Gnashing his teeth, Shepherd swore. The Beta would die screaming.
Had Shepherd not purred, growled, stroked, followed every instinct to rouse her back from her stupor? He'd even tried to explain. Him! The Alpha, the strongest who was never questioned, had tried to reason with an Omega. But she had not even blinked.
She'd slipped so far out of his grasp.
It was her vocation to stay, to be devoted, to love him, to obey. Had he not seen to her needs? Had he not given her nice dresses and the best food? Had he not spent hours simply petting the girl until she was completely content? What was one unpleasant situation compared to that?
Had he not saved her life in more ways than one?
Impregnating her ensured her survival, justified her maintenance to his followers. No one could question the safekeeping of his baby. More importantly, it gave her purpose and distraction. Shepherd could not tell her in so many words—she was not one of them, remained far too determined in her ideal of goodness to comprehend the greatness of his calling. Furthermore, the reasoning behind his actions was unnecessary for her to know. Shepherd knew if Claire realized the true nature of what was coming, she would only fret more. She would cry for her pathetic citizens instead of giving all her attention to him. Direct treachery was best: it kept him in control of her fate. But she was willful, so damn obstinate with her foolish romantic notions.
Shepherd's fist crashed against the table. He roared, upended the entire thing until papers flew and his COMscreen cracked against the cold floor.
Svana's unexpected arrival had been infuriatingly problematic. Not only was she displeased by what she had found, Svana would have ripped Claire's beautiful eyes out had Shepherd not pacified his beloved once she'd seen what he'd kept hidden away. You don't reason with provoked Alphas, you show action. Had he not fucked her loudly, broadcasting his favor to ensure the territorial female did not view the Omega as a threat, Claire would have been murdered the first moment he left her alone. He had done what was necessary, for both of the women.
It was the price to keep Claire.
Yet he had lost her anyway, even before she had run. Watching her mentally slip away, his rush of anger, his outright fury… it was the same rage that had burned him when he rose from the Undercroft to murder Premier Callas… only to find the leader of Thólos—the man who'd sentenced his mother to the Undercroft—was richly laced with the scent of Svana's sex.
Shepherd had drawn a deep breath, momentarily stunned as he processed what could not be—until he understood what Svana had done.
The speech he'd prepared for his greatest enemy, the one perfected night after night caged underground, was forgotten. What should have been a quick death, the body to be displayed, ended in blood dripping from the ceiling, Premier Callas' entrails flung all over the floor.
And then came pain far more horrific than any agony his Da'rin markings might produce. His beloved had defiled herself, purposefully tainted her body by mating with the enemy.
Shepherd had confronted Svana, the woman he had loved from the first moment they'd met in the dark, the ethereal creature that was his whole life, who held his soul in her beautiful hands. The woman who had set him free, empowered him to gain control of the Undercroft—the very woman he'd killed for, suffered for, ached for.
Since their first sexual experience, Shepherd had only ever lain with the occasional estrous high Omega his beloved had procured for them—so they could fulfil the animal urge to rut together as they were meant to. For lesser beings, Alpha/Alpha pairings were difficult, as there was no pair-bond, and it was in their natures to challenge for dominance. But the two of them were beyond such sordid behavior. Or so he'd thought. He had never wavered… not once.
She had.
She had fucked the Premier, thrown what they had aside for some distorted ploy, as the final undiscussed crux in her plan. As Shepherd heard her speak on the matter, as she convincingly painted a grand scenario, he could not bring himself to question what she'd never mentioned. Svana had planned her seduction all along. Though she held Shepherd and spoke of her love, he was attuned to her; he could smell what was wrong in her scent. What had been done was even worse than he'd originally believed; Svana had chemically forced an unlikely ovulation. She wanted to bear the child of her enemy… to have a traitor's lineage continue the line—a man who wasn't infected with Da'rin, who was born with superior bloodlines—a man who might even be the carrier of the alleged antibody to the Red Consumption in his veins.
Not like Shepherd, who didn't know which of the countless prisoners who'd raped his mother had fathered him. His blood had not been fostered through generations with access to secret science and inoculations against disease. Instead, he was disfigured by Da'rin that burned in the sun and would always mark him as a castoff.