More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
Shepherd was petting her, touching her hair as if she were not upset, as if she didn't loathe him in that moment, and it was setting her into a temper.
When his point had been thoroughly made, Shepherd held her against him and purred as he petted, rewarding the wayward Omega for coming to heel.
Shepherd could call it whatever he wanted—animal impulse, compulsion of biology, necessity of the bond—to Claire, it was still rape.
W FMC FOR UNDERSTANDING THE CONCEPT OF CONSENT!!!
"If I start talking, you throw me on the bed. What's the point?" "I only quiet you when you fret."
"You will find, in time, that the arrangement will naturally grow on you, little one." Shepherd spoke as if he knew, as if it were absolute. "Exercise patience."
"You were going to smile," he grunted, as if he expected her to do so on command.
A large hand enveloped the entirety of her hip, pulling her a few inches closer before the mountain turned. "Your brooding is making you upset."
There was no such thing as true love—of that Claire was certain—only indoctrination, chemicals, and bastards who kept you locked in rooms.
Degraded, she went to her knees and looked up into his silver eyes, her lower lip trembling, certain he would punish her for thinking such dark thoughts. When all he did was take her head and put it in his lap, she breathed out in relief. He petted her as he worked, Claire silently crying onto the fabric at his thigh, confoundedly comforted as he played with her hair.
He had no feelings—or if he did, they were so twisted up in megalomania they didn't really count.
"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."
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."
"And that is why you are weak"—it seemed almost a compliment—"and why I am strong."
The punishment had been brutal, and it took him almost an hour to soothe her trembling muscles and ragged breath.
"When you speak that way, it frightens me." Strangely, he hushed her as if comforting a child, gathering her tighter in his embrace.
"I hate you!" "You are hormonal."
Claire had no coat and no shoes, so Shepherd wrapped her in a blanket, wiped her face and smoothed her hair, purring loudly to keep her from snarling.
"You are feeling better." "Does it matter how I feel?" she asked, low enough that her words were kept between them. Tugging gently on her hair exactly the way he knew would calm her best, he answered, "It matters." "I will never forgive you for this." The man purred louder, his arm slipping about her middle like an anchor.
"My feet are cold." "I am aware, but I want you to experience your sky for as long as you can." He rubbed her back as if to warm her and continued almost gently, "We both know you cannot be trusted, little one. Therefore, you will not be seeing it again for quite some time." A large warm thumb was already there to wipe away the angry tears he knew would fall at his verdict.
"What you have done is wrong." The pads of his fingers burrowed against her scalp. "I am giving you life." Unable to stop running her nose over the heat of his groin, she panted, "I already had a life. You destroyed it."
Claire was so much stronger than before—nothing compared to him, of course, but she had no reservations about attacking if he did not please her. And Shepherd loved it, loved how he had to pin her down, secure viciousness, and overtake his prey.
Even caught in estrous, she repeatedly refused his kiss. Shepherd found it very displeasing.
"Look at the man you claim to hate," snarled words were distorted by gnashing teeth, "and kiss me, little one."
She was his. He was never going to share her. She'd stay in this room and he would pet and purr as much as was needed while the child he'd planted grew.
"Do not give me cause to hate you more." He was charmed by the warning, and began to twist his fingers in a long strand of midnight hair.
Shepherd growled and purred as he played with her pussy. "Submit. I will be gentle and you will enjoy it. Once you are calm, you will sleep more."
As if he knew what kept her constantly sniffing him, yesterday's shirts began to appear in their nest. Upon waking, finding them pressed to her nose, Claire would toss them out and curse him to hell. Shepherd would put them back when he returned.
"I'm hungry." An answer came. "No you're not. You're restless and desire attention." What she was, was irritated.
"What is this?" She gestured toward the screen, unwilling to be baited, and far more willing to be aggravating.
"Do you still find me offensive?" In many ways, yes. "No."
"I suspect you desire a specific answer. I am too drained to figure out what it is."
Burrowing the pads of his fingers against her scalp, rubbing just enough so she'd close those unhappy eyes, all seemed so much better when his mate almost leaned into his hand.
He seemed alive, full of a new, unusual energy as his ribs expanded and contracted above her in rapid, excited breaths. "Little one, you are alight again."
Feeling her bury her face against him as if ashamed, he ceased the lesson and offered a purr, allowing his arms to come around her, to cradle her as she needed but could not ask for.
When he said nothing, she began to laugh at him, loudly, the noise saturated in judgment. He was pathetic... disgusting. And he was dead to her. The expression that came was one of confusion—the look a small boy cornered by bullies wears. It was perfect.
A purr sounded and Claire opened her eyes, entirely unimpressed. She felt nothing.
