Reborn (Alpha's Claim 3)

Time affected him differently in her presence. One soft look from her felt like an eternity—one of joy not tedium. She had breathed life into him, restoring whatever the Undercroft had claimed before Shepherd had even been the wiser he’d been deprived.

In that moment, holding her as she slowly woke from his gentle prodding, an hour was not enough.

Regret was not a sensation he was accustomed to, but as he held her on his lap and called for her to wake, to open her eyes so he might see them one last time, he intensely regretted a great many things.

“Look at me, little one.” By the fourth or fifth time he called to her, her lashes parted and glassy green, his favorite shade of green, was there for him to smile at. “I need you to wake up just for a little while.”

Her pupils seemed to focus enough to express he had her attention as she fought the drugs and whispered his name. “Shepherd...”

“Little one,” Shepherd beckoned, “Listen closely. I have to send you away, and I cannot go with you now.” The man felt pressure building behind his eyes when the look of alarm widened hers. “There is a team prepared to escort you to your new home. I will do everything in my power to follow after you, if I can. In case I cannot, an Alpha, his name is Martin, was chosen by me to act as surrogate until our son is born. He is a good man. You will approve of him.”

“NO!”

“I am sorry.” Shepherd heard his voice crack for the first time in his life. His shoulders shook, breath difficult as her tried not to frighten the pleading woman.

Drops of fluid fell from him and landed on her when she grabbed the lapel of his jacket and pulled their faces closer together. “Shepherd,” Claire knew this was not a nightmare no matter how dreamlike the drugs made it feel. She struggled not to slur as she spoke to her grieving mate. “Whatever she has done to force you, just say no. Leave with me now. Chose me, chose your son... and wash your hands of this. It’s not too late.” She sobbed in earnest, kissing him as she begged. “Please.”

“I love you, little one, but I cannot leave. I have a duty—”

“To me!” Claire cried her arms circling his neck, holding onto him with all her strength. “To our son!”

Lips at her ear he tried to explain in a rushed whisper, “Even if I were to leave and abandon my men, I would be a labeled a traitor. Before our ships might even land, you would be slaughtered. You have no idea how powerful this army is, how far each member is willing to go. The only way I can make things right, is fight here so that you and Collin can live.”

His armor was between them, dampening the purr he projected as loudly as he could. Even so, Claire kept pressing closer. Her mouth was on his mark, her tongue swiping up the salt of his sweat.

He knew what she wanted; he wanted it to.

Shepherd pulled off one of her boots, tugging her leg free from clothing so that his mate could climb to straddle him. She wrapping around his body as if she might actually possess the strength to reject his verdict and hold him there. As he caressed her bare buttocks, she reached between them to set his member free. Lowering to accept him, she begged him to stay with her, sliding her body down with no urging from his hands, until he was sheathed root to tip.

He told her he loved her so many times he lost count, brushing his lips over hers, feeling her clench as he rolled his hips up to meet her warm internal embrace. With desperation on both sides, far more wrapped up in the press of their lips, in the war of searching tongues and shared breath, than even the act of mating, each of them tried to communicate why things must be their way.

Shepherd’s hands were buried in her hair. She never once stopped kissing his face, feeling the wetness on his cheek, unsure if it came from her or him. When she came, it seemed almost too soon, and Claire tried to fight it until he murmured, “Please.”

Moaning his name against his lips, calling to her Alpha, climax rolled over her no matter the despair. “Shepherd...”

Shepherd held her tighter, his body shaking with the plea. “Please... just tell me once.”

Even as the waves of pleasure filled her with warmth in her core, even as she felt sexual gratification, her voice broke, and with hitched breath, she met his eyes and sobbed, “You already know I love you.”

His release came, paired with a man pulling in a breath as if it was his first. He looked at her with undying devotion, liquid iron eyes memorizing every last detail of her tender expression, of her heartbreak.