Shepherd needed.
She felt physically ill, plagued by all the anger bearing down on her from the male. The link was aflame, her eyes pricking. When she could bear no more, Claire leaned up, her humming ended, and she put her fingers to Shepherd’s chin. His face was turned away, the man pointedly looking elsewhere. Silver eyes were boring a hole into the wall instead, and even Shepherd’s scent was full of the warning musk of imminent violence. So Claire sat up and began to sing to him, a soft song in a pre-Dome language she suspected he would find pleasure in.
The fire of his eyes jerked in his skull and settled on the little thing straddling his chest. He growled at her, not sexually, but with immense threat. Her voice did not waver, the song continued, and with strength of purpose she lured him. The beast continued to watch, to follow the movement of her mouth, and Claire saw his neck twitch, saw him swallow and fractionally relax.
The last refrain passed her lips, the music ended, and she did not start again.
With a voice grainy and dark, Shepherd demanded lowly, “Do you know the meaning of those words?”
“I have a general idea.”
“You sang that you loved me, that I was the one you longed for—that you would grow old in my arms.”
“It was just a song, Shepherd, sung for a man who was angry and needed to take a breath.”
Bitter eyes watched so very carefully. “And so you are offering your mate comfort.”
Claire had touched him, she had petted him, she had done it all for that very reason. “You once told me that bruised emotions would not serve me. They will not serve you either.”
One hand unfisted, meaty fingers reaching up to twist around a strand of midnight hair hanging over her breast. “You are far too clever, little one.”
Not clever enough to have failed to notice something so important sooner. “I want to know about Svana.”
“And you wish to offer some trade with me for knowledge?” he growled derisively, angry, because he could see plainly what his mate thought to bargain with.
“You could just tell me,” Claire added, absolutely serious.
“I could.” A malicious light turned his expression to evil, the pad of his thumb ghosting over her lips. “But I won’t.”
He was expecting her to deny him, pushing her so she would drop the subject and he could win with minimal effort. But she couldn’t. The very fact he was reluctant to discuss what he sensed in her thoughts made it clear it was something she needed to know.
Her purpose had not been forgotten.
Thinking back on the conversation with Maryanne, the idea of redemption, Claire frowned and asked him softly, “Could Shepherd change?”
“No, little one. In this I could not.”
And it was so heartbreakingly sad. Feeling her eyes well, looking into the face of her captor and her Alpha, Claire met mercurial eyes harboring an expression caught between insult and reassurance.
She drew a deep breath and offered the only thing she had left. “If you answer all my questions, I will give you your kiss.”
Voice cold as death, Shepherd spoke. “It is not so simple, Claire. If you wish to speak of our history, to know of my Followers’ inner workings, then you must prove you are dedicated to me in every way. I will need much more than a kiss.”
But she had nothing else to give him.
Shepherd stated plainly, “You will tell me every detail of this plot you’ve thought to carry out against me.”
She shook her head, scowling slightly. “What plot? You know what I want.”
“You are lying, little one. You think you have been cunning in the war you wage. But I have decades of experience and have outmaneuvered your every move. There will be no negotiation. Either you give me what I want, or I tell you nothing.”
Claire did not even hesitate to lay out exactly what she desired. “I want you to fail in Thólos, Shepherd. That is not a secret. Even pair bonded to you, even carrying your child, I would stand
She felt physically ill, plagued by all the anger bearing down on her from the male. The link was aflame, her eyes pricking. When she could bear no more, Claire leaned up, her humming ended, and she put her fingers to Shepherd’s chin. His face was turned away, the man pointedly looking elsewhere. Silver eyes were boring a hole into the wall instead, and even Shepherd’s scent was full of the warning musk of imminent violence. So Claire sat up and began to sing to him, a soft song in a pre-Dome language she suspected he would find pleasure in.
The fire of his eyes jerked in his skull and settled on the little thing straddling his chest. He growled at her, not sexually, but with immense threat. Her voice did not waver, the song continued, and with strength of purpose she lured him. The beast continued to watch, to follow the movement of her mouth, and Claire saw his neck twitch, saw him swallow and fractionally relax.
The last refrain passed her lips, the music ended, and she did not start again.
With a voice grainy and dark, Shepherd demanded lowly, “Do you know the meaning of those words?”
“I have a general idea.”
“You sang that you loved me, that I was the one you longed for—that you would grow old in my arms.”
“It was just a song, Shepherd, sung for a man who was angry and needed to take a breath.”
Bitter eyes watched so very carefully. “And so you are offering your mate comfort.”
Claire had touched him, she had petted him, she had done it all for that very reason. “You once told me that bruised emotions would not serve me. They will not serve you either.”
One hand unfisted, meaty fingers reaching up to twist around a strand of midnight hair hanging over her breast. “You are far too clever, little one.”
Not clever enough to have failed to notice something so important sooner. “I want to know about Svana.”
“And you wish to offer some trade with me for knowledge?” he growled derisively, angry, because he could see plainly what his mate thought to bargain with.
“You could just tell me,” Claire added, absolutely serious.
“I could.” A malicious light turned his expression to evil, the pad of his thumb ghosting over her lips. “But I won’t.”
He was expecting her to deny him, pushing her so she would drop the subject and he could win with minimal effort. But she couldn’t. The very fact he was reluctant to discuss what he sensed in her thoughts made it clear it was something she needed to know.
Her purpose had not been forgotten.
Thinking back on the conversation with Maryanne, the idea of redemption, Claire frowned and asked him softly, “Could Shepherd change?”
“No, little one. In this I could not.”
And it was so heartbreakingly sad. Feeling her eyes well, looking into the face of her captor and her Alpha, Claire met mercurial eyes harboring an expression caught between insult and reassurance.
She drew a deep breath and offered the only thing she had left. “If you answer all my questions, I will give you your kiss.”
Voice cold as death, Shepherd spoke. “It is not so simple, Claire. If you wish to speak of our history, to know of my Followers’ inner workings, then you must prove you are dedicated to me in every way. I will need much more than a kiss.”
But she had nothing else to give him.
Shepherd stated plainly, “You will tell me every detail of this plot you’ve thought to carry out against me.”
She shook her head, scowling slightly. “What plot? You know what I want.”
“You are lying, little one. You think you have been cunning in the war you wage. But I have decades of experience and have outmaneuvered your every move. There will be no negotiation. Either you give me what I want, or I tell you nothing.”
Claire did not even hesitate to lay out exactly what she desired. “I want you to fail in Thólos, Shepherd. That is not a secret. Even pair bonded to you, even carrying your child, I would stand
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