The self-satisfied expression, the fact she knew what was coming—worse still, the fact he could inspire such a declaration—made Claire’s cheeks flame. She would cry out for him, admire him physically with her hands and tongue, but she would keep her words to herself. “We shall see.”
The grin that spread his scarred lips, the absolute hunger in his expression, only added to the Alpha’s excitement. “A challenge from the coy, little Omega...”
For a second, Claire believed he might reach across the table and devour her. Even the way Shepherd breathed as he watched her eat implied his exercise of control warred with his impulse to mount her.
“You seem like you are in an awfully good mood.” Claire thought back to how he had left her earlier, lingering anxiety matching the disapproval in her voice. “What did you do today?”
“Nothing of importance, aside from wondering what would be waiting for me in this room when I returned,” Shepherd purred, charmed by her attempted interrogation. “I think of you often when we are parted.”
Gods, even his scent was dripping sex.
The whole secret lies in confusing the enemy, so that he cannot fathom our real intent. -Sun Tzu
Sucking her lower lip into her mouth, Claire tried to figure out if he was trying to distract her, or mislead her. Looking at him, at the exposed musculature of his chest and arms, she found Shepherd sat with arrogance and authority, as if her regard were his due. Claire cocked her head, she tested. “If you were so eager for the remainder of our bargain, then why are we eating together?”
“Out of respect for my mate. I had fine food prepared and we are engaging in conversation, as you stated you desired... and as Dome culture dictates.”
Claire understood at once, this was not just a shared meal. It was Shepherd’s attempt at another courtship custom—like the foam flowers in her coffee. Pushing her hair behind her ear, her nervous blush deepened.
He exercised the softer expression he saved for the kill. Claire saw it, and knew at once her assessment was correct. Shepherd was, in his way, trying to woo her.
Unsure, Claire murmured, “This is to relax me.”
“Yes.”
“So I perform better for you?”
He gave her a long look that said yes, no, and a thousand other things. Unsmiling, his head just a tick to the side, Shepherd grunted. “You do not appreciate the effort?”
There was definitely a wrong answer, and that was the only one she wanted to blurt out. Biting her tongue, she looked at the shirtless man and said, “You are courting me.”
“According to your customs, yes.”
She was not sure what made her curious, but Claire had to ask, “Wouldn’t they also be your courtship customs?”
The man seemed momentarily at a loss for an easy answer. “There was no concept of courtship in the Undercroft. Men just took what they wanted. Violently.”
All too familiar anger bubbled under her skin, Claire aware that was exactly what he had done to her. “So that is the culture you choose to identify with?”
It seemed like such a simple question, but Shepherd took his time measuring his reply, as if tailoring it in his head first. “I choose to identify with military culture.”
The corner of her lips curled, Claire took another bite, wondering how on earth the crazy man across the table existed.
Shepherd disliked her reaction. “You find my answer unsatisfactory.”
Waving her fork, she stated blandly, “I find it unique. Very Shepherd-like.”
“Explain.”
Claire leaned forward and met his eyes with a harsh look in her own. “You have strong opinions on my culture, have made several claims of our failings and vices... but you do not have a culture of your own. Considering the aspersions you cast, it seems your personal experience with real society is negligible.”
The male straightened in his chair. “I have extensively studied Dome life for many years. I lived above ground and below. I watched, learned, followed, and remembered.”
The man was completely missing her point, or he was redirecting her on purpose. “Have you participated in my society before you tried to ruin it? Only watching doesn’t count. Your military culture, the ethos you created for your Followers, is just Undercroft society tailored to conveniently meet your manifesto.”
Shepherd warned, “We have our own traditions and an honorable philosophy, little one.”
“That’s right, a whole army of honorable monsters who probably roast humans on a spit for fun.”
The man answered with a very droll, “We only do that on high holidays.”
Claire almost choked when Shepherd actually make a joke. Coughing into her hand, chuckling despite herself, she found the male very pleased with himself for rousing her amusement.
She could feel the wheels in his mind turning, understood he had tried to banter in the same manner he’d witnessed between her and Maryanne. It was very strange to witness the way Shepherd’s mind processed and adapted; he was like a sponge that absorbed interaction but didn’t quite know how to apply it. So he practiced, usually falling short. Except that time... that time had been perfect.