High-handed, unconcerned with the liberties he took… Shepherd had made his move. Claire saw that now, frustrated that clarity only struck in the wake of his ploys. He wanted her angry, mentioned her impending tantrum especially so she might snarl in indignation.
An angry Claire was not an anxious Claire. And she was angry.
Very angry now that it all sank in.
It was more than just the mess he had made of her nest… again. It was a never-ending pull.
He wanted a tantrum so that she would perform per his strategy, yet he was the one who’d left feathers everywhere. Nests were sacred to Omegas, they were art. Alphas were to admire them and relish the efforts of their mates.
In Thólos, he had respected her nest, encouraged it. Invaded on his whim. Now, they were taken for granted in his pursuit to… what? Annoy her?
His seed flowed down her thighs, a slippery reminder that he had only just fucked her and left. Downy feathers were in her hair, sticking to the mess as it ran down her legs. It would take an army of people to clean this room in the two hours she would sit and practice Greth’s Spanish.
Which would mean strangers near her most sacred space. Many strangers. Their scents would stain the air, a condition no Omega would appreciate.
So she would have to do it herself. Which, of course, he knew she would do.
Which was another reason it was obvious he had made the mess on purpose. Frustrations surging, she reached for her COMscreen and dialed her mate. He answered immediately.
“If you wanted to see a movie, you could have just said, ‘Claire, I want to see a movie about a baker.’ You didn’t need to destroy my house!”
There was no visual, but she could hear the smirk in his reply. “You would have declined the invitation.”
“I am so angry with you right now.” And she was growing more angry by the moment. “Why can’t you just be normal?”
No emotion layered his reply. “Watching a film is normal, little one.”
“You planned this whole thing from the beginning. This was all one big setup!”
“‘Victorious warriors win first and then go to war, while defeated warriors go to war first and then seek to win.’ You should spend more time studying your favorite philosopher if you want to outwit me, Mrs. O’Donnell.”
One hand held the screen, the other tore at her hair. “The fact that you see our marriage as a war tells me that you need to be the one talking to Dr. Osin, not me.”
“I’m at war with your neurosis, Claire O’Donnell.” Utterly calm, as if he had prepared his answers to her anger weeks ahead of time, he said, “You reek of fear at the thought of leaving our home. You refuse the company of others. Your self-imposed solitude is over. I am ordering you to make a friend.”
“You are completely insane!”
“You claimed I am tense lately. Perhaps I would be less tense if my mate were more well.”
Her feelings stung at the barb, Claire aware that even if his COM did not show a visual, he was absolutely watching her. That he saw how her lip shook before she could stop it. “I am not one of your Followers. You don’t get to order me to do anything.”
Darkness promising so many things purred over the line. “Then I shall continue to outwit you. Have fun cleaning up the feathers. I love you, and I will see you at dusk.”
The connection terminated.
Fuming, Claire looked around the wreckage of their bedroom and screamed. Hating that she knew he was still watching her. That he would be watching her all day.
“Wow.” Maryanne leaned back in her chair, baffled and grossed out. Also not entirely sure it would be a good idea to tell Shepherd he had a small white feather in his hair. “You guys sound so normal.”
Tucking away his COMscreen, Shepherd poured such a look on Maryanne that her moxy fled.
Throwing her hands up, she said, “I know you ordered me not to speak, but she’s not on the line anymore. And it’s strange, you know? I have not heard my best friend’s voice in over a year.” Unsure why she had a death wish, Maryanne added, “Why doesn’t she have friends? Claire was always popular. A total teacher’s pet too. Everyone loves Claire, they always have.”
“If you do not report on Jules in the next ten seconds, I will break your neck and replace you.”
Rolling her eyes, Maryanne flicked the screen that held a breakdown of her daily report, including segments of video footage for Shepherd to absorb.
“As you can see, Jules remains in a cell. He receives two meals a day, which he refuses to eat. Despite standard intimidation and bribery, he has also refused to interact with his visitors: identified as Commodore Jacques Bernard and Ancil Vox, Head of Bernard Dome Security—which was ridiculously easy to infiltrate. Whoever is supervising their communications network, they are not reacting to my invasion as a professional would. I don’t think they even know I’m there. I think it’s also relevant to note that Jules has not signaled.”
His cold “You have access to everything?” was not the gold star she felt she earned.
Maryanne should have known better than to expect Shepherd to offer praise for a job well done. “So far. Including the Commodore’s bedchambers. Those videos will give you nightmares.”
Crossing his arms in a way that stretched his suit coat, Shepherd studied the monitors. “Tell me about the woman.”
“The scarred Omega? Her name’s Brenya Perin, the new mate of Commodore Bernard. As noted in previous reports, most surveillance of them are… of a sexual nature.”
“Show me.”
Several monitors filled with recorded examples of the Omega heaving under her Alpha. In all of them, she appeared unresponsive—until the bloom of Alpha coercion manipulated her physiology into an empty shell that stopped resisting and climaxed from the pressure of a knot.
To be honest, Maryanne found it… disturbingly familiar.
Years ago, Claire had come to Maryanne in such a state. Battered, frightened, but there was a clear difference between the two Omegas. Claire had refused surrender. Brenya Perin was the embodiment of defeat.
Glancing at her boss from the corner of her eye, Maryanne knew Shepherd saw it too. His jaw ticking as his unwavering stare catalogued everything.
“Do you want to know what I think, Shepherd?”
Eyes that could see right down to her rotten soul turned from the screen and weighed her down with one unbroken glare.
Her throat bobbed in a swallow, the icy fingers of impending death scratching at her spine. “I think you need to watch this.”
Flicking the controls, the screens went black, the grunts and sounds of sex snuffed out. All that was left was a single monitor offering a cheery, sun-drenched nursery.
“The runtime is one hour, five minutes, and twenty-seven seconds.” Glancing back at the Alpha monstrosity, Maryanne added, “You might want to take a seat.”
Ignoring her offer, Shepherd stood through the entire recording of Brenya Perin having tea with Security Advisor Ancil Vox’s first wife. Maryanne had already watched the video three times, making notations on each timestamped twitch, focusing less on the depressing exchange of two sad women and more on the physical oddness.
“Brenya Perin isn’t neurotypical. She cannot understand nuance or subtlety. She can hardly interact in this social situation without mimicking her hostess. Yet she is counting every single object in the room, unaware that she is doing it.” Those words had already been in her report, but reading an opinion versus viewing it for oneself? “She sees everything and notices nothing.”
Shepherd, it would seem, had come to the same conclusion. “She’s a genius.”
“Annette confronts Brenya for running. The ship your Followers monitored flying toward Thólos three days ago? I think Brenya stole it. That woman piloted a craft with no training, somehow managed to get outside the Dome, was apprehended halfway to Thólos, and was returned mated to the Commodore. Just look at her. She’s battered he bit her twice. The mangled claiming mark on her neck was still bleeding badly enough to leave a decent stain on her dress.”
There was no agreement or negation from Shepherd. He simply waited for Maryanne to continue her report.
“Jules was imprisoned because of her escape. He’s refusing to eat, meanwhile these women are discussing honey and Beta rations.” There was no point in beating around the bush, so Maryanne just admitted she didn’t understand what that meant. “What are Beta rations?”
Shocking the fuck out of her, he actually explained. “Outside of the ruling class, the citizens of Bernard Dome are fed pharmaceuticals from birth to keep them complacent and obedient. That is why Jules is choosing to starve.”
Okay, since they were having a heart-to-heart, she figured she’d do it thoroughly. “Why not just send him home? If he dies, they must know you will end them all. You’re not subtle in your threats, Shepherd.”
“Give me a close up of Ms. Perin’s bite marks.”
“Done.” That had all been prepared, needed only a flick of a key to display the poor girl’s shoulder and neck. “See? He practically ripped her throat in half.”
“I want a full dossier prepared on Brenya Perin. I want to know everything about that female.”
“I’ve already looked.” Maryanne scrambled to change the screens to the little data she’d scrounged up. “They must have scrubbed her file from the census. The only reason I know her full name is because it is mentioned in conversation.”
“You have observed her for days, so answer this. Would Claire feel an affinity for this Omega?”
Maryanne had to snort at that. “Oh Gods, yes, Claire would go full savior mode at one glance of this socially awkward weirdo.”
“I would suggest you speak more kindly of Jules’ mate.”
It had to be a joke. It had to be! After all, Maryanne was cackling at the idea of Jules with a woman. Not only that. “Jules is a Beta.”
Shepherd’s silence was heavy with annoyance and something that almost tasted like grief.
Why on earth Maryanne felt the need to assure him, she didn’t know. “Betas cannot pair-bond. After the Commodore gets his panties out of a twist, they will send him home.”
But Shepherd just kept staring at her.
Stuttering, Maryanne said, “It’s… it’s not possible.”
“Had you spent your time in the Undercroft gathering wisdom, listening to the stories of the men suffering, instead of pissing yourself every time someone screamed, you would have learned that there were a multitude of sordid reasons a man was disposed of instead of murdered.”
The very concept was extremely upsetting, and Maryanne didn’t quite understand why. “Betas cannot initiate pair-bonds. It’s basic biology.”
“His name was Keriman. There was another called Wess. Two men with the same tale. Two men who had never met one another, Keriman long dead before Wess was thrown into the dark. Both Alpha, both having claimed they had been used by powerful Betas who coveted and were tricked into sharing their bond. Their new mates were stolen, and each man was thrown into the Undercroft to suffer until they went mad from separation.”
“I checked the registries after Thólos fell. The Beta named by Keriman married an Omega. She had been institutionalized and died within a year of Keriman’s incarceration. The Omega Wess claimed to have bonded to, a Beta Senator, had set herself on fire… one year after he had been thrown underground.”
“If such a thing were possible, people would know. Everyone would know!”
Except they wouldn’t. No Alpha would submit to such a thing willingly. Nor would powerful Betas be allowed to retain a taboo bond should their Alpha brethren discover what they had done.
Standing tall, Shepherd gave his final order of the day. “Brenya Perin. You will find the traces of her erased registry. I want to know everything.”
The strangest wave of sadness came over her. “If it’s true, Jules won’t ever be able to come home.”
The man had already begun merging with the shadows, yet he hesitated for a simple moment. And that was confirmation enough.
