She straightened her spine and fought to keep sadness from weakening her voice. "They were the only ones who offered to actually help, who wanted nothing in return, respected me as a person—not an object... I will not say a word that might help you hurt them." After a sniff, she raised her chin, all defiance and haughty determination. "You may have the Omegas under your control, you may have me back in this room, but you will never claim my integrity or honor."

A finger traced the line of her jaw, his silver eyes almost soft as they searched her face. "You are still so defiant."

"I am still Claire."

Unexpectedly, the purr rumbled, soaking into her, soothing her rankled belligerence. When Shepherd spoke, it was indulgent. "You are... wayward and foolishly noble... I find it is not disappointing."

Why was he looking at her gently? Why was he saying nice things? Narrowing her eyes, suspicious even as the purr made it all better, Claire tensed.

Shepherd's thumb brushed her lips. "Did you miss me, little one?"

The dark fan of her lashes lowered, Claire was unwilling to answer. She had missed him. Missed his smell and the purr, missed the calm he cultivated with precision. But her desire for such things was only the result of the bond. She had not missed the constant feeling of being trapped—watching day by day as more pieces of herself were peeled away.

"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."