Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 52262 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 261(@200wpm)___ 209(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52262 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 261(@200wpm)___ 209(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
"Answer me, little one." He used that power he had, making the thread knock about in her chest.
Looking lost, her emerald eyes met his. "You have invaded my mind."
"And your body," he added, holding her a little firmer.
"And my body," Claire agreed, her expression brokenly resigned. "Is that what you want to hear?"
Pinching her chin so she could not look away, he warned, "You will not run again."
The pair-bond had grown so overwhelming that even if she did, there was no chance for true freedom. The dreams, the waking hallucinations; Shepherd would be with her no matter where she tried to hide. But knowing that and accepting it were not the same thing. Claire wanted freedom, she wanted to choose.
"Shepherd," she spoke his name, a thing that was rare unless in the throes of passion. "I needed to breathe fresh air. I needed to see the sky."
His purring ceased.
"The sky," Shepherd spat the word as if the idea were overrated; a deep breath rattled in his chest. "You think you know what prison is, little one. You do not. In prison, one is surrounded by the worst possible breed of men. If I wanted food or water, I had to kill for it. Shelter, supplies... everything was hard earned. What you call rape is nothing compared to what the dregs indulge in. You live in safety and comfort; I tend to you and soothe—see to your needs." His voice grew utterly disgusted. "And still you pine for your sky."
Shepherd had never once shared personal opinion. Intrigued at the strangeness of such a statement, Claire's brows furrowed and she said, "I can't decipher which of your Da'rin markings explains what crime put you in the Undercroft."
Ignoring her hinted question, Shepherd smirked. "That term you use for it—the Undercroft—I find it amusing. A poetic word used to describe a place of darkness, filled with the pleas of thousands scraping at the doors to get out. And as for crimes... crime is irrelevant. I was never condemned to your Undercroft. I was born there."
Shepherd was a man who remorselessly created suffering—one who understood the dark workings of the human mind as if they were second nature—but such a monstrous history could not be true. Claire stared, looking for the flaw, for the lie.
Tight words betrayed his irritation, "You claimed to know nothing of me; now I have spoken and you are mute."
She inched her face a little closer, a line growing between her brows. "Females are not sentenced to the Undercroft, they labor on the farm levels, segregated from men until rehabilitated. What you claim cannot be true. Such an act is against our laws."
Shepherd laughed dryly. "Your laws? What do you know of the cage you live in and the false histories you've been trained to recite?"
Cheeks flaming from his mockery, Claire shrank back. "So in isolating me from the world, your goal is to make me deranged like you?"
The question seemed to momentarily confuse him. After a brief pause, he answered, "I want you to become amenable, to stop resisting, and to look objectively instead of with bruised emotions that will never serve you."
"And I am just supposed to forget what you've done?" Hurt sat in her eyes; Claire listing his sins. "You took me against my will, offered no help to my cause... only seized for your own. You have captured the Omegas and even now hold them captive so you might give them away to strangers. You see us as objects. How can you not understand why I feel so resistant, why I am afraid?"
He purred, almost inaudibly, once she claimed to feel fear. So intent on her expression, so very concentrated in his regard, his hand cupped her cheek. Large thumb stroking soft skin, he explained, "Your own kind betrayed you. Do not waste your thoughts on those who are unworthy."
She could feel her eyes well, knew he would not let her look away, and forced herself to ask, "Were any of them hurt?"
"No wounds of consequence. Three will be hanged."
Horrified, Claire whispered, "For what reason?"
Shepherd hardened his expression, flexing the arm that chained her to his lap. "They attacked my mate and tried to sell you to me... thought to barter a life I already own to ensure their comfort. Do not imagine they had any regard for the others either; those women had no intention of returning to share the spoils."
Claire clutched at the hand he held to her face, pleading. "Please don't kill them. Lilian and the others were starving, afraid, and desperate."
"So were you," his narrowed eyes flared, "more afraid than they were. And you were, and are still, trying to be their champion."
Looking down, full of sadness, Claire muttered, "I am a piss-poor champion."
"You did fairly well considering the odds," he acknowledged quietly. "Your flaw was assuming there is good in Thólos, when there is not. That is why you lost."