Chapter 1
Collar of his coat flipped up to protect his neck from the growing cold of the halls, Shepherd returned at last from being called away by his soldiers. He found his mate nervous, the acrid scent of Omega fear spoiling the air. But, mostly she was expectant and blissfully unaware of just what was going on above ground.
And he would never tell her.
Shepherd made no move to approach the panicky woman, he simply stood as Claire looked him over from boots to skull. The Omega searched out any hint of what had called him from her, looking for blood splatter, or the swelling of his knuckles, relieved when she found nothing out of the ordinary.
His Claire was angry, but far more reassured that he’d returned seeming normal.
When the Omega stepped forward to touch him, to initiate what had to be done to seal their bargain, Shepherd spoke. “You are hungry, little one. We will eat first.”
We will eat first?
Shepherd did not go to the door to fetch food. Instead, he went to where he stored his clothing and began pulling off his coat, armor, and boots. Bunched muscles flexed, he pulled his shirt over his head, handing it to her. Unthinkingly, Claire took it and put it, as he expected, in her nest.
Distracted by the task, the Omega chewed her lip, taking time to arrange the scented fabric and remove something old to be washed.
A knock sounded, Shepherd barked for the visitor to enter.
Jules came in with their food, set it down and left in seconds—the trivial familiarity he shared with Claire completely concealed by his indifference. She found it minorly amusing, especially the way Shepherd shifted to put his body between her and the Beta.
When the door closed, Claire found it very difficult to suppress a snort.
“What is funny?” the male growled, narrowing his eyes.
“You are funny, Shepherd.” Claire arranged herself at the table. “That man has brought me meals dozens of times when you are not here—so you must trust him. Yet there you are, glaring at him as if he were not your friend. You have serious issues...”
Shepherd only grunted in answer. Dressed only in trousers, he came to the table. “It is a natural reaction for an Alpha to guard his Omega from dangerous men.”
But not dangerous women...
Glancing at the food, Claire felt wholly disillusioned. She began to comprehend what was going on, what he had arranged for himself. This, the meal, was a show—a show where she was not spectator, but entertainer. She was expected to perform for the man lowering himself into the seat across from her. Reminding herself their agreement only required she initiate sex, nothing more, she picked up her fork and chose not to argue. Instead, Claire focused on the beautiful dinner, the male mirroring her movements and tasting the food.
It seemed awkward, the silence, and out of habit and good manners, Claire found herself wanting to make small talk, knowing it would be both pointless and something Shepherd would not respond to.
Except, he began it. “I have been told this is one of your chef’s most famous dishes.”
Cocking a brow, Claire looked up from the steamed fish and nodded, momentarily confused. “My chef? You do not eat his cooking?”
“Her cooking, and no.”
That seemed strange. “What do you normally eat?”
“What my men eat. Communal food amongst those who’ve endured the Undercroft bears an importance I do not expect you to understand or submit to.”
There were a great many things about the man she didn’t understand.
Seeing that the woman was puzzled and still tense, Shepherd offered a modicum of explanation. “After years subsisting off mold, our digestive tracts have altered. Followers’ diets must be bland, and the required nutritional additives have an unpleasant taste and smell. The bulk of my meal was consumed before I returned to you. This is… supplementary.”
Was that why he never ate in her presence? She looked at the beautifully arranged plate. “Well, considering all your other physical attributes, I think it’s only fair you have one restriction.”
The male smirked, gratified. “Physical attributes?”
“You are very tall,” Claire quipped flatly, taking another bite, not at all interested in padding the Alpha’s ego.
His foot bumped hers under the table. “List another attribute.”
Dodging Alpha pride was something Claire had years of experience with. “You are bald. It must save time not combing your hair.”
Narrowed eyes matched his agitated reply. “I shave my head.”
Claire sneered, pleased her slight had pricked him, and took another bite of dinner.
“You are playing with me, little one,” he added, intrigued, once he saw her mischievous expression.
Gesturing with her fork, Claire explained. “You’re arrogant enough. I am not going to feed that beast.”
Shepherd countered, his own evil smirk appearing. “You will later. When I move inside you tonight, you will hum about my prowess and strength… You will want to say all those things and more.”