"The price you are exacting from yourself is not yours to pay. It is Thólos's."
She was getting angry. "I am Thólos, Shepherd. Born and raised here. I grew up here. My parents are buried here."
"Look at yourself in the mirror, Claire O'Donnell." The male reared up as he spoke. "You are an Omega, physically small and weak, yet incredibly intelligent. That said, however shrewd you may be, you are also foolish enough to think you must bear the burden of others' sins… That is your true flaw. The psychological trauma you are causing yourself is both immature and pointless. It does nothing to change the scenario. And though I am honored you would consider the thought of my redemption as worthy, it is your own peace you need to focus on now. Self-pity and playing the martyr help no one."
The woman gave a caustic snort. "Well, I failed at playing the hero."
In a voice that was hard and assertive, Shepherd snarled, "But you didn't, and you know it. Forty-three people are alive because you had the nerve to stand up to me. You won, Claire. No single adversary has ever beaten me before. Ever. Take your victory."
It was not that simple, not when the world and her mind were in a constant state of turmoil. Not when she was only breathing to buy time.
In the midst of chaos, there is also opportunity. - Sun Tzu
Rubbing her lips together, she felt the unfamiliar slide of lipstick and met Shepherd's eyes again. "The lipstick is trampy."
"And your hair?"
"Looks nice."
"And the dress?"
"Is something I would never have chosen for myself in a thousand years. I look like the poster girl for a pre-plague Omega housewife—which I suppose is fitting, as I am barefoot and pregnant."
"Are you attempting comedy?" For once the man actually sounded unsure.
Claire smirked and shook her head in the negative.For days she wasted paper while the Alpha stared, watching her paint her promised portrait for him. Claire was beginning to suspect that Shepherd was trying to drive her crazy with the constant appraisal of her work. But there was a method to his madness, even Claire understood that. He was forcing her to look at herself over and over, until it was no longer quite so nausea inspiring, until it was her face on the paper and not some unknown woman Claire had conjured up.
A deep breath, the type that preceded some grand speech the bastard was going to make, passed Shepherd's lips. Claire's eyes shot up, blazing warning as she snarled, "I swear to the Gods, Shepherd, if you say one thing about this painting, I am going to scream."
Undaunted, he cocked an eyebrow and stated, "I want you to paint yourself smiling more."
Pounding her fist on the table, biting back the rising noise in her throat, Claire let out a stream of obscenities so vulgar the man began to laugh. Paint-stained hands balled up the picture, Claire throwing it right in his face. Then it was her turn to laugh at the absolute look of murder in his eyes.
Popping her lips, grinning impishly, she reached for another piece of paper and ignored the swelling, angry male. Innocently, she dipped the brush and began the outline again, painting the same smug grin she was wearing at that moment. When the basic form was drawn, she arrogantly held it up, and watched him narrow his eyes and appraise.
Before he could speak, a knock came to the door and a man whose voice Claire didn't recognize spouted off something in their language. Shepherd's attention focused on what he was hearing, the Alpha already standing as he replied in kind.
Shepherd immediately began pulling on his armor.
A strange anxiety twisted in her stomach, this situation not having arisen before. Watching him dress for battle at a summons and not simply because he was leaving for the day, meant something was going on—something that could be dangerous to him, to Thólos, to anyone.
"You do not need to be concerned, little one." There was a smile in his voice.
When Claire's eyes darted up to meet his, she found him collected and calm. But she felt incredibly uneasy, all humor from only a few moments ago evaporating. "What's going on?"
The purr began. Shepherd pulled on his coat and came to where she sat, alarmed and stiff. Stroking the line of her jaw, he explained, "There is nothing. I simply lost the hour playing your game with the paints."
He was lying; the man always knew what time it was without the presence of a clock. "I don't believe you."
Ignoring her accusation, he cracked his neck and looked down at his worried mate. "I will be back shortly, and when I return, I expect to receive the remaining portion of our agreement."
She fought to maintain an impassive expression while Shepherd traced her lips with his thumb and leveled upon her a liquid gaze brimming with lust and ravenous expectation. He dipped his thumb between her lips, growled richly as if he was about to fuck her, and left her sitting in a little pool of slick.