Corrupted (Alpha’s Claim Book 5)

Despite her previous urges to deny Shepherd a proper nest, she built one around him as he snored. Nimbly arranging the wonderfully soft new things he’d provided. Gifts brought before he had come to her in need of comfort only a mate might provide. Claire created a wonder for him to wake in.

Since coming to Greth, she had never seen him so exhausted. Nor had there ever been a situation in which her subtle movements had not instantly jarred him from sleep. For crying out loud, she practically slept like a corpse so the Alpha would get the rest he so clearly needed.

But she refused to worry. Emotions could be controlled and explored later. Right now, she needed to take care of him.

So he could take care of everyone else.

Jules had a new wife now. Shepherd had shown Claire a projection of a woman standing on a balcony, the wind dancing through her hair as she stared into the distance.

A scar dragged down one of the Omega’s eyelids, puckered the flesh of her cheek.

An engaging scar on the face of an interesting woman.

Smiling at the picture, Claire told Shepherd she’d chosen a friend… so he could stop grousing.

“Brenya Havel does not speak your language, and she needs time, little one.” Yet it was clear Shepherd was pleased by her declaration. “You come on strong, and the last year of her life has not been easy. Let’s not overwhelm her.”

“Then I will send a gift. A painting.” She smiled, already knowing exactly which view of her garden to capture. “We can exchange letters.”

It was so rare to catch Shepherd in an open act of contemplation. Which left Claire grinning as he looked to the side and pondered. “You could prepare for her your favorite Omega information.”

“Omega information?” Chuckling before she nipped his chest, Claire hummed in the exact pitch that would make his eyes heavy. “Sure. I’ll put together a manual.”

It was meant to be a joke, but the way Shepherd looked at her…

“She was the first Omega in Bernard Dome in generations. It would be a kindness to give her some perspective.”

Claire reeled, trying to imagine what life might have been like without a sisterhood of Omegas to guide her. A mother, Nona, all the women she had met with in secret because their lives required safety in numbers and vigilance.

“The Alpha who forged the bond. He hurt her,” Claire whispered. Because of course he did. He wouldn’t know what to do any more than Brenya might.

It was a situation that almost deserved pity for the male.

“A letter—some advice, from the wife of Jules’ friend.” Yawning, Shepherd finished with, “Articles you enjoy could be translated….”

Increasing the volume of her hum, Claire watched her mate’s eyes close. Snores were instant.

His COM? She stole it. He could have it back after he slept more than three hours straight.

One of the most beautiful nests an Omega might create when their Alpha was already in it came to life. Claire, humming so loud she would be hoarse later.

He needed this.

The man had been away for almost two full days. She knew he had not slept, that his focus had been on the situation with Jules.

The sun rose, Claire tucked to the side of a sleeping giant. No tutors dared interrupt. Together, they dreamed until dusk.

She bathed. The time spent on her unruly hair… recognizing how badly she needed a trim. How long had it been since she’d cut her hair? Ends crunching between her fingertips, she frowned.

Thólos.

She could think of that place now without vomiting, not that it didn’t sour her stomach all the same.

Making a mess of it, Claire tried to tidy up the split ends by herself. Even with jagged edges, she looked in the mirror and saw something that mattered.

She saw herself.

Green eyes. Scars that would be covered by a pretty dress. Black hair. Pale skin. Cowardice.

“My name is Claire O’Donnell. I am the wife of Shepherd O’Donnell. Our son’s name is Collin. And he would have been two this month.”

Sucking in a deep breath, she looked herself in the eye and stated, “I am going to a movie. Everything will be okay.”

When Shepherd woke, she was already in the kitchen. Trying out another concoction that might make his green sludge taste less like rotting garbage.

Smiling at a man with his hair sticking in every direction, Claire circled the counter to press a kiss to his lips. “Shepherd O’Donnell, would you like to take in a film with me tonight?”

The man’s agitation… Claire was used to it. She even smirked when he accused, “You took my COM.”

With obnoxiously wide eyes, Claire teased, “I called Dr. Osin and enacted Project Baker.”

Rumbling, Shepherd narrowed his eyes. “You should not go through my COM.”

“Is that really what date night was called?” Cackling from the look on his face, tears came to Claire’s eyes. “I was joking!”

Handing him a large glass filled with the most unappetizing shade of green Claire might imagine, she said, “Bottoms up. We are expected within the hour.”

Because it needed to be said, Claire explained to the man chugging down a meal that no blend of fruit or herbs might ever make palatable, “And to be clear, I am not talking to anyone but you.”

One stiff hand hosted a chilled coupe sparkling with a pink drink. Claire’s other palm gripped tightly to Shepherd’s hand, their fingers interlaced. Sweating profusely, she hid her body behind her mate’s mass and peered around him to soak up the quaint cobblestone courtyard.

Pruned shrubbery outlined the formal shape of the space. Wrought iron tables displayed an array of snacks. Cushioned chairs had been prepared for relaxing.

Candles flickered, casting soft light that warmed the evening air.

Not that the courtyard needed warmth. Greth Dome was downright balmy, sticky hot with the season as if the sweltering temperatures of the jungle seeped in—just as snow had once seeped into Thólos.

Yet it was always darker in this new place.

Endless fields of glittering white had made the sun shine so bright in Thólos’ eternal winter. Sometimes… it had been blinding.

Greth was softer on the eyes, despite the bright colors favored by its people.

“Little one, where would you like to sit?”

Speechless, aware of the irony, considering it had been her decision to contact Dr. Osin and order the event. Claire didn’t even know where to begin.

Her husband had planned this down to the last twinkling bulb. She could never pretend it was not extremely pretty and very sweet.

“I think I’d like to stand.” Claire took a sip of the drink in her hand. Pulling back from the coup with a look. “This has alcohol.”

“It’s a local drink, a Caipirinha, with muddled strawberries.”

Tongue tracing a bottom lip sweetened by sugar, Claire admitted, “I can’t even remember the last time I had a cocktail in public.”

All male, grumbly with the pleasure of seeing his female enjoy herself, her husband swelled with pride. So much so, he might actually have burst out of his shirt.

Teasing, she held the drink up in offer. “Want to try it?”

“Yes.” Shepherd fell upon her, taking her lips to suck them clean and then delving deeper to capture every last trace of sugar.

He kissed her as if he didn’t care who might see or how vulnerable they might be when distracted. And then he kissed her some more.

Bending her back with the heat of his kiss, he drank deep—filled her with breath when she gasped for air, and invaded her mouth with his tongue.

Claire… had never been kissed in public. Modest and blushing when he pulled back to take the drink from her hands and swallow.

Suddenly shy, she glanced at the party of strangers to see who might be watching. “I feel like I’m being courted.”

“Hmm.” The man who had woken in her perfect nest and drank his gross dinner grinned.

Shepherd grinned.

“Stop that! You’re making me nervous.”

“I love you, little one.”

Rubbing at her breastbone, Claire offered a very distracted reply, “Yeah, yeah, I love you too. But please stop that. It’s not safe.”

Because if she dripped slick, terrible things would follow. An Omega could never, ever, be aroused in public. She had not committed to this to inspire a bloodbath.

“Claire.”

She’d heard him speak, but she was still checking every corner, praying nothing might drip from her vagina to scent the gusset of her panties.

“Claire,” Shepherd called to her with more force. “Take a deep breath.”

She did on command, not that she would do anything else.

“You are safe.”

Panting, already pulling away, she said, “I think we should leave.”

“Take another deep breath.”

Was he out of his mind? They were outside. In a courtyard. All courtyards in Thólos had been brimming with decomposing corpses. Bodies would have been swinging from the pretty trees. “Will you please stop!”

“One more breath. Hold it and count to six.”

Tears were running down her face, Claire not even sure why. “Gods, Shepherd. We have to go home—”

“Please don’t be afraid. The other women here will look to you, and they are frightened too.”

Unable to bring herself to glance beyond the hands pressed to her face, Claire sobbed.

How had she become this pathetic woman? This frightened rabbit who jumped every time a glass clinked or soft laughter filled the air?

What happened to the woman who had trimmed her hair, who had styled it similar to a fashion she had seen on her COMscreen?

What happened to the fierce mother of Collin who had survived Thólos?

“You’re doing well, little one.”

Embraced in the massive arms of her mate, she ruined the front of his pressed shirt. Not that he would ever care. Shepherd just purred for her. He gave her time.

When the panic began to pass, she pulled away, embarrassed and certain she would never leave her house again.

But a smiling older Omega pressed a fresh drink to her hand, kissing her on both cheeks in a style Claire had only seen in the programs on her COM.

And Shepherd had let her.

Hand shaking so hard the ice hit the side of the glass, Claire took a sip.

It did taste like strawberries.

And sugar.

Lime.

And a sort of liquor that had never slipped over her tongue before.

Huge thumbs swiped over pink cheeks, Shepherd praising her bravery and unabashed about how loudly he did so.

The shift was not immediate, but it was measurable.

Feeling came back to her fingers, then her legs. Thankfully, her dress left her arms and back bare, her sweat hardly making a mark.

Staring up at a man who could exercise remarkable kindness, Claire whispered, “You need a haircut.”

And they laughed.

Because he had seen the tufts of black hair she had left all over their bathroom floor.

Slate gray, iron gray, the gray of a freshly polished silver, the most beautiful eyes she had ever seen—he who stood amongst the social gathering, dressed like a regular man, asked, “Are you ready?”

Heart pounding so hard it hurt, Claire swallowed down another sip of sweetness, quoting Sun Tzu, “Can you imagine what I would do if I could do all I can?”

“Yes, Claire.” Stroking his hand down her spine as he turned her toward the sparkling courtyard, he said, “That is why I fear you above all others.”

“You’re not funny.”

“You think I am funny.”

Smirking, she took another step over cobblestones and moved nearer where other couples were engaged in their own conversations. Then it sank bone-deep. Shepherd won every war he’d ever waged.

Thólos fell. It ate itself just like he’d wanted it to. Greth now belonged to him.

What would he have done to this place if he had found no Omega mate in Thólos?

What would he have done to the world had they never met?

If Svana had…

He certainly would not have filled courtyards with happy people and the sweet smell of freshly baked things. There wouldn’t be pink drinks. The man didn’t care if the air were chilled or balmy, if the music were vibrant or morose. He would never care for the taste of good food unless she held up her fork and offered him a bite from her plate.

Shepherd craved only her.

Moreover, the villain would never deny it.

Patient, utterly still, Shepherd allowed Claire to stare at him in full understanding, purring as if he knew she finally realized her place in the world. Yet the almost unbearable weight of his silver eyes said, “You love me, and there is no undoing it. I love you so fiercely you will never be free of me.”

“Shepherd…” Swallowing, her mouth suddenly dry, Claire tried to find the words. “The responsibility of containing you is more than I can handle right now.”

Unmoved, he offered a simple smile.

Where other breathing humans could see.

Gulping at her drink, Claire gawked at him over her glass.

“The woman in the striped dress,” Shepherd began. “Her name is Regina. The man speaking to her is Phillipe. After his arrest five years ago, she was locked in a brothel frequented by powerful men. When Thólos fell, he climbed free of the Undercroft, found her, and then went on a rampage to kill every man whose name was on the books for having rented his mate.”

Green eyes observed the distant couple, who spoke with smiles, sipping their drinks. They looked happy.

He looked every bit the jaded, scarred, and marked Follower. A killer. Yet it seemed it was she who offered comfort by leading the interaction, by gently touching his arm.

As if being here was difficult for him and necessary for her. Like Shepherd, he didn’t want his mate out of his immediate eye line, but wanted to give her this.

A simple movie with others. An opportunity for… normal.

For a woman who had suffered what Claire had only known for one horrendous day.

Nearer a planter blooming with red poppies and vaulted by a pretty fruit tree, a reticent female stared anywhere but at the decidedly unattractive face of the Alpha at her side.

Claire asked, “Who is that?”

“Guadalupe. Newly mated and frightened.” Shepherd put an arm around Claire so they might observe together. “I have known him for twenty years. You will not find a better man.”

That remained to be seen.

As if he could read her thoughts, Shepherd added, “Peter is madly in love. Has been from the first time he saw her in the market. He courted, offered, and won.”

“Won?”

“Her bond.” Said with such innocence it was clearly pure bullshit.

Warning him with a tone that brooked no refusal, she growled, “Shepherd….”

“Ask her yourself if you desire the details.”

Now, he was starting to piss her off. “I can smell her fear from here.”

“She can smell yours as well.”

The nest she had built for him, she was going to rip it apart herself once they got home. “You think it’s funny to parade rape in front of me?”

“I think you should get to know Peter before you judge him by his face.” After audibly cracking his neck, Shepherd added, “And if you are feeling magnanimous, you should get to know Guadalupe as well.”

There was no reason to keep her voice down. “You are trying to pin the problems of your inept Followers on me!”

Shepherd, patient and gentle, cuddled her closer. “I am trying to entice you to teach me what is to be done when watching a film. I have never seen one in a public setting before.”

Instant guilt, laced with extreme suspicion. “Honey, if you want a normal experience, don’t title the mission Project Baker.”

“Noted.”

“I can’t help your Followers,” she added, just to make sure he understood that she was going to return home when this was done and burrow.

“Guadalupe has studied horticulture her whole life. She is coming to plan the new layout for the orange trees I have prepared for your garden.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“Shush. The movie is starting.”