Born to be Broken (Alpha's Claim #2)(37)

"If you wish."

His acquiescence was unexpected. Claire uncurled, tried to move her arms, and found Shepherd no longer held her from her goal. She began to play again, the melody slow and wretched. As her fingers roamed the keys, she thought of her mother, the woman who'd sat by her side for hours, patiently teaching her child the one thing she'd taken true joy in. It was an act of love Claire had always wanted to share with her own children, part of the fantasy the Omega had envisioned in her perfect future.

Thoughts of her dead mother led to thoughts of her dead father-to the scent of orange blossoms and remembrance of warm sunshine. Her daddy's laughter had been Claire's favorite sound in the world.

Another male vaguely reminded her of the man; Corday, with his silly boyish grin, his kindness, his patience.

As if Shepherd knew, as if he could tempt her thoughts back to him, he lifted Claire's skirt and caressed her thigh. It felt good, the way Shepherd touched. It felt perfectly nice as the music stirred and her attention relaxed to alter tempo in time with the Alpha's long warm strokes. He grew more daring, and her breath caught when his large fingers explored, teasing in exactly the right spot.

The way he could play her body, the ease with which he parted her folds, how simply her legs spread of their own volition to offer access so he might please her …  sometimes it seemed pure. "That's right, little one."

And that voice, the heat of masculine rasps, why could it have not belonged to someone else? 

A dexterous thumb exposed her clit, circled it as she mewed and stumbled badly through a musical phrase. When thick fingers penetrated languorous and deep, Claire whined, her breath caught, and it was the Alpha's name she panted.

"Shepherd."

The bliss of his fingers slipped away, but in their place he set his member free and gently lifted his mate. He sheathed himself in a slow, deliberate entry. Cock engulfed, the Alpha remained still, set no pace-he only groaned at her ear while Claire instinctively gyrated for her own pleasure.

The heat of his hand returned, plucking at her swollen nub, drawing out whimpers and little stifled cries. Claire no longer knew what she was playing or if it made any sense musically, everything was focused on the building pressure and the comfort of a familiar body. Whatever her hips did, Shepherd's fingers followed. Though his breath was labored and he badly craved to rear up into that tight, little passage, he let her take what she needed.

It was not long before Claire's movements grew erratic. At the sound of the Alpha's desperate moan, she jerked and ground down hard, climaxing so beautifully the world went white.

Shepherd followed on command, drenching her insides in warmth and her favorite scent-something that had become far more gorgeous than the smell of orange blossoms.

Claire didn't cry, for once she did not chastise herself; she simply sat on his lap with the knot fusing their bodies, felt him still spurting in the lingering minutes of his own release, and began to play Bach again-because she had to survive herself, she had to survive to give Corday his chance no matter how badly the odds were stacked against him. And she would not survive if she could not take the comfort Shepherd offered when she was so close to breaking apart again.

The Alpha growled, contented with each exhale. Nestling closer, he held her tight, and enjoyed Claire's pseudo-serenity.

He had won; his mate was allowing their bond to soothe her.



"Gimme your foot," Maryanne barked, shaking a little bottle in her hand with quick jerks of her wrist.

Stuffed full of cake-a huge tiered thing, frosted bird's egg blue and beautifully decorated, a cake that could feed half of Shepherd's army …  that even after their brutal attack on it could still feed half of Shepherd's army-the friends lounged and played at girly things.

Smiling, sitting slumped in her chair, Claire picked up one bare foot and stretched it over to set in her friend's lap. "Why am I not surprised the color you brought is vampy red?"

Maryanne brushed a careful line of paint over Claire's big toe, smirking. "Too sexy for prudish little Claire?"

"Says the girl who slept with every boy we knew … "

"After I left, did you ever cave in and date that that Seymour guy? He had such a crush on you."

Claire groaned and rolled her eyes. "Gods no. I had my dad chase him off when he started sniffing around the house."

Playful eyes glanced up, Maryanne motioning for the other foot. "What about boys in higher academy?"

Claire shook her head. "I was focused on my studies."

"After academy?"

"Geez, you make me sound so boring!"

"So only Shepherd, huh?" Maryanne pretended to focus on her work, spreading the crimson paint carefully. "That's kinda too bad. I mean, think about it. If you have only slept with Shepherd you have nothing to compare it to. He could be awful and you would never know. I bet you wish you'd experimented now … "

Laughing so hard it hurt, Claire struggled to say, "Stop antagonizing him!"

"That's what he gets for eavesdropping on girl talk. There are reasons why women congregate without men …  so we can make fun of them."




 

 

Claire was still laughing, green eyes dancing while innocent Maryanne blew on her toes. "What other interesting things do you have in your pockets?"

"Look who wants presents?" the blonde sang, reaching into her coat for a tube of lipstick.

Unscrewing the lid, Maryanne made a face like an artist creating a masterpiece. Claire leaned forward, puckered, and let her stain her lips a rich berry red.

"Well, I'm not going to lie," Maryanne shrugged, unimpressed. "It's a little trampy on you, but Shepherd might like it."

"It's the same color you're wearing!" Claire snorted, snatching the tube from Maryanne's hands. "I had a lipstick like this once, never had a place to wear it."

"What do you mean place to wear it? You just wear it," her friend replied, settling back in her chair.

Claire's soft smile was gently reprimanding. "That's easy for you to say, Alpha. If you draw attention, being as pretty as you are, you don't have to worry about potential complications."

Yawning, Maryanne shrugged. "That is just silly, Claire-and paranoid. It's just lipstick. And I guess you don't have to worry about that anymore. Ain't no one gonna to be messing with Shepherd's old lady."

Green eyes grew sad. "That's not what I hear is going on outside … "

"What do you mean?"

A guilt-ridden voice confessed, "Women who look like me …  because of my flyer."

"You told her about that?" Maryanne snarled at the hostile male watching from the corner. "What is wrong with you?"

Claire could not see his reaction to her friend's outburst, but knew it couldn't be good. She interjected, "I am not a child, Maryanne. I asked, and he told me the truth."

Maryanne had her own harsh take on things. "None of that was your fault, you know. I thought the flyer was pretty ballsy, but you've got to get it through your thick skull, girl. Thólos is a bad place full of bad people."

"People can change," Claire breathed, knowing it had to be true.

Maryanne cocked a brow and made a hard point. "Do you think Shepherd can change?"

The Omega tilted her head, thinking about it before looking over her shoulder. Her eyes met Shepherd's.

He glanced down at her stained lips, seemingly intrigued.

Standing, she walked, careless of her newly lacquered toes, and went to stand before the male. So many contradictory thoughts were running through her head. His behavior towards her had changed, was far more palatable, but all of that could easily be summed up as an insincere strategy to gain her affection. After all, she was certain there had been no change in him outside their den or in his dealings with Thólos. 

When her small hand reached up and the female cupped his cheek, Shepherd allowed it, unmoving as she stood between his spread legs. His silver eyes shone, focused and pleased with her attention in front of the Alpha female.

Claire pulled in a breath as if to speak, then hesitated, pouting her red lips until he purred and the back of his warm fingers stroked over her belly.

The question was for herself. "Could Shepherd change?"

It was all there in her expression-how badly she wished he could change. How hard she had tried to affect something in him. Whispering, her voice as soft as the fingertips that touched the flesh of his cheek, Claire asked, "Could you change?"

A warm, large hand enclosed hers, gently removing her touch from his face, Shepherd admonished, "You are neglecting your guest, little one." Breathing, blinking out of her trance, Claire took a step back as the male pressed some small scissors into her hand. "I have given her permission to cut your hair, should you wish it."

Looking down at the little instrument, Claire teased Maryanne. "I don't trust her with these. Everything will come out cockeyed."

From across the room, the woman blurted, "How hard could it be?"

Claire smirked, thinking of Maryanne's godawful attempt ten years prior. "That's what you said last time, and may I remind you, those terrible bangs took over two years to grow out."

She moved back to Maryanne and let the blonde trim her hair, fairly certain it would be terrible, and honestly not caring at all if it was. The only thing about the interlude Claire cared about was the COMscreen Maryanne produced; full of photos of the Omegas, and even one of Corday, who was smiling his dimpled grin as he spoke to whoever was just outside the frame. On the smallest finger of his hand sat her gold ring; diminutive, but there.