Page 61 of Born to be Broken

“That after one good look at you, I can see you’ve been playing the victim instead of trying to live.” There was no more frisky tone in Maryanne’s voice, no more playful looks. “Yeah your situation sucks; yeah it’s not what you wanted. But it is what it is. And I know you… I can just see you stagnating instead of adapting, all stubborn to the point it hurts. He might not be Prince Charming, but it’s safe here. He feeds you. You have it better than almost everyone else under the Dome.”

Looking to be near the brink of ripping off her guest’s head, Claire hissed, “Did he tell you to say that?”

“Do I look like I’d do anything he tells me to?”

“Of course you do.” Narrowing her eyes, Claire mouthed, “You needed friends once… that’s your friend sitting in the corner now.”

For a second Maryanne looked stricken, and then grew coldly composed. “You don’t know what it was like down there, Claire. Even you would have done anything to get out. And no, he didn’t tell me to say that. It’s my own opinion.”

“Well, from your life decisions, it’s clear your judgment isn’t always the best.”

“That look in your eye”—the blonde settled back, just as unhappy as her friend—“I know what it means. You know I’m right. And yeah, I’ve fucked up. I am what I am. But you still love me.”

“I do, you cunt.”

Sudden heavy warmth settled on Claire’s nape. She tensed, unaware Shepherd had silently come up behind her. His thumb stroking her spine, he spoke, “That will be enough for today.”

Claire stood to say goodbye, Shepherd maintaining his hold on her neck. “I’m sorry I snapped at you, Maryanne.”

“You shouldn’t be.” Maryanne smiled softly. “You’re allowed to be bitchy; you’re pregnant. Before you know it, you’ll also be fat.”

And just like that, Claire was chuckling again, stepping out from under Shepherd’s shadow to embrace her friend. Standing on tiptoe, Claire pecked Maryanne’s lips, the close friends’ customary goodbye.

And it had been a mistake.

Shepherd snarled, Claire darting back against him, begging, “Don’t hurt her!”

“She’s like my sister, Shepherd,” Maryanne tried to pacify, failing to hide the fear in her voice. “Get your mind out of the gutter.”

“You will not kiss her again.” An arm came around Claire’s waist, keeping her locked to his side as Shepherd shouted a stream of foreign words towards the door.

The bolts were thrown and the door opened so Ms. Cauley could be escorted out by a parade of armed Followers. Even as the door was closing, Shepherd pressed Claire to the wall. She heard his zipper, the impatience of Shepherd’s growl as he lifted her skirt, and he was inside her in a quick thrust.

It was nothing but an animal claiming, both of them still dressed, but his grunts were loud, and Claire knew that Maryanne, anyone, in the halls could hear them. And that, of course, was his point. Shepherd was loudly broadcasting that she was his. She wanted to be shamed, but found her body glorying in it, her mind already slipping into the haze. It was a quick pairing, especially satisfying when he spun her about just before she came. Face to face, the knot formed, her legs around his waist, his strength supporting her fully when so much pleasure bloomed.

“You didn’t say my name,” he panted, eyes like molten iron.

She said it, just so he would shut up and let her enjoy the aftereffects. “Shepherd.”

There was a smear of red lipstick on Claire’s mouth. Holding her still, Shepherd went to rub it off. His finger hesitated, changed course, and instead spread it around until her lips took on a rosy hue. “Was Ms. Cauley’s assessment correct? Are cosmetics something that you require?”

The man had just knotted, was still spilling, and he was asking stupid questions. Looking at him as if he were nuts, Claire scowled. “Nobody requires cosmetics.”

“I see no problem with the length of your hair, nor is it ragged,” he grumbled next, stroking in the exact same place Maryanne had, as if erasing the other Alpha’s touch.

Claire rolled her eyes to the heavens and leaned her head back to the wall.

His lips went to her cheek, her ear, her neck. “I have never heard you laugh in that manner.”

There was nothing she could say that would not be inflammatory, but it was clear he expected some sort of answer. “She’s funny. Always has been.”

Shepherd understood that it was less Maryanne’s comment, and more the fact that Claire absolutely agreed with her friend’s assessment. Svana had never found him wanting when it came to understanding her or her needs. She was easy to please, loved the gifts he brought her, and always thanked him profusely. Claire was disinterested in almost everything he had provided, never glanced twice at new clothing, jewels tucked into her drawer, or fine things he put in the room. He knew she enjoyed the food, though her pride kept her from expressing it… and she found pleasure in her paints. Nothing else had ever drawn a reaction.

He had hated every moment of the women’s conversation, save Maryanne’s wise reprimand to her friend. It was the only thing that might induce him to allow such a meeting again.

Stranger still, Claire had grown hostile, they had argued, and then it was over. No hard feelings on either side.

The Omega was growing limp, falling asleep in his arms. Still knotted, Shepherd carried her to the lounge chair and arranged them both while he waited for his member to soften. When her nose went to his neck and she began to draw in his scent, the Alpha encouraged her behavior, played with her hair, and listened to her strange musical hum—an Omega noise she had not made since… since Svana.