Shepherd would put them back when he returned.
It was almost a game. That morning, Shepherd raised the stakes. Claire threw one out and woke to find two in its place. When she realized what he'd done, she giggled, a sound that made the secret observer in the corner perk his ears, never having heard her sound for joy. Unaware she had an audience, she threw his things on the floor and burrowed deeper, still laughing.
There was a swat on her rump and she shrieked in surprise. Twisting, shoving the blankets off her head, Claire sat up, hair a mess, and found him standing over the bed, demonstrably dropping the clothing in her lap.
At the blush on her cheeks, Shepherd was the one chuckling, prowling over her to sniff at the bedraggled woman. "You think your rejection of your mate's scent in this nest is funny?"
She had not spoken to him—even to ask the hour—in days. Too tired, too confused, still angry, she frowned, unsure of his tone or intention.
"Is your protest a silent way to communicate your preference for the real thing?"
It seemed almost as if he was flirting. Claire cocked a brow, croaking, "No."
Shepherd fisted the blankets and drew them over their heads, pulling her against him as he rebuilt her burrow. Settling back, hating that he was not taking the proper position and instead looming over her, Claire felt his hand move between them. His fist was pumping, and it took her a minute to realize that he was stroking his cock. A few small grunts, a warning growl when she tried to move away, and his hand moved faster until he groaned low and long. Splashes bathed her naked belly and breasts, fluid pooling until it dripped into the nest and scented the confined space far more strongly than any used shirt.
As if she was in estrous, he rubbed it into her skin, pressed it between her resistant lips, and made sure his seed got everywhere. Something about the act, that he'd done it for his own pleasure and none of hers, left her feeling neglected. He left her as soon as his scenting was done; Claire frowning at his back. Peeking out from her burrow, it took mere minutes before she was tempted to exchange the darkness of her blankets for the subterranean dimness of her cage.
Her bare feet padded silently to the dresser, green eyes sneaking a glance at the Alpha working at his COMscreen. Dressing, oblivious she lacked an urge to wash his semen away, Claire began to do what she usually did in her waking hours underground; she paced. Her joints were stiff from so much sleeping and the walking did little to ease her black mood.
Shepherd seemed content to ignore her; she was trying to ignore him, but as the hour progressed she began unconsciously edging a little bit nearer.
Staring, Claire found his COMscreen bizarre and unreadable. Sighing, bored, she popped her lips and yipped when a great arm swooped out and snatched her out of the blue. Once she was tucked across his lap, Shepherd went right back to whatever he had been doing, trapping her in a cage of overly muscled limbs.
She had been so quiet and he had seemed so focused; it had not been her intention to invite interaction. She squirmed against his chest. "I'm hungry."
An answer came. "No you're not; you're restless and desire attention."
What she was, was irritated. "Why aren't you purring?" The jerk could at least do that. For fuck's sake, it was the only thing he was good for.
Claire could not prove it, but she was fairly certain he was laughing at her, despite his silence. "If I purred, you would not have been coaxed nearer."
Rubbing at the soreness in her shoulder, she narrowed her eyes.
Smirking, he went on, "Your mood swings are mildly amusing, little one."
"What is this?" She gestured toward the screen, unwilling to be baited, and far more willing to be aggravating.
His attention went back to his work. "If you were meant to read it, it would be in your language."
Claire simply rolled her eyes. Lesson learned. She would pointedly keep her distance to avoid this situation in the future.
"No you won't."
When he responded to private thoughts that were none of his business, she snapped, "Stop doing that!"
Ignoring her, Shepherd's finger went to the screen and tapped until something new flashed bright and pretty. Leaning forward, she eagerly reached out to take a hold without thinking. He began to purr and she to smile as she looked at an image of her family.
"Your father was an Alpha." It was clear that that was who had all her attention in the photograph, that it was his face her finger ghosted over. "Your mother was an Omega."
Obviously...
Claire was trying to ignore the distracting man, to focus on something worthy, seeing the patch of blue sky in the background, as they all stood together in the orange grove.