The sounds from the beast, the soft noise that issued forth over the rending of her brokenhearted wails were those of a thirsty man who had finally been given water. Every stroke of her tight velvet channel as he thrust his cock lifted him closer to that unattainable heaven: to freedom. She was his again, trapped and tied, and he would take her any way he could—even if she hated him, even if she was only a slave to the bond. Because he needed her.

He growled so low and deep it made her flutter and ooze, made her shriek in horrified hatred, and he moaned into her mouth at the slick and scent. Taking what he needed, he rode her gently, spread her legs wide to see the thickness jutting from his groin enter her over and over. Rolling his hips and toying with her nub, he stole what he demanded and the wave blasted through her resistance until Claire reached a shattering, uncomfortable climax that made her arch and choke.

He drove her back powerfully against the bed, knotted as deep as he could, and shared her completion, filling her with heat, with his very essence, breathing hard at her ear as he groaned the words, “I love you, little one.”

It did not lessen her pain. It only cut her deeper.

Claire keened as Shepherd held her through it all, still gushing, still knotted, swearing he would never let her go.

8

Shepherd had hurt her in his fervor, in his need to see her mated while the bond reformed… to ensure that she could not escape it. There was a little blood between her legs, as she had been dry and aggressively resistant when he first thrust. Even her mouth was swollen from his unwelcome kisses. New bruises were forming around her wrists and between her thighs.

Shepherd relished each one of the stinging scratches marring his own flesh, his reminder that she was his again—each wound a trophy, and testament to what was between them.

His little one had put up a good fight, but Claire had quieted over the hours, though not calmed completely. The thread in her chest was frazzled. It pained her, so Shepherd held her tight and kept the heat of his palm where her nails tried to scratch through her skin. The tears had ended and instead, she was in a trance, fighting sleep, yet clearly exhausted.

The purr never ceased, and though she gave him her back, Shepherd stroked and soothed, allowing her little defiance. She needed nutrition and hydration, yet he withheld his immense dissatisfaction at the state of her body to allow her some respite after her struggle—to let her think she might rest on her terms for a moment.