It was unsettling; the change in Shepherd from the coercive beginning to the unquestioned authoritarian frightened her. He had forced a pair-bond, made a choice that would impact the rest of her life. Alphas and Omegas only bonded once, except for extreme cases when mates died. It was Betas that lived without the bond. It was Betas Claire had always envied. They had no estrous and could still bear children. Betas got to choose. They mated at will, some even with the same partner for a lifetime, not from some device of nature that forced a permanent pairing. To make the sting that much greater, unlike Omegas, Beta females were treated with the same respect as Beta males.
Betas were also second in the hierarchy of the three human dynamics; they had freedom to do as they pleased with their lives. Omegas, so rare and highly desired, had been relegated to a prestige of prized pet—a status symbol for powerful Alphas to claim. They were smaller, no less intelligent, but as their numbers were decreasing it was an easy minority for the rest of the colonies to force into some archaic ideal. The Alphas ruled the last bastions of civilization, were supreme in every Bio-Dome, every regulated quadrant, every powerful business, and there were a lot more of them than there were Omegas.
Looking over the dim room, ignoring the nest she'd built between sessions of being fucked, Claire wondered about the man. Spartan was not exactly the right word for what she saw... maybe utilitarian was better. Only the basics existed: a bed, desk, small table, and a few other useful pieces of furniture; all mismatching, none chosen for anything other than practicality.
Then there was the bookcase.
Stepping barefoot over a concrete floor, she looked at the titles, several of which were in different languages, and found his collection of literature... surprising. These were the books of an intellectual, many clearly having been read more than once. She recognized several of the authors, Nietzsche and Machiavelli to name a few, only because books penned by those men had been banned from the Archives. The penalty for possessing such literature was so severe, even knowing her government had fallen, Claire was nervous to touch them.
Then again, who but Shepherd was going to punish her now?
Limbs shaky from the toll taken on her body during estrous, Claire reached out and traced her finger over the spines. It was cold in that subterranean, windowless space—a reminder that he had dragged her down into the Undercroft. She abandoned her exploration and sought out her clothes... only to find that every last shredded piece was gone.
She would rather face Shepherd's wrath for wearing his clothing without permission than wait around naked like an odalisque. Digging through the room's modest dresser, Claire found a sweater that would pass for a dress on her much smaller frame. Pulling the grey thing over her head, she was relieved to find it clean, the garment holding only the faintest trace of his scent.
Stomach rumbling, she began to pace, her eyes inadvertently looking toward the part of the room saturated in the dried reek of their combined estrous emissions: her nest. Claire had built them before in seclusion—it was an obsessive part of the heat-cycle, everything arranged just so. Blankets, pillows, all forming the shape that best suited the Omega; that made the females, or in the extraordinary exception the Omega was male, feel safe. The idea of nests had always fascinated her, the way she knew exactly where every piece should fit, the comfort she took in lying in the finished product; even though the ones she'd created in seclusion had never been used to mate.
Betas didn't nest. And base Alphas, or so she'd heard, would mount any Omega without allowing the nest, in a frenzy to begin the seeding. Proper Alphas understood the necessity. Shepherd had let her build it, had supplied extra blankets and materials aside from the usual things already on his bed. He'd even tried to help, crouched naked at her side, tugging fabric and fluffing pillows to hand to her. When he'd become too involved, she'd snarled and pushed his hands away. The nest was her job; he was an Alpha, his only job was to fuck her in it.
Her first mated nest was supposed to be something beyond special, a cherished memory, and not a thing that made her eyes well each time she foolishly glanced in its direction.
There was nothing special about the fluid crusted, sticky arrangement she had woken up in.
Frowning, Claire looked away before she screamed. The door was in her line of sight, one metal blockade between her and air that did not stink of sex. Pacing again, she tried to steady the wave of horror in her gut. The lack of windows, not knowing if it was day or night, feeling trapped underground, was itching uncomfortably under her skin. She didn't even know where she was in relation to the Dome.