His expressions were another study, Shepherd conveying much with his steel eyes. Claire was learning to read his moods by their subtle shifts. When he arrived angry, eyes blazing and nostrils flared over something she had no knowledge of, he almost always mounted her from behind—hard and fast—roaring when he came. When he seemed his version of mellow, it was slow touches while he watched her face. What she saw then, the calculation, the intense concentration—it frightened her more. He was dissecting her piece by piece. A little pressure here, a little tug there... and poof, no more Claire.

Their schedules were markedly different. They never shared meals. In fact, she never saw him eat. The only thing he seemed keen to share with her was his bathing ritual, washing her being an act Shepherd enjoyed and took extensive care with. Once she was clean, he would rut immediately. Sometimes against the wall in the shower, as if he could not wait another second to put his scent back on his Omega.

It felt like her vocabulary had been reduced to only soft gasps or screams of, "Shepherd..." That was what he coaxed out. "Shepherd..." Another part of her died... "Shepherd..."

Lying spread on top of him, not knowing the hour or day of the week, Claire felt the anchor of his knot locked inside her and suddenly began to weep as if her heart was breaking.

With his hand stroking her hair, he hummed, half-asleep, "Why are you crying, little one?"

She was crying because he was killing her.

He hushed her and wiped the tears that continued to fall. "What would please you?"

"I want to go outside," she sobbed against his chest, so very tired of those four concrete walls. "I need to see the sky."

There was no answer for a moment, only the sound of his breathing. "Once you have become more settled in your new life, it may be allowed on occasion, but only under escort and only if you have a bellyful of my seed to scent you."

So she would be expected to mate with him just to leave the room. The exploitation was not missed. Her tears dried and her usual distracted dejection made the little string buzz out of tune. "I have done nothing wrong, and you have trapped me in prison."

Shepherd felt her resentment through the thinly formed cord, traced the line of her spine as he considered her opinion of prison and how it was far from the actual truth. His little Omega should be grateful. Life could be a whole lot worse for her. "It isn't safe for you outside this room."

Half aware of what she was saying, Claire lay lifeless and muttered, "Thólos is unsafe because you made it that way."

Silver eyes focused on the strands of midnight hair running through his fingers. "That is true."

With her cheek pressed to his heart, she said, "You're insane."