Corrupted (Alpha's Claim Book 5) Read online

  Such cheek earned her a light swat on her ass, which only turned her giggles into outright laughter.

  “The room will be cleaned and fresh bedding provided. Fluff your pillows to your heart’s content after your language lesson.”

  “I build the nests for you.” Letting her fingers trace the definition of his abs, she hummed, content in his arms. “I can tell that you’ve been tense lately, and I’ve made an extra effort to create somewhere comfortable for you to relax. Which makes me wonder… why don’t I plan a fun distraction since my nest genius hasn’t hit the mark? There’s this film…”

  The predatory kind of stillness came over the Alpha. “I’m listening.”

  “Beyond my love of nest design”—she gave him a little poke—“and, yes, I know you have been spying on my COMscreen history, creep. I have been watching local films to work on my language skills… which I know you also know, as every one of my instructors tells you everything I do.”

  There was no point in denying it. “They do.”

  “Very cute, Shepherd. Now, hear me out. From my lessons on the culture here, I learned that it’s considered a pleasure to watch the films outside, projected on a wall. Fresh air, cocktails… a common community event.

  His hands stopped petting her back, Shepherd’s focus exact. “You wish to be outside, in a crowd, at night?”

  She leaned up to meet his gaze, black hair spilling over his broad chest. “I was thinking something more intimate. There is a wall in our garden. That nook in the corner where I like to read. I can make us a nice dinner and set up a place for us to relax and try this Greth experience.”

  “No, little one.”

  She gave up with no bluster, a blend of disappointment and relief on her face. “You’re right. It was a silly idea. It’s not safe to be outside when it’s dark.”

  “Your film will need to be displayed at another location.”

  Her eyes widened. “Wait. What?”

  Cupping her cheek, he purred and stroked… made a show of deliberation. Yet there was no deliberation, this move on the board had been orchestrated over weeks. Every last article or fragment of information allowed on her COMscreen hand-selected by him for a series of potential outcomes. Bait to draw her out of their home. “There are others who might enjoy this film and festivity. You are correct. We should embrace the Greth custom.”

  Lips lightly pursed, shallow breaths a clear sign of anxiety, Claire stammered, “That… no. That is not—”

  Untangling their limbs, he began to stand up and make ready for the day. “What film is it that you wish to see, little one?”

  It was clear she didn’t fully grasp how greatly she had been outplayed. “It’s about a baker. I can’t remember what it’s called.”

  The very film he had chosen for her and assured popped up in “advertisements” as she scrolled through her articles on local nesting styles.

  Pleased with himself, yet above gloating, Shepherd declared, “I will ask my men if they have heard of a popular film about a baker. And I will also have subtitles prepared. You are not the only one still learning the language.”

  Slipping from the bed as if to chase him down through all the feathers before he might escape, she said, “That sounds like an awful lot of work. It was a silly idea. I know you are busy. We should stay here where it’s quiet.”

  It was time to make his intentions clear. “I want to see this film about a baker and try this Greth custom. I want to do this with you.”

  “In front of other people?” Pinging suspicion knocked from her side of the link, Claire trying to intimidate him with the idea of normalcy in an effort to escape it herself. “You would dance with me and laugh and relax in front of your men?”

  Towering over her as he pulled on his shirt, Shepherd shot her a smirk. “I came here to have a life, Claire. Many would relish an opportunity for some simple entertainment with their partners.”

  And now his perfect Omega who had been making such progress was pacing.

  “Claire, look at me.” Shepherd caught her arm to put an end to her anxious behavior.

  Chewing her cuticle, concerned green eyes met his.

  “I would not allow you to be anywhere where I did not know you were perfectly safe. Remember that when you have your tantrum after I leave.”

  9

  High-handed, unconcerned with the liberties he took… Shepherd had made his move. Claire saw that now, frustrated that clarity only struck in the wake of his ploys. He wanted her angry, mentioned her impending tantrum especially so she might snarl in indignation.

  An angry Claire was not an anxious Claire. And she was angry.

  Very angry now that it all sank in.

  It was more than just the mess he had made of her nest… again. It was a never-ending pull.

  He wanted a tantrum so that she would perform per his strategy, yet he was the one who’d left feathers everywhere. Nests were sacred to Omegas, they were art. Alphas were to admire them and relish the efforts of their mates.

  In Thólos, he had respected her nest, encouraged it. Invaded on his whim. Now, they were taken for granted in his pursuit to… what? Annoy her?

  His seed flowed down her thighs, a slippery reminder that he had only just fucked her and left. Downy feathers were in her hair, sticking to the mess as it ran down her legs. It would take an army of people to clean this room in the two hours she would sit and practice Greth’s Spanish.

  Which would mean strangers near her most sacred space. Many strangers. Their scents would stain the air, a condition no Omega would appreciate.

  So she would have to do it herself. Which, of course, he knew she would do.

  Which was another reason it was obvious he had made the mess on purpose. Frustrations surging, she reached for her COMscreen and dialed her mate. He answered immediately.

  “If you wanted to see a movie, you could have just said, ‘Claire, I want to see a movie about a baker.’ You didn’t need to destroy my house!”

  There was no visual, but she could hear the smirk in his reply. “You would have declined the invitation.”

  “I am so angry with you right now.” And she was growing more angry by the moment. “Why can’t you just be normal?”

  No emotion layered his reply. “Watching a film is normal, little one.”

  “You planned this whole thing from the beginning. This was all one big setup!”

  “‘Victorious warriors win first and then go to war, while defeated warriors go to war first and then seek to win.’ You should spend more time studying your favorite philosopher if you want to outwit me, Mrs. O'Donnell.”

  One hand held the screen, the other tore at her hair. “The fact that you see our marriage as a war tells me that you need to be the one talking to Dr. Osin, not me.”

  “I’m at war with your neurosis, Claire O’Donnell.” Utterly calm, as if he had prepared his answers to her anger weeks ahead of time, he said, “You reek of fear at the thought of leaving our home. You refuse the company of others. Your self-imposed solitude is over. I am ordering you to make a friend.”

  “You are completely insane!”

  “You claimed I am tense lately. Perhaps I would be less tense if my mate were more well.”

  Her feelings stung at the barb, Claire aware that even if his COM did not show a visual, he was absolutely watching her. That he saw how her lip shook before she could stop it. “I am not one of your Followers. You don’t get to order me to do anything.”

  Darkness promising so many things purred over the line. “Then I shall continue to outwit you. Have fun cleaning up the feathers. I love you, and I will see you at dusk.”

  The connection terminated.

  Fuming, Claire looked around the wreckage of their bedroom and screamed. Hating that she knew he was still watching her. That he would be watching her all day.

  “Wow.” Maryanne leaned back in her chair, baffled and grossed out. Also not entirely sure it would be a good idea to tell Shepherd he had a sma
ll white feather in his hair. “You guys sound so normal.”

  Tucking away his COMscreen, Shepherd poured such a look on Maryanne that her moxy fled.

  Throwing her hands up, she said, “I know you ordered me not to speak, but she’s not on the line anymore. And it’s strange, you know? I have not heard my best friend’s voice in over a year.” Unsure why she had a death wish, Maryanne added, “Why doesn’t she have friends? Claire was always popular. A total teacher’s pet too. Everyone loves Claire, they always have.”

  “If you do not report on Jules in the next ten seconds, I will break your neck and replace you.”

  Rolling her eyes, Maryanne flicked the screen that held a breakdown of her daily report, including segments of video footage for Shepherd to absorb.

  “As you can see, Jules remains in a cell. He receives two meals a day, which he refuses to eat. Despite standard intimidation and bribery, he has also refused to interact with his visitors: identified as Commodore Jacques Bernard and Ancil Vox, Head of Bernard Dome Security—which was ridiculously easy to infiltrate. Whoever is supervising their communications network, they are not reacting to my invasion as a professional would. I don’t think they even know I’m there. I think it’s also relevant to note that Jules has not signaled.”

  His cold “You have access to everything?” was not the gold star she felt she earned.

  Maryanne should have known better than to expect Shepherd to offer praise for a job well done. “So far. Including the Commodore’s bedchambers. Those videos will give you nightmares.”

  Crossing his arms in a way that stretched his suit coat, Shepherd studied the monitors. “Tell me about the woman.”

  “The scarred Omega? Her name’s Brenya Perin, the new mate of Commodore Bernard. As noted in previous reports, most surveillance of them are… of a sexual nature.”

  “Show me.”

  Several monitors filled with recorded examples of the Omega heaving under her Alpha. In all of them, she appeared unresponsive—until the bloom of Alpha coercion manipulated her physiology into an empty shell that stopped resisting and climaxed from the pressure of a knot.

  To be honest, Maryanne found it… disturbingly familiar.

  Years ago, Claire had come to Maryanne in such a state. Battered, frightened, but there was a clear difference between the two Omegas. Claire had refused surrender. Brenya Perin was the embodiment of defeat.

  Glancing at her boss from the corner of her eye, Maryanne knew Shepherd saw it too. His jaw ticking as his unwavering stare catalogued everything.

  “Do you want to know what I think, Shepherd?”

  Eyes that could see right down to her rotten soul turned from the screen and weighed her down with one unbroken glare.

  Her throat bobbed in a swallow, the icy fingers of impending death scratching at her spine. “I think you need to watch this.”

  Flicking the controls, the screens went black, the grunts and sounds of sex snuffed out. All that was left was a single monitor offering a cheery, sun-drenched nursery.

  “The runtime is one hour, five minutes, and twenty-seven seconds.” Glancing back at the Alpha monstrosity, Maryanne added, “You might want to take a seat.”

  Ignoring her offer, Shepherd stood through the entire recording of Brenya Perin having tea with Security Advisor Ancil Vox’s first wife. Maryanne had already watched the video three times, making notations on each timestamped twitch, focusing less on the depressing exchange of two sad women and more on the physical oddness.

  “Brenya Perin isn’t neurotypical. She cannot understand nuance or subtlety. She can hardly interact in this social situation without mimicking her hostess. Yet she is counting every single object in the room, unaware that she is doing it.” Those words had already been in her report, but reading an opinion versus viewing it for oneself? “She sees everything and notices nothing.”

  Shepherd, it would seem, had come to the same conclusion. “She’s a genius.”

  “Annette confronts Brenya for running. The ship your Followers monitored flying toward Thólos three days ago? I think Brenya stole it. That woman piloted a craft with no training, somehow managed to get outside the Dome, was apprehended halfway to Thólos, and was returned mated to the Commodore. Just look at her. She’s battered he bit her twice. The mangled claiming mark on her neck was still bleeding badly enough to leave a decent stain on her dress.”

  There was no agreement or negation from Shepherd. He simply waited for Maryanne to continue her report.

  “Jules was imprisoned because of her escape. He’s refusing to eat, meanwhile these women are discussing honey and Beta rations.” There was no point in beating around the bush, so Maryanne just admitted she didn’t understand what that meant. “What are Beta rations?”

  Shocking the fuck out of her, he actually explained. “Outside of the ruling class, the citizens of Bernard Dome are fed pharmaceuticals from birth to keep them complacent and obedient. That is why Jules is choosing to starve.”

  Okay, since they were having a heart-to-heart, she figured she’d do it thoroughly. “Why not just send him home? If he dies, they must know you will end them all. You’re not subtle in your threats, Shepherd.”

  “Give me a close up of Ms. Perin’s bite marks.”

  “Done.” That had all been prepared, needed only a flick of a key to display the poor girl’s shoulder and neck. “See? He practically ripped her throat in half.”

  “I want a full dossier prepared on Brenya Perin. I want to know everything about that female.”

  “I’ve already looked.” Maryanne scrambled to change the screens to the little data she’d scrounged up. “They must have scrubbed her file from the census. The only reason I know her full name is because it is mentioned in conversation.”

  “You have observed her for days, so answer this. Would Claire feel an affinity for this Omega?”

  Maryanne had to snort at that. “Oh Gods, yes, Claire would go full savior mode at one glance of this socially awkward weirdo.”

  “I would suggest you speak more kindly of Jules’ mate.”

  It had to be a joke. It had to be! After all, Maryanne was cackling at the idea of Jules with a woman. Not only that. “Jules is a Beta.”

  Shepherd’s silence was heavy with annoyance and something that almost tasted like grief.

  Why on earth Maryanne felt the need to assure him, she didn’t know. “Betas cannot pair-bond. After the Commodore gets his panties out of a twist, they will send him home.”

  But Shepherd just kept staring at her.

  Stuttering, Maryanne said, “It’s… it’s not possible.”

  “Had you spent your time in the Undercroft gathering wisdom, listening to the stories of the men suffering, instead of pissing yourself every time someone screamed, you would have learned that there were a multitude of sordid reasons a man was disposed of instead of murdered.”

  The very concept was extremely upsetting, and Maryanne didn’t quite understand why. “Betas cannot initiate pair-bonds. It’s basic biology.”

  “His name was Keriman. There was another called Wess. Two men with the same tale. Two men who had never met one another, Keriman long dead before Wess was thrown into the dark. Both Alpha, both having claimed they had been used by powerful Betas who coveted and were tricked into sharing their bond. Their new mates were stolen, and each man was thrown into the Undercroft to suffer until they went mad from separation.”

  “I checked the registries after Thólos fell. The Beta named by Keriman married an Omega. She had been institutionalized and died within a year of Keriman’s incarceration. The Omega Wess claimed to have bonded to, a Beta Senator, had set herself on fire… one year after he had been thrown underground.”

  “If such a thing were possible, people would know. Everyone would know!”

  Except they wouldn’t. No Alpha would submit to such a thing willingly. Nor would powerful Betas be allowed to retain a taboo bond should their Alpha brethren discover what they had done.


  Standing tall, Shepherd gave his final order of the day. “Brenya Perin. You will find the traces of her erased registry. I want to know everything.”

  The strangest wave of sadness came over her. “If it’s true, Jules won’t ever be able to come home.”

  The man had already begun merging with the shadows, yet he hesitated for a simple moment. And that was confirmation enough.

  10

  Her husband was a total bastard.

  Every feather had been picked from the floor by hand, collected in a bin to be repurposed. Claire’s morning spent on her hands and knees chasing fluff as it shifted around the room each time she moved.

  At midday, Dr. Osin invaded—as the psychiatrist did any time Claire attempted to miss a session—and she found the Omega still plucking feathers, one at a time, from the carpet.

  “You were to meet with me at two.” Ever the Alpha, the no-nonsense statement fell without sympathy for the mess.

  Wiping her hair from her sweaty forehead, Claire sat back on her heels and let out a breath. Unsure if she was more annoyed by the task at hand or the interruption, she cut a glare over her shoulder. “Yeah, well, Shepherd decided to be Shepherd.”

  Still standing on the threshold of the room, Dr. Osin sniffed the air. “It smells as if you recently mated.”

  “He calls it making love.” Sarcasm thick, Claire reached for another feather. “Making love as he destroys my nests and disregards my feelings.”

  “The only thing Shepherd regards is your feelings. Therefore, one might assume your assumption is incorrect.”

  Tossing her hair and turning back to her work, Claire gave the Alpha her back. “I am not in the mood for your Shepherd ass-kissing propaganda today. Either help me clean up this mess or leave.”

  “I have brought lunch. Your mess can wait until after you have eaten. Shepherd informed me that you had forgotten. He also informed me your breakfast was cut short.”

  Of course he was checking in on her, the man couldn’t seem to go a day without stalking his wife in every possible way. “Cut short is one way to phrase it. Or one might say I made a reasonable request, was manhandled, tossed into my nest, and fucked so hard I’m sore. Then in a show of complete insanity, he tore my favorite pillow in half and scattered feathers that I now have the honor of cleaning up.”