Chapter 13
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.