Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 68699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
The man slid his arms around her, as if they were sharing a tender moment. He even kissed her forehead. "Someday, you will thank me—surrounded by our children, happy in the life I've provided."
"You want my thanks? Well, there is something I want."
Wary, pinching down her spine vertebrae by vertebrae, he made the question a warning. "Yes?"
Hand to his chest, her warm breath at his neck, she sighed. "When I wandered Thólos, I saw Lilian and the other Omegas dangling outside the Citadel. Would you bury them properly if I asked you to?"
The tilt of his head let her know he was intrigued, that he was weighing the pros of performing such a thing for her. Turning her chin, Shepherd's eyes glittered, his strategy to get the upper hand developing. "I would be willing to grant your concession, if one was made for me in return."
Claire had been disillusioned by this man long ago. Of course he'd want something. "What do you want?"
His gaze grew liquid, like molten iron. "I think we both know what I want."
"I am not going to be tricked into something. Either be exact, or forget my request."
A soft chuckle and Shepherd said, "You have grown even cleverer, my little Omega. Kiss me and I will give you what you want."
"You would have to offer something far greater to entice me to kiss you. Instead, I will offer," Claire pursed her lips and tried to consider, ignoring the way he was moving his warm hand in small circles against her lower back, encouraging negotiation. "I will offer…" She did not really have anything to offer. "I will sing for you."
"No."
"I will paint you whatever you wish."
"No."
She had failed so many; she could at least do one thing for the dead women. Moving her hand to hover over his exposed dick, she faked resolve but her unsteady voice betrayed her. "I will initiate sex at a time of your choosing."
Shepherd looked down between them where her hand was so close, but not near enough. Enticed, he purred, eyes ready to devour her. "That is a far more interesting offer. I choose all three."
Fine, then that was what he would get. "I want proof it was done."
The Alpha grinned, thoroughly smug. "Sing something now, in good faith."
She could do this. "What song would you like to hear?"
Moving her hair behind her ears, Shepherd ensured his view would be unobstructed. "The song you first sang, but no crying this time. You must also look me in the eye as you sing to me."
The ballad began and she sang it the whole way through, Shepherd caressing, purring, seemingly well-satisfied with the arrangement. Claire did not cry, far too eager to have her way.
When she had finished, he was tame… looking at her as he'd looked at Svana. "It could be like this all the time, little one."
She put a hand to his cheek and said softly with a heart hard as stone, "No, Shepherd, it couldn't."
"You will see…" Placid, Shepherd drew her back down to rest. "I will show you."
Everything was soft and warm and fluffy. Claire had no interest in shifting, even for the smell of coffee and the warm hand reaching into her burrow. Shepherd hooked her around the waist and pulled until her messy hair cleared the blue duvet and a bleary-eyed Omega emerged.
The new bed had arrived during her dinner with Maryanne—everything in her favorite shade of blue, everything fresh. Even with the effort the Alpha had made, Claire had not felt an urge to nest for many days. But he kept putting her back in it, taking her from whatever she was doing and burying them both under the covers, caressing her belly to encourage his Omega's thoughts of the baby, until at last it just clicked and she subconsciously began to sniff at him, began to press nearer.
Rubbing sleep from her eyes, Claire sulked, unhappy Shepherd had woken her. A wise man, he gave her a cappuccino and waited for her new morning ritual; his little one peeking, trying to hide her interest in discovering what the picture lay in the foam that day before she sipped and the art was spoiled.
In her cup bloomed an intricate poppy. Claire begrudgingly loved it. "Does the person who makes these have any idea who they're for?"
Shepherd answered with a question. "You ask because of the flower shape?"
"You have to admit, it's a little ridiculous they would give you a drink with flowers in it."
"It is a courtship ritual of Dome culture for the male to offer flowers to the female. I ordered it to be prepared this way."
Internally cringing, Claire sipped the drink and hated that she blushed at his attempted romantic gesture, that he was going to mistake her embarrassment for coyness, that he was already looking at her with an arrogant glow in his eyes.