Reborn (Alpha's Claim Book 3) (6 page)

He felt her internal reaction around his girth, the new pull that drank in the last drops of his lingering come, even though he could not climax with her. It was still very pleasing, each ripple and milking compression, the fact he had offered his mate the comfort she needed—something tender after so much necessary savagery.

All of it for her.

When he had drawn out every last ounce of her second orgasm, his hand left her pussy and began to trace the various angles of the exposed side of her face. Ghosting over her cheekbone, her lowered lashes, swirling around the shell of her ear, Shepherd asked, “Did I hurt you, little one?”

All Claire could offer in response was an exhausted, unintelligible whimper.

Shepherd pressed his lips right to her ear and purred richly. “Did I
please
you?”

A grunt, almost inaudible, came out on her breath.

Shepherd chuckled, relishing the pulse of his knot and the feel of her tight cunt still fluttering, her body speaking for her. “You pleased me, would-be Napoleon.” He stroked her from shoulder to hip. “Your submission was beautiful.”

Petulant, Claire reached down and smacked Shepherd’s bent knee. “I am sure I will be feeling very beautiful later when I see all the bruises.”

The nature of his growl lost all traces of tameness. “You chose the playing field. Had you not fought so savagely, I would not have restrained you while I claimed my prize.”

She wanted to turn over, to look him in the eye, but the knot prevented more than a cursory glance over her shoulder. “Your prize?”

The male’s deep chuckle shook her, Shepherd’s fingers dipping into the top of her dress to pull at her nipples. “All of this is mine. You offered it to me when you began to stroke my body and placed your teeth on my mark. You promised it to me when you called out my name and begged. I gave you pleasure because I am yours. And feeling you come all over my cock, knowing your body takes satisfaction from mine, it is something I love to give you.” Holding her a little tighter, Shepherd growled into the purr, lecherously fondling her breasts. “Confess that I fulfilled what you wanted. There will be no pouting or allegations.”

Stroking upward, his big hand enclosed over her throat again, but did not squeeze, only encircled the smooth column, a possessive gesture that made her flutter down below.

Warm words were purred at her ear. “Confess, little one.”

Disorder came from order, fear came from courage, weakness came from strength. –Sun Tzu

Disorder, fear, and weakness were all she’d seen wandering Thólos.

“You’re my mate,” Claire whispered. “You wanted instincts… and I’m all out of ideals.”

He stroked her again, Shepherd’s voice low and sincere. “I realize you are struggling to accept that everything was not as you originally believed. Growing wiser does not mean you failed. You should be proud that you possess the strength to face the truth.”

It felt far more like losing her faith.

Shepherd caressed her body, teasing further arousal until the knot subsided enough that he could take her to the nest and begin again—eager for his reward and her attention.

Arms full of Omega, Shepherd lay back on the mattress, pulling Claire to straddle him. Voice velvet, he teased. “This time I will be your prize, and you can take me anyway you desire. I will even put up a fight if you want me to,” a rich heady voice flowed, a smile thick in his voice. “And I’ll let you win, little Napoleon.”

Since they had opened the Premier’s Sector, the rebellion’s progress had been gaining almost alarming momentum. It had been too easy for the one now addressed as
Lady Kantor
to usurp Brigadier Dane. The resistance wanted a savior to make everything better after the Senator’s death, and it looked as if one had appeared. None of the surviving Enforcers knew Leslie Kantor; she had no reputation, no fame or infamy. But she had a name—the same name as their newly dead hero.

All it took for the group to fall under her power was the name Kantor, her stunning smile, and promises of freedom from Shepherd’s tyranny.

One by one, the resistance bowed willingly—all but Brigadier Dane, who seemed vastly unsettled by what she was witnessing.

It was not that Corday doubted Leslie; it was that he trusted Dane. Even if he didn’t like his superior officer, after watching her tirelessly fight for the suffering people of their city, seen the look in her eye each time one of their family had been reported dead, he’d come to trust her instincts implicitly.

Brigadier Dane never openly spoke against Lady Kantor, not once she’d seen the Premier’s Sector with her own eyes. She obeyed every order, but it was her lack of communication that Corday noticed most. He knew her well enough to see the older woman discerned what was important; she knew what was at stake, and she understood the importance of unity... and the danger of what even Corday could see was a developing demagogue.

People went missing under the Dome every day; it made Lady Kantor’s ability to swell her hidden militia simpler as the weeks passed. A small portion of those missing people, those with no surviving family, who had lost everything—those hand selected by Leslie—joined the ranks of an organized and dedicated rebellion.

To join her cause, was to offer your life, literally.

Leslie Kantor spoke a great deal, her speeches fiery, the flagging men and women under their banner once again alive with faith. She said there was no need to fear infiltration again; they were untouchable now, simply because those recruited to join their crusade and enter the Premier’s Sector were not permitted to leave until the day they would take back the city.

The only souls who could pass through that secret underground door, were those charged with maintaining a charade. Brigadier Dane, Corday, a few key members of the original resistance, were ordered away to continue their lives outside the rebellion’s inner workings, to meet regularly, Leslie Kantor occasionally amongst them. In the same house where Senator Kantor had once laid out his plans, Brigadier Dane now laid out the sham of hers.

She had been ordered to serve as head of this puppet resistance, a great many of those who followed her having no idea a shadow organization had sprung up within their numbers.

Day in and day out, Corday did his duty, and day in and day out the
resistance
grew weaker while the rebellion grew stronger.

Unlike Brigadier Dane, Corday had been back inside the Premier’s Sector more than once to confer with Lady Kantor. Each time he’d returned, those who had been chosen, seemed more like Followers and less like citizens. There was a fire in their eyes when they looked to their leader, a zealotry that made Corday nervous.

All in the name of progress...

Leslie had taken to the dead Premier’s desk. His office had become hers, even though not all the bloodstains could be removed from the wallpaper or carpet. She always smiled when he entered; she always stood from her chair, circled the desk, and greeted him with a kiss on the cheek.

“I am so glad to see you, Corday. What news have you brought?”

“Fifteen of our men died last night trying to procure a shipment of food.” He wasn’t talking about the soldiers she had gathered around her. He was talking about the original supporters of the resistance who were still in the dark about what was going on here. “Shepherd’s men defended their cache. Every case of fresh produce made it into the Citadel.”

“They didn’t die for nothing, dear Corday.” Leslie put a hand to his cheek; she offered an expression of deep sadness. “They served as a distraction so my team might acquire a great deal of fertilizer left forgotten on the farm levels. Our first mission was successful. Those men and women’s sacrifice will be remembered.”

No one had discussed this with him. How could she knowingly have let him lead his men to their death? “A team left here on your orders?”

Smiling, Leslie nodded. “Yes, a small squad, hand-selected by me. I trust them implicitly; last night each one of them proved they were worthy of that faith. Soon, we will have everything we need to craft military-grade explosives.”

There was one major impediment to Lady Kantor’s grand scheme, one Corday could not be quiet about. “We still do not know the location of the virus.”

“Your men have scoured the city with nothing to show for it for almost a year. Shepherd must keep it in the Citadel. We burn that building to ash, set off enough explosives to incinerate everything inside, the virus will be destroyed. Wasting time searching, as my uncle did, got us nowhere.” She took his hand, squeezing his fingers as she led him to sit so she might serve him a drink. “The true rebellion is about action.”

Watching her pour coffee from a china pot into a decorative cup, Corday wondered if she knew how ridiculous such an act of congenial etiquette was when they were talking of inciting a massacre.

If the plan was successful, several city structures would collapse, burn, bury people alive. Tens of thousands could die. But, if Shepherd’s regime fell, millions more would live.

Corday didn’t want the coffee, he didn’t want to sit in a lavish bloodstained room. He wanted his people to be free. “Claire is in the Citadel. You gave me your word that no attack would commence until she was rescued.”

Nodding, Leslie considered, offering an alternative. “The classified data cubes housed here have blueprints of the Citadel, the underground, even the Undercroft. Take them, study them, chose the most likely locations she might be held. On the day of the attack, I’ll send teams ahead of the blast. It will be a coordinated effort.”

Spinning the golden ring on his finger, twisting it around and around, Corday turned his furious attention to facts. Should the plan succeed, when Claire learned what Corday had agreed to be a part of, she would never forgive him. But if it worked... she would be free. The survivors in the city would be free.

Whispering, aware what she offered was a monstrosity, the beauty urged, “Asking our men to divert their attention from freeing their families to rescue a woman many here see as a traitor would undermine our mission. This is the best I can offer you. Sacrifices must be made, Corday. I think even your Claire would understand that.”

Taking her seat behind the desk, Lady Kantor became nothing but business. “Now, I will be honest with you. You may find things on this data cube you’d rather not know. Don’t dig too deep. Keep to the maps.”

Claire lay fast asleep when Jules’ voice sounded beyond Shepherd’s door. The Alpha had worn her out as he was wont to do. Knowing she was unconscious when he was called away was a small relief in the storming sea of Shepherd’s growing agitation at the interruption.

Jules had not tried to contact him via COMscreen. There was only one reason the Beta would have dared approach and physically knock on the door: Svana.

Slipping silently from the room to see Jules waiting in the hall, Shepherd scowled. His second-in-command stood with many soldiers, ordering them to take up guard outside Shepherd’s door as if war threatened from above.

There was also something very disturbing about the set of Jules mouth when he spoke. “Svana is on the premises. She waits to
parlay
with you.”

The Beta’s word choice was utterly unamusing. As if Claire might hear through the reinforced steel vault she was locked inside, Shepherd spoke lowly in their shared language. “She has been off the grid, out of range of your trackers for weeks. Describe her approach, was it elusive? Apparent?”