He put the remains down on the room’s only table, took a step back. Spinning the golden ring on his finger, twisting it around and around, Corday turned his furious attention to Leslie Kantor. “If you are wrong, we will unleash the virus.”
“That was my uncle’s argument as well. Well here is mine: consider where Shepherd is from, how he thinks. The man created an army, still recruits to swell his numbers. He wants to rule, he has total control.” Leslie’s passionate words put a stop to Corday’s endless spinning of the ring. “An animal like him would rather die fighting than submit to death by infection. Do you really think he would leave the virus lying around where it might be set loose to ruin all he has built? Even Judicial Sector, once exposed, was purified by incineration protocol. What virus infected those charred halls was destroyed the instant Shepherd’s point was made. The people of Thólos saw the suffering, they saw the flames. But, we have not seen what happened in the Premier’s Sector. Why? Why keep the population in the dark?”
She was as good an orator as her surname implied. Even shaken as he was, Corday could feel a small spark of lost hope threaten to chase away his despair. He wanted to believe she might be right.
“We can end this, Corday.” The Alpha female edged closer, she offered her hand. “Come with me. Help me.”
Possibility warred with the chance that obliteration might lay down the road Leslie would lead him. Something felt wrong, but life was wrong, the resistance had been wrong, and it was time to put his faith in something new.
The Beta took her offered palm and sealed the fate of the Dome.Chapter 2Shepherd ignored the blood drying on his skin, possessed no eagerness to clean the wound Claire’s teeth had created. He left her claiming marks to crust and drip sluggishly, far more intrigued with discovering each crimson drop smeared on his mate—making a game of tracing them once she was spent and exhausted, tangled up in him and slumbering.
When they woke, reeking of sex, Shepherd made no move to bathe before he dressed, proudly displaying the scent of his injury and the smell of his mate on his body. Claire watched from the mess of the nest, a part of her itching to clean away the bloodied sheets and rebuild her burrow. Instead, she sat like a lightning struck tree, reeling from what she had done, awake and aware, and completely confused.
Her determination had backfired. Every part of her had wanted to bite him... no questions asked... even the parts poisoned with resentment for her mate.
Watching him dress, watching him watch her, it was clear whatever she had done in marking him came with consequences more severe than a beating or subjugation. It came with his apparent joy and her budding fear of herself.
How could she have let this happen?
Shepherd knelt before her, startling her from scattered thoughts when a warm, damp cloth was used to wipe her body clean. The complacent male purred for her. “There is no need to be upset by what you’ve done.”
Unsettled, her voice moderate and full of lies, she agreed, “Of course not. I was angry and wanted to hurt you. That was the nearest place I could bite.”
As if she had not spoken such an obvious fallacy, Shepherd continued. “Omegas rarely mark their mates. I am honored you did so.”
The cloth was already stained, hardly doing more than smearing the mess on her chest into little swirls of pink. Aware Shepherd was focusing right over the bond, Claire could not determine if he was trying to soothe or gloat. A massive part of her wanted to slap his hands away and rage, to undo all her hard work with a monumental meltdown.
He who wishes to fight must first count the cost. –Sun Tzu
She suppressed the rage, the disgust and self-loathing, and embraced the fact that backsliding would be both stupid and pointless. Rubbing her eyes, giving herself a moment, Claire tried to come to terms with the new nature of the bond, unsure why she felt so vulnerable when nothing but reassurance was flowing through it.
Testing herself, Claire put her hand on his arm, cupping the bulge of muscle. Shepherd stilled and waited to see what the woman would do.
“I, um,” a wave of burning anxiety made her stammer, “I didn’t mean to bite you... I don’t know what happened.”
Setting the stained cloth aside, Shepherd’s fingers burrowed against her scalp. He tugged gently and purred, did all the things which normally calmed her. “It was possessiveness, little one. I felt what was in you—the longing for devotion and happiness. You feel insecure in my affection, so you placed your mark where others will see.”
Pulling the neck of his shirt aside, Claire inspected skin swollen and scabbed from her bite. “My motivation was not affection when I did this. I was angry, Shepherd. Furious.”