Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 63920 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 320(@200wpm)___ 256(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63920 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 320(@200wpm)___ 256(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
Through the entirety of the knot, Shepherd touched her as if she could not be real, kissing every part of her face. Petting, stroking, as if the memory of her flesh was something he could carry with him if he just caressed a little longer, lingered a little more.
The mating, the purrs, the worshipful touching, blended with the power drugs. Before he could leave her womb, his Claire had fallen back into the slumber of her drug-induced sedation. He embraced her so powerfully she would be bruised, so that when she woke up and he was dead, she would know he had been with her.
Aware time was short, he placed her folded portrait of him into her jacket’s inner pocket, the back of the painting covered in a hastily scribbled note. Her clothing was righted, boot returned to her foot and laced. Then there was one final thing he told her, a thing he had never once said in his life to anyone else but her, not even to Svana. He told her again that he was so very sorry. And then he whispered the name Claire had chosen for their son; he called to Collin while palming the small sign of life and said the same to him.
With not even a minute to spare, Shepherd hoisted her up and carried her to the elevator where a hand-selected team waited to escort his mate and heir out of hell. Amongst his brothers stood the Alpha surrogate Jules had suggested weeks ago: Martin, a man who had stood outside his door for months on guard... a surrogate Shepherd had approved, though he hated doing it.
Handing her over to another man, even one as respected as the Follower standing before him, was almost impossible. Not killing that man when Shepherd’s red eyes viewed Claire in his arms was even harder. Martin had read her dossier, he knew what to expect and what Shepherd’s orders were in regards to how she must be treated—like a queen.
Looking the man dead in the eye, Shepherd snarled, all traces of softness gone, “She is going to be exceptionally difficult when she wakes. If she refuses food, force feed her if you have to. Do not allow her to harm herself in her temper. Should it reach a point where she is out of your control, and it will, explain to her that I told you to call her a little Napoleon. She will be shocked, she will cry, and then she will calm down.”
The Follower nodded his understanding. “Yes, sir.”
Shepherd cocked his head, signaling that they must close the door and make their way to the Citadel’s launch pad.
As the elevator door rolled down between them, Shepherd caught it with one darting hand and leveled the full power of his intimidation on the surrogate, adding, “Under no circumstances are you ever to strike her.”
“I understand, brother,” Martin answered, stoic yet honored. There was even a spark of compassion in his eyes. “I will treat her as if she was my own.”
Shepherd dropped the door and knew it was over. As he walked back to Command, he counted down the seconds like a madman. He knew exactly how long it would be to launch, the exact amount of time before Claire would be airborne.
She’d teased him for that skill time and again.
Back at Command Center, he felt the first building tremors of the launch, video confirmation showing eleven glowing ships lighting up the pre-dawn sky over the broken glass of Thólos Dome.
Stage one of operation Exodus had been a success, and even though the men left behind stood little chance of survival, they cheered for their brothers who thrived.
Shepherd sighed and refocused on the problem at hand, unaware Claire had never made it to the ships.
Svana had made certain of it.
Chapter 11
Maryanne Cauley had everything she needed: generators, enough fuel to last her for years, food, water, clothing, medicine—everything a person might need to survive the apocalypse.
Tucked safely in her sanctuary, she could hear the wind howling like a freight train outside, and chose to ignore it. Huddling next to a heat source, she kept the lights off, so no other soul might realize she had power when they had none. There was no reason to peek out her window or unbolt her door, her COMscreen told the tale of what was going on outside. The Dome had been purposefully ruptured. The networks had gone wild, computer viruses plaguing every last corner.
She knew how to work around them.
The hacks were inexpert, yet so numerous that it took her some time to recognize that Shepherd’s men were not responsible for the disaster. In fact, she could see that they had their hands full trying to clean up the communications mess.
One dangerous message continuously rolled across her screen:
People of Thólos, the rebel forces are in possession of the virus. Storm the Citadel, destroy our enemy.