And there it was—deep anger.
Old anger that had come on so strong, so acidic, she found a part of herself was itching to slap him.
Claire realized… she wasn’t traumatized by the night’s events. She was livid.
Furious.
Especially when she recognized he’d set an overflowing vase of red poppies—like some kind of fucked-up peace offering—on her counter.
“Where the fuck have you been?” She pulled a flower from the arrangement and threw it at him. Then another. “Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been? Don’t you drink that! Stop! You don’t get to sip my shakes after five hours with no word. I don’t see fires outside the windows. I don’t hear screams!”
“You did really well, little one. So well.” And he looked so proud of her, silver eyes shining and warm.
“Stop! No, you don’t get to tell me how well I did!”
Shepherd dared smirk. “The door was unlocked. You could have come out.”
As if he were proud of himself for not locking her in.
Eye twitching, Claire ground her teeth and sucked in a deep breath to scream, “Don’t play your games with me, Shepherd! If I had stepped one toe out of this home, you would have abandoned whatever urgent thing you were doing, and I’d have to live with the consequences of pulling you away from your emergency. I can’t even call you, when I have no idea what the consequences might be if you’re distracted by your mate! And you smell like you took a shower!” Shrill, her voice grew louder. “Why? What smell did you wash off?”
And that’s what it was. That’s exactly what had set her off.
The lack of story in his scent. A cover-up of something that would have upset her.
And while her mind ran wild with horrors, with murder and mayhem and the suffering of innocents, he answered, calm as ever, daring her anger. “I was with Maryanne, who has been spearheading an important project for Jules. She summoned me to her observation deck to report on unrest in Bernard Dome. Her concerns are supported. Civil war is imminent.”
“Of course it is! You put your hands all over it,” Claire snarled, mean. Meaner than she had been in ages. “What have you done, Shepherd?”
“Jules intends to liberate the slave class, and Maryanne is required to assure his success. As the satellite relays will be cut off when war begins, she requested a ship so she might fly directly to Jules and assist him on the ground. She has chosen to go, and I have chosen to allow it. During our time apart, I outfitted a ship with all she would need and monitored the flight.Nothingtroubling is taking place here. You are safe. Very safe. Perfectly safe. This will not touch you or Greth. But I knew if I returned smelling of your old friend, it might upset you even more than I anticipated you already would be.”
“You… You let Maryanne leave the Dome?” No, something wasn’t right here. Maryanne was not reliable. She was not a Follower. She would not help the people of Bernard Dome.
This was one of his misdirections. One of his philosophical tricks. Deceit was layered somewhere in his reasonable explication, but silver eyes betrayed nothing.
Her lip shook. She wrung her hands and picked apart the problem in her stirred-up thoughts.
The answer so obvious that when she hit upon it, her face went ashen.
And then it went red.
“You lying liar!” Another handful of red flowers was thrown at his chest. “You didn’tletMaryanne do anything. You’reusingher!” Her voice had gone up in pitch, throat tight. “She’s disposable to you!”
He did not disagree, merely crossing brawny arms over his chest. “She summoned me, pitched her plan, and I approved it.”
“No. Maryanne might be dumb enough to fall for it, but I know better.I know you. You orchestrated this! I know you did! Is she in danger? You said civil war, Shepherd. You sent mybest friend into a war zone”—stuttering… trying to find the right words, words that were not as ugly as the truth Claire blurted out—“knowing she is incapable of altruistic ambitions.”
There it was, the coldness. The hard heart of a male who would burn the world down for his mate and his mate alone. Everyone else was secondary, even Jules. “Maryannewasyour friend. And an important part of your developmental years. But she isnotyour friend now, and you need to let her go. You need to let her move on.”
Shepherd was tired too, tired and just as willing to meet her on the proverbial battleground. Intimidating, far, far larger than she, he grew, he narrowed his eyes, and placed his palms on the counter to lean over her. “She chose to go to Bernard Dome, because she wants a future there she will never have here. And you, little one, need to understand, Bernard Dome is not Thólos.”
“Don’t even—” Choking on the audacity of her mate saying that word to her, here, now, Claire grabbed another handful of flowers to throw.
“Jules will die without her.”
Her breath caught moments before a scream. Throat tight, eyes stinging, she lost the ability to speak coherently. “You are… using danger toward him to make me…”
“Make you what?”
