Born to be Broken (Alpha's Claim Book 2) (21 page)

Shepherd ripped it out from under her brush the second he returned and saw it. Balling it up, his eyes flared in fury, as he breathed so deep it stretched his chest like a dragon about to spit flames.

Claire did not react; she just let out a sigh and set her brush aside.

Speaking inoffensively about a very offensive subject, Claire began. "Her name is Shanice. She is sixteen years old. That was her first heat and I can guarantee that she was not willing. She's cried herself to sleep each night since estrous ended."

"Had my officer been able to pair-bond, she would have been as content as all the others!" Shepherd leaned his weight on the table, aggressively irritated to find what was not the ideal he expected to return to. "You are the only one unsettled."

Claire put her hand over his, not to comfort, but to make it clear she understood the consequences. "That man could not be a day younger than forty-five. That girl is still in school."

"I am much older than you," Shepherd countered hotly.

"Maybe by a decade, perhaps a little more. Not old enough to be my father. I am also a fully grown woman, Shepherd. I am not a child."

Flexing the fist under her small hand, Shepherd growled, "I am aware of what you are doing."

"I am trying to communicate with you about things I don't understand," Claire countered. Small fingers squeezed his hand again and she let her feelings show on her face. "Considering your mother… explain to me where the line blurs and this becomes acceptable?"

Shepherd took the seat across from her, agitated but growing forcedly composed. "Arranged Alpha-Omega pairings are common throughout history, and are statistically successful."

"If the baby I am carrying were a Omega would you want that for your child?"

"Under these circumstances, yes. The bonded Omegas are sheltered and protected by worthy Alphas. All are fed; they are safe… they are not mistreated. You are the one who would expose them to Thólos in your foolish misunderstanding of freedom." Twisting his hand, Shepherd captured her fingers, toyed with them, even though his words were harsh. "You never had it, Claire. You were never once free in this city… You have never once been free a day in your life."

She truly hated the sound of him speaking her name, knew that the unpleasant feelings it stirred up showed on her face, and felt her fortification slipping. Furthermore, she hated how Shepherd was holding her hand as if they were lovers, as if he had a right to—even if she had initiated contact. "
You
mistreated
me
. And I do not know what I hate more: your assumptions, or the fact that you just spoke my name simply because you know I dislike it."

A large thumb circled the flat of her palm. "Which makes this discourse the perfect time to begin adjusting you to the sound of it on my lips, little one."

Holding his gaze, forcing herself not to snatch back her hand, Claire admitted, "So we both have an agenda."

Pulling her arm nearer, Shepherd purred, "We will not have a repeat of yesterday's argument."

"That topic was already addressed. I know my feelings, I know what was done, and I know why… even if you will not admit it. It is up to you whether or not you face what is fact." After a breath, Claire looked up from where their hands were joined and tried a different approach. "Are the mated Omegas really settled?"

The word was hard and judgmental. "Yes."

She stared blankly. "You must wish you had chosen with less impulsiveness."

"I have never once questioned claiming you." Almost musically he explained his truth, "And in answer to your question yesterday; yes, I would have still fought the mob and claimed you had Svana not diverted. You were born to be mine."

Sarcastic, Claire cocked a brow and grumbled at the obtuse fool. "And were you always meant to be mine?"

He took her jaw and leaned forward. "Yes."

"Then I must admit I see the irony that, like my father, I received a mate who really wishes to be with someone else. That certainly is cruel of the Gods."

Shepherd did not hesitate to counter, "I only want you, Claire."

She let out a breath. "The first time I saw you at the Citadel, the first time I smelled you, I did not see you as my mate. All I felt was fear. It was very hard to stand my ground and not run."

Running his thumb over her frowning lips, Shepherd forced a question that tightened his mouth and squared his shoulders. "Because of my Da'rin Markings?"

Claire shook her head, her brows drawing together. "No. Because of what you'd done, where you were, how big you are… the violence. My father was a very nice man—funny and kind. That is the epitome of Alpha to me. That is a suiting mate. You are none of those things. Since you forced the bond, I feel controlled, manipulated, you have caused me grief, I cannot trust you, and you only treat me nicely to get your way."

"I will take responsibility for the grief, but as for the rest, much of it is your own fault. You have made little effort to be a contented mate. Your resistance and continued subversion requires a firm hand to ensure your safety. I would be cruel to you to keep you safe, and I freely manipulate you as there is no other recourse to draw you nearer. Had you settled as the other Omegas had settled, your life would be happy.
And I am careful of your wellbeing.
I bring you things you never thank me for. I offer you the best foods. I stroke and purr and please you physically for hours."

Claire had intended the conversation to highlight her concerns with Thólos, not nitpick at the major issues as to why, aside from his many transgressions, their pair-bond was madness. Gritting her teeth at his list of ridiculous accusations, she took a deep breath and tried to control her temper. "When you were in the Undercroft, did you thank your jailors for what they brought you?"

Shepherd's eyes went fractionally wider, the man incredibly insulted. "Thank me for the paints."

Claire snarled, "Thank me for all the hours I have spent cleaning this room."

"Little one." The shift in him was unsettling. The male purred and squeezed her hand gently. "Your domestic behavior in our shared den is nothing but pleasing to me. Thank you."

Scowling, Claire lost ground. "I am concerned that if I thank you for the paints, you will know how much I like them and take them away."

"I will not take your paints. I understand that you need them and that there is little outlet for you when I am not here."

She did not believe him, but it didn't matter. Her lower lip trembled. Feeling her eyes grow damp she whispered, "Thank you for the paints."

"Do you wish to continue talking, or would you prefer to go see the sky now?"

She had made no ground in her agenda, had wasted the opportunity and learned little. The whole fucking conversation had been imperceptibly moved to the tension between them by a man far more gifted in discourse. That was not her goal; that was not her purpose.

Taking a mental step back, needing to reformulate, Claire nodded, disengaged from the ordeal. "The sky."

Entering the room with her window, Claire was wary the second her feet touched the floor. The setup had changed; a small table held two trays of food… as if Shepherd were going to eat with her—which would not only be odd, but a domestic act she was in no mood to engage in with him.

Like an iron bar around her waist, Shepherd's arm held her flush to his body, the uncomfortable handcuff still in place. They were not moving deeper into the room, just standing awkwardly as he leaned down to possessively sniff her.

"I would have preferred to mate you before this, yet forewent the experience because you desired to converse. I am also going to allow you a short time without the handcuffs," Shepherd said, unlocking the metal at her wrist while still maintaining a stiff hold on her body. "Should you disappoint my trust, this coming moment will not happen again. It would be in your best interest to behave."

Before Claire could reply, the numerous locks on the door began to hiss and her body was shifted so there was no view but that of Shepherd's chest. The door was opened and closed, and only then did Shepherd turn them so that she might see.

Instantly panicked, Claire eyeballed the stunning blonde and rushed to throw her body between Maryanne and Shepherd. "What the fuck is she doing here? You promised me!"

"Claire, calm down before you give yourself an aneurism," Maryanne teased, throwing an arm around her shoulders. "I was invited for dinner."

Bull-Fucking-Shit. There was a catch, there was always a catch, and cold dread settled over the Omega. Her attention darted towards the folding table, back to her massive mate, then over her shoulder towards Maryanne.

Claire was scared.

The Alpha female herded her forward, smiling and bouncing her eyebrows as if possessing no care in the world. "It was impossible to say no once he told me steak was on the menu… Don't think for a moment that I came to see you."

Claire's nervous laugh did not sound the least bit reassured. The women sat, Shepherd moved towards a third chair in the corner to watch like a warden observing a convict's last meal.

Enthusiastic, Maryanne dug into the food, made pointless inane chatter, smiling as Claire worked through the knot in her stomach and prayed the food would stay down. With the passing of half an hour, the tense situation calmed. Shepherd's soft purr from the corner, and the approving look in his eye every time Claire looked over at him, helped to settle her.

Just having Maryanne near was extraordinary, and for a moment, Claire felt… comfortable.

"Maryanne," swallowing the last bite of steak, Claire looked at her pretty friend and teased, "I think you may be the only woman in Thólos who's still wearing lipstick."

Full red lips curved up in a decedent smirk, Maryanne was proud as a peacock. "I have standards." The woman eyeballed Claire's hair, frowning. "And you have been slack in yours. You need a haircut."

"As you must have noticed from the pre-cut steak, I'm not allowed access to sharp objects. I am also pretty certain salon services are not part of Shepherd's philosophy."

Maryanne cocked a snarky eyebrow and purred, "But gourmet food is?"

Claire looked down at their finished plates, frowning.

Maryanne ran a pet down Claire's hair so she might show her the ragged ends. "You know, Claire, if it comes to girly things, you're going to have to outright tell him if you need something. Your Alpha seems dense as a boulder in regards to women."

Before she could stop it, the Omega burst into uproarious laughter. Hand pressed to her mouth, she imagined Shepherd's expression behind her, and laughed even harder.

It took a minute before she could chide her cocky, smirking friend. "For fuck's sake, Maryanne. He's never going to let you come back now."

"Oh." Maryanne lounged back in her chair like a well-fed cat. "I think he will."

While Claire composed herself, Maryanne began her duty. "I have visited your Omegas. They are blissfully unaware of your situation."

And that was why Maryanne had come. Claire ran a hand through her hair, worried. "Do they think I killed myself?"

"Yes."

"That's good. They would fret if they thought I was still alive."

"Only because they'd fear you might cause them trouble."

"Maryanne…" Claire warned, "that is not fair."

With an arrogant smirk, Maryanne waggled a finger. "Life ain't fair, sugar pie."

"Life is what we make it."

"Says the woman with scraggly hair and chapped lips. You clearly have not been making yours that great."

Irritated that Maryanne thought to scold, Claire leaned forward and snarled, "And what the fuck is your point?"

"That after one good look at you, I can see you've been playing the victim instead of trying
to live
." There was no more frisky tone in Maryanne's voice, no more playful looks. "Yeah your situation sucks; yeah it's not what you wanted. But it is what it is. And I know you… I can just see you stagnating instead of adapting, all stubborn to the point it hurts. He might not be Prince Charming, but it's safe here. He feeds you. You have it better than almost everyone else under the Dome."

Looking to be near the brink of ripping off her guest's head, Claire hissed, "Did he tell you to say that?"

"Do I look like I'd do anything he tells me to?"

"Of course you do." Narrowing her eyes, Claire mouthed, "You needed friends once… that's your
friend
sitting in the corner now."

For a second Maryanne looked stricken, and then grew coldly composed. "You don't know what it was like down there, Claire. Even you would have done
anything
to get out. And no, he didn't tell me to say that. It's my own opinion."

"Well, from your life decisions, it's clear your judgment isn't always the best."

"That look in your eye," the blonde settled back, just as unhappy as her friend, "I know what it means. You know I'm right. And yeah, I've fucked up. I am what I am. But you still love me."

"I do, you cunt."

Sudden heavy warmth settled on Claire's nape. She tensed, unaware Shepherd had silently come up behind her. His thumb stroking her spine, he spoke, "That will be enough for today."

Claire stood to say goodbye, Shepherd maintaining his hold on her neck. "I'm sorry I snapped at you, Maryanne."

"You shouldn't be." Maryanne smiled softly. "You're allowed to be bitchy; you're pregnant. Before you know it, you'll also be fat."

And just like that, Claire was chuckling again, stepping out from under Shepherd's shadow to embrace her friend. Standing on tiptoe, Claire pecked Maryanne's lips, the close friends' customary goodbye.

And it had been a mistake.

Shepherd snarled, Claire darting back against him, begging, "Don't hurt her!"

"She's like my sister, Shepherd," Maryanne tried to pacify, failing to hide the fear in her voice. "Get your mind out of the gutter."

"You will not kiss her again." An arm came around Claire's waist, keeping her locked to his side as Shepherd shouted a stream of foreign words towards the door.

The bolts were thrown and the door opened so Ms. Cauley could be escorted out by a parade of armed Followers. Even as the door was closing, Shepherd pressed Claire to the wall. She heard his zipper, the impatience of Shepherd's growl as he lifted her skirt, and he was inside her in a quick thrust.

It was nothing but an animal claiming, both of them still dressed, but his grunts were loud, and Claire knew that Maryanne, anyone, in the halls could hear them. And that, of course, was his point. Shepherd was loudly broadcasting that she was his. She wanted to be shamed, but found her body glorying in it, her mind already slipping into the haze. It was a quick pairing, especially satisfying when he spun her about just before she came. Face to face, the knot formed, her legs around his waist, his strength supporting her fully when so much pleasure bloomed.

"You didn't say my name," he panted, eyes like molten iron.

She said it, just so he would shut up and let her enjoy the aftereffects. "Shepherd."

There was a smear of red lipstick on Claire's mouth. Holding her still, Shepherd went to rub it off. His finger hesitated, changed course, and instead spread it around until her lips took on a rosy hue. "Was Ms. Cauley's assessment correct? Are cosmetics something that you require?"

The man had just knotted, was still spilling, and he was asking stupid questions. Looking at him as if he were nuts, Claire scowled. "Nobody requires cosmetics."

"I see no problem with the length of your hair, nor is it ragged," he grumbled next, stroking in the exact same place Maryanne had, as if erasing the other Alpha's touch.

Claire rolled her eyes to the heavens and leaned her head back to the wall.

His lips went to her cheek, her ear, her neck. "I have never heard you laugh in that manner."

There was nothing she could say that would not be inflammatory, but it was clear he expected some sort of answer. "She's funny. Always has been."

Shepherd understood that it was less Maryanne's comment, and more the fact that Claire absolutely agreed with her friend's assessment. Svana had never found him wanting when it came to understanding her or her needs. She was easy to please, loved the gifts he brought her, and always thanked him profusely. Claire was disinterested in almost everything he had provided, never glanced twice at new clothing, jewels tucked into her drawer, or fine things he put in the room. He knew she enjoyed the food, though her pride kept her from expressing it… and she found pleasure in her paints; nothing else had ever drawn a reaction.

He had hated every moment of the women's conversation, save Maryanne's wise reprimand to her friend. It was the only thing that might induce him to allow such a meeting again.

Stranger still, Claire had grown hostile, they had argued, and then it was over. No hard feelings on either side.

The Omega was growing limp, falling asleep in his arms. Still knotted, Shepherd carried her to the lounge chair and arranged them both while he waited for his member to soften. When her nose went to his neck and she began to draw in his scent, the Alpha encouraged her behavior, played with her hair, and listened to her strange musical hum—an Omega noise she had not made since… since Svana.

He had pleased his mate. She was even smiling against the flesh of his neck, Shepherd certain she was unaware he could enjoy such a sight by their reflection in the window. The purr deepened, her eyelashes fluttered, her fingers toying with the fabric of his shirt.

"I would provide female things if you asked for them," the man grumbled, oddly relaxed considering how annoyed he'd been only minutes earlier.

She took a deep breath, and pushed up to look him in the eye. After their conversation downstairs, she knew what was in order. "I don't know why you did it, and can only assume there was some ulterior, self-serving purpose, but at this moment I appreciate it. Thank you for arranging for me to spend time with Maryanne."

He could be so gentle, so different. Cupping her face, he looked at her with a soft expression. "My motive was simply to show you that I am keeping my end of the bargain and for you to enjoy yourself."

Shepherd was behaving properly, he was making concessions… and he wanted her to acknowledge it. Sucking her lower lip into her mouth, she allowed herself a moment to study him up close; raised up so that his softening member slipped out, they were eye to eye. Claire touched where his neck swirled with Da'rin parasites, the arch of his eyebrows, the various scars over his face, collected over decades of brawls.

This man was her enemy.

Shepherd sought to encourage her. "You're curious…"

Having the male speak snapped her from her abstract regard. What had been a subject became a person, and Claire shrank back. "Senator Kantor told me your Da'rin marks symbolize the men you killed."

"It is a common thing underground, to threaten potential adversaries."

"He said they hurt…"

"In sunlight, yes."

They were sitting in a pool of sunlight, and though he wore long sleeves, the marks on his neck were exposed. He seemed so calm, his eyes focused but soft, that Claire doubted. "But you don't cover them."

Shepherd smirked, tried to kiss her unresponsive lips. "I can bear the pain."

Crooking a finger under his chin, eager to distract the man's more amorous intentions, Claire urged him to stretch so she could see his neck in the light. Nail scraping over the branching marks, she explored, she counted lives. "How many?"

The male began to purr, stretching, luxuriating, when Claire traced over the patterns. "Many."

Eyes sad, she confessed, "I have tried to tally them, over and over. I always lose count…"

He wanted her cuddly and content, not frightened and eager to quarrel. "This is tradition underground. You have traditions, too. Most men are in the Undercroft for a few years, maybe a decade if they are strong. I was born there. Before I gave prisoners purpose and will to survive, few lived long enough for Da'rin to spread as extensively as mine. My marks were hope to many that they, too, might endure."