped of clothing that reeked of another male.
She was laid in the heat of his coat, wrapped in the scent of the Alpha. Unfocused and uncaring, she felt his body settle between her thighs; Shepherd a furnace compared to the cold room.
‘You are lost, little one. I will bring you home.’
She mumbled a reply; her vague mind in agreement. Warm hands, callused and reassuring, ran down her stomach, spreading her legs wide. Before she could complain, the firm press of lips and the flicking dart of a tongue ran over the part of her no one had ever touched in such a way.
Shepherd tasted her, ensuring she’d remained untainted by another… purely his.
Finding her uncorrupted, the Alpha growled savagely. At the sound, her body bowed, her pussy responding with a stream of slick. Shepherd noisily sucked it all into his mouth, swallowing, lapping madly.
There was nothing gentle in the way he scoured her clean.
A choked cry and Claire’s eyes flew open. All she could see in the haze was his face buried between her thighs, his eyes closed as if the feast were perfection. He sensed her attention, his gun-metal eyes flashing open. The lower part of his face hidden, Shepherd continued to devour her even as he growled, ‘You have been exceptionally disobedient; a difficult and defiant mate.’
Panting, crying out when he flicked her clit, Claire argued with the apparition, ‘It’s your own damn fault! You’re a tyrant. You expect things I don’t understand. I hardly know a thing about you. You don’t listen… keep me locked underground. How would you like to live in prison?’
Shepherd chuckled evilly, gripped her hips to still her writhing, and gluttonously pulled her dripping cunt closer.
Fighting gasps and throaty moans, she accused, ‘All you ever do is fuck me!’
She felt his teeth skim her folds, his lips curling into a smile. Shepherd’s answer was rich, licentious. ‘I greatly enjoy fucking you.’
She wished he’d disappear and the dream could end, but not until she fought her broken voice to accuse, ‘You force me.’
He rebutted, his teeth lightly biting the little nub his thumb exposed from its hood, causing her to twitch frantically so he might prove his point. ‘I always ensure you feel pleasure when we mate.’
Breathing out an unhappy moan, she whined, ‘That is not true.’
‘I punished you once by rutting you without your gratification, and ascertained it was not the best way to discipline your bad behavior. I have not done it since.’ Once the words were finished, he attacked her clit with rapid flicks of his tongue, a pleased growl coming from his smiling lips when his little one began practically sobbing from the attention her trapped hips could not escape.
When Claire was right at the cusp of falling further into delirium, Shepherd licked a trail up her body, leaving her aching pussy neglected so he might pin her down. A nipple was captured, suckled almost too hard until the bud lengthened. Distantly, she heard the grate of a zipper and then sucked in the heady smell of potent Alpha musk once his member was exposed. The bulbous head butted against her, and ever so slowly he eased into a place that was fragile and tight from neglect.
With her distracted, Shepherd tried to take the one thing he had not been able to coax from her yet. He captured her parted, moaning lips to tempt out a kiss. It woke her from the spell, her black lashes flew open.
It was not a dream.
All she could see were the lust-filled silver eyes, challenging her to participate even as Shepherd dipped his tongue into her mouth; he invaded —so she might sample how perfect she tasted—and began to thrust.
She tried to take her mouth away. To prevent it he cupped her cheek, running his lips over hers as much as he desired, knowing she recognized what he’d done, how he’d defied her last barrier, and fought for the kiss she continued to deny him.
The feel of his cock—it was all so intoxicating, consuming, and infinitely disturbing. Claire grew frenzied once he began pounding with vigor. Borderline violent, Shepherd fucked in earnest until she was writhing and crying out, needing release, needing sleep, needing him to give her all those things and more. Turning her head to the side, his palm braced her cheek so that his lips could suck a trail down the exposed side of her throat.
The feeling of his mouth, the rasp of warm tongue on cold flesh, and frustration blended with delusional ecstasy. The second her pussy clenched and her undoing began, he shoved in deep, his knot swelling huge, stretching her mercilessly. Claire’s orgasm raged so hard it hurt, her pussy milking him desperately as Shepherd bared his teeth and bit down brutally atop the scar on her shoulder—the scar that made her his. A crunch sounded, teeth broke skin, and blood began to flow.
Claire’s throat could only offer a silent scream, her agony ignored as he ferociously tightened his jaw. With her trapped by his massive knot there was no escape, made worse when her pussy spasmed and blended pleasure into the pain with each spurt of hot come the Alpha dumped inside her.
The Omega was sobbing when it was finished, bleeding badly, and so overcome that she no longer knew where she was.
‘Shhh,’ he whispered, licking at the running blood, hushing her gently while she wept. He gave her the purr she’d wanted, petting and stroking, his lips at her ear. ‘Now you may sleep, little one.’
Everything had been too much. Too much fear, too much heartache, too much anger, too much desire. Overwhelmed, Claire closed her eyes and gave over to the thing her body needed most. Shepherd tucked her limp arms into the sleeves of his coat. Hitching her about his waist, his knot still joining them, he walked out the door, her naked body and their joining covered by the drape of worn leather.
Outside the waste facility, the Omegas were being herded onto transport prepared to take them to Undercroft; a few snarling, others screaming, but the majority simply scarfing down supplement bars his Followers were passing out.
Claire missed it all in her dead slumber.
