Stolen, page 14
He stopped, his highly polished shoes suddenly silent, and Shepherd looked down at the woman held pressed to his side. She hadn’t been sleeping and it showed in the dark smears under her eyes. “A walk that has left you badly panicked, Claire.”
She was so tempted to bury her nose in his side and let him make her feel better. “I want to be like I was before. I want to feel normal again.”
It was almost cruel the way he said, “You are never going to feel the way you did before. You are never going to be who you were before.”
He could feel the tumult of emotions raging inside her, the fear growing weaker in place of despair, anger, hate, pain, but most of all love. Everything that could be done to fix what hurt her, he was doing. Even her current state he could improve, and did when he pulled off his jacket and set it over her shoulders so she might not feel undressed before his men.
That old challenging look in her green eyes reared its head, even though she pulled the warm fabric he’d offered closer. “Thank you.”
“Claire has been weaning herself off her medication. Three days ago she stopped taking them all together.”
“Such a thing is dangerous! Why was I not informed of this?” Shepherd slammed a fist on the table between them.
Dr. Osin remained at attention, facing her enraged commanding officer, unflinching. “I monitor her closely. This minor rebellion is good for her. She is trying to regain a modicum of control in her life.”
“Yet now she hardly sleeps, has an aversion to food. Moreover, it is your job to make her know she can come to me and feel no need for subversion. This exacerbates what troubles her.”
The older woman had been with the Followers from five years before Thólos fell. Shepherd’s rage did not shake dedication like hers. “The side-effects will pass. But you disrupted her progress by ushering her away the moment she grew scared. Claire was in no danger and needs to learn the proper time and place for fear without the crutch of sedation. Next time, if she pushes her boundaries and requires comfort, you wait for her to walk to you. Secondly, confronting her about the medication would be unwise. Say nothing. Build trust.”
Shepherd had a great dislike for the old woman these days. “Should you be wrong and she grows unhappy, I will kill you and replace you. It will not be an easy death.”
The threat did not unsettle one grey hair on Dr. Osin’s head.
Maybe there was a silver lining. Angry, yet hopefully, Shepherd asked, “Has she also ceased taking her heat suppressant?”
“No, sir. Those are diligently swallowed morning and night.”
How he hated those little blue pills.
Shepherd left the psychiatrist and entered the enclosure around the home he’d had built for his mate. Claire was in her garden, ripping at plants, painfully unskilled in their keeping. Before he could even address her, she glared over her shoulder and snapped, “I’m not taking all those drugs anymore, all right. I will feel normal again. I want to be able to focus and carry on a conversation without getting confused. When you tell me you love me, I want to be able to feel it!”
Her unsolicited honesty kept him silent. Shepherd took a seat on the nearby bench and nodded. She was so angry with him. It came over her some days and burned Shepherd on his end of the link, but she had never once vocalized her feelings. She didn’t have to. He could read her like a book. Antidepressants, antipsychotics, sedatives kept that feeling blurred under medicinal apathy, but it blazed with no chemicals flowing through her bloodstream. And with her fury was twice as much guilt.
But the guilt was his. “Everything was my fault.”
Her trowel jammed into the earth, Claire oddly comforted that he knew her insides were a mess. She did not speak of Thólos, not with him, not with Dr. Osin. Any reminder set her off. “You were right. I can’t be who I was.”
“You can be something else.”
She was only one thing now. “I suppose I am. I am your wife now.”
The modest band was dirty from her work in her garden, but Shepherd’s eyes found pleasure in seeing it on her finger because the title was one that mattered to her. She’d mentioned many times in the past, her dream of her future husband, so he’d spoken her culture’s vows to please her. “You are, little one: my wife and mate. You are also a sub-par gardener.”
Claire laughed, her eyes glittering as the rage dwindled and amusement seeped in. “Maybe I’d be a better soldier.”
“You would not.”
His teasing made her laugh again. When the sound faded, her mercurial emotions found momentary neutrality. “I’m going to go running on the causeway over the city where we walk.”
“I will accompany you.”
“I don’t want you to. I want to run by myself.”
It was very difficult for Shepherd to remain silent and trust Dr. Osin’s advice. “Do not forget to wear a windbreaker. It can grow very cold near the updrafts.”
An hour later, Claire sprinted down the vacant path until her body shook from exertion, and she’d loved every minute of it. She’d panted heavily and bent over, near vomiting. She did the same the next day, then the next. She ran as fast as she could, darting through shrubbery, jumping over stairs. She ran until it hurt.
That distracting pain was preferable to the ache she couldn’t shake.
Shepherd had her shadowed each time, attempting more than once to do so himself, but Claire was too fast. So when reports came back, weeks later, of how she’d stopped in her run—how she’d sobbed, her hand pressed over her womb—he’d just about strangled Dr. Osin, but released the old woman’s throat before more than bruises would result.
Claire had returned home, oblivious. She’d prepared dinner for them. She’d smiled and been happy. And then she’d reached for his belt buckle and gone to her knees.
18
“What did it feel like the first time you saw him?”
Another aggravating morning with Dr. Osin. They had been doing this for too long, going through the motions, wasting one another’s time. “The snow… he was hard to see. I felt him, heard him calling. Shepherd was smiling.”
There was a pause. “So you jumped from the causeway to reach him?”
“You already know I did.”
“I do. Which is why I asked you what you felt the first time you saw Shepherd.”
There was a twitch Claire could not suppress, a tightening around her mouth. “I was cold.”
“You were frightened?”
Claire could hardly put voice behind her answer. “Yes.”
“Tell me why.”
And this is where the session would dead-end. Claire was stubborn, and Thólos was a time she would not think of. “Why do you think?”
The old woman spoke directly. “He is dangerous. Larger than you. Violent. Intelligent.”
Claire could not help but agree. “He didn’t look at me when I asked for a moment of his time.”
“Did he hurt you?”
“No. He saved me…” Claire shook her head and amended, “I thought he saved me. He used me.”
“In estrous?”
“I hate estrous.” All of them had been disastrous, terrifying, or a weakness she could not defend herself from.
The woman adjusted her glasses and looked up from her notes. “I am an Alpha, my deceased mate Omega. Estrous is a thing we experienced roughly three times a year. It was celebrated.”
What did that matter? “You’re a female Alpha. It’s different.”
“He feared estrous initially too. Male Omegas are one in a million. I found him on the poorest levels. I took him.”
Claire sneered. “You’re a bitch.”
“He did love to call me that. He also loved me, greatly.”
Green eyes moved from the wall she chose to stare at during these talks to fix directly on her psychiatrist. “And still he died.”
“Of cancer, twelve years ago.”
“I’m sorry.” She hadn’t meant to say something so cruel, aware the monotone of her doctor must hide great pain. “I am sorry.”
“You love him.”
There was no need for Claire to confirm. “I know he makes you come here, that you had a position far more interesting than dealing with me. For that I am sorry, but I don’t want to talk to you.”
Dr. Osin’s voice was smooth, focused. “My job remains the same. All Followers are analyzed by me. In this new world, I decide who is fit to serve our cause and who must be removed.” There was no pride behind the doctor’s next statement. “When it comes to psychology I am the best in Shepherd’s army, subsequently the best in the world.”
And almost as arrogant as Shepherd himself. “Then you must resent this new assignment.”
A pencil went back to the pad on the doctor’s knee. “That would be petty.”
Speaking so their meeting might end, Claire said, “I like running over the city. We could talk about that.”
“Well, Claire, thank you for throwing me a bone. But no. Let’s talk about Shepherd.”
Claire mimicked the annoying woman’s monotone. “We were married twelve weeks ago. He gave me an emerald I could barter for a small country, which I never wear. So he had a band made for me. He wore black slacks and a formal jacket. I wore a green dress I had never seen before and did not choose. He likes to pick my clothes. I have no idea where they come from. We took our vows outside, by that little fountain near the trees.”
“Were you happy?”
It was the first time positive emotion came into Claire’s voice at one of her appointments. “Very happy.”
“What did you think of Shepherd the first time you saw him in Thólos?”
Those good feelings were swept from under Claire’s feet. “He scared me.”
“Elaborate, Claire.”
Claire snapped. “Everyone I knew was dead or dying. Everyone. The streets were a nightmare. Omegas were being ripped in half, slaughtered. Every day we lost more. All my friends… gone. There was no haven, not even when I went to Shepherd.”
“He gave you sanctuary.”
“But the Omegas…”
The old woman knew just how to gain a reaction. “You went to save them. They betrayed you.”
Claire started shouting, standing from her chair as she paced, “They were starving! Their children and mates murdered before their eyes!”
“And you lost a child.”
Instantly deflated, Claire shrank. “No. No, no, no.”
“You lost your son.”
“Be quiet!”
“You named him Collin. You were hurt so badly you miscarried.”
Claire could hardly believe it. “Hurt?”
The doctor adjusted her glasses. “What would you call it?”
She was so fucking tired of the grind. “You know what happened. There is no reason for this!”
“What happened in Thólos, Claire?”
“Shepherd released a nightmare, and they did to me the same thing they did to everyone else.”
“What did they do to you?”
She could not say the word, even knowing that was the key to silencing the constant preaching from the old woman. “They died that day. They can’t do it again.”
Dr. Osin looked up from her notes. “Though they were wounded, not all of them died when Premier Dane found you. Some crawled away in the rush.”
Claire began to shake. “What?”
“Shepherd found where the rats hid in the Undercroft the night he brought you home. Now they are dead, and died painfully.”
Those men had deserved to die. Knowing her mate had done horrible things to them should have angered her, upset her morals. It didn’t. It only made her feel better. “I’m glad.”
“Are you?”
There was no need to hesitate in answering. “Yes.”
“Why?”
There was no rehabilitation for that kind of evil. “I’ll sleep better at night knowing they’ll never hurt anyone else.”
“How did they hurt you?”
There was some bubbling horror spewing out her mouth she couldn’t stop. A terrible name. “Svana… three convicts.”
Dr. Osin watched Claire begin to panic, nodding at her to continue.
Claire could hardly choke the words out. “They made a game of it.”
“Define it. What happened to you, Claire?”
What happened in Thólos? WHAT HAPPENED IN THÓLOS? Every fucking day she tried to forget, needed not to remember, but the bitch doctor wouldn’t leave her alone. Shepherd wouldn’t leave her alone. Enough was enough. Claire kicked at the coffee table between them, wood hitting the old woman’s shins. Flying from the room, Claire ran so hard it hurt, ran to accuse the one who thought this torment would help her.
He needed to see what he’d done. Shepherd needed to pay! There was no pause at the gates of the palace, no shrinking back from the nearness of strangers.
Angry, furious, she bounded toward Shepherd and started screaming, “They raped me, Shepherd! Is that what you want to hear so fucking badly? Is that why I have to sit with that horrible woman every day? RAPED! Over and over, in every way, until our baby died, and then they raped me some more! THAT’S WHAT FUCKING HAPPENED IN THÓLOS!”
Dr. Osin had run up behind her, the sound of the woman’s footsteps the only noise in the courtyard. Soldiers seemed stuck where they were, frozen in that horrible moment of time. Even Shepherd.
It seemed to hit Claire, where she was and how she got there. Streams already ran down her cheeks. She was red, heart racing, and the feeling of anguish grew. Sobs started, managing breath was difficult, and then Shepherd was there, giving her a place to hide her face against his chest.
Fingers carded through dark hair, Shepherd doing his best to keep his voice even. “You will tell me everything that happened, and I will listen. You can scream it if you need to.”
She was shaking her head even as she whimpered, “My hands were tied above my head. I was naked on a dirty mattress deep underground. Svana fingered me, said she wished she could stay and watch… I told her I loved you. She laughed.”
The fingers in her hair seemed to catch, become claws, but Shepherd continued petting her as best he could.
“There were three Alphas. They were filthy and smiling. I couldn’t feel much the first time from the drugs you’d forced on me. I just laid there and pretended I was somewhere else. They didn’t like that.” The story continued in graphic detail, Shepherd holding her tight as the room cleared. Claire told him every last detail she could remember, even some she had forgotten, they’d been buried so deep. By the end of it, the sobbing had stopped, her voice was detached, her end of the link settled and pained.
“You did well,” Shepherd said. “Recounting the trauma is vital to your recovery, little one. It will get easier each time you do it, and you will be less afraid.”
Eyes vacant, Claire looked up. “Dr. Osin told me you killed them…”
Shepherd nodded slowly, not at all remorseful.
“Is there proof? I need to see what you did. I need to see them dead.”
“No.”
“I need to see it, Shepherd.”
“No,” he said softer, pleased Claire’s bossiness was rearing its head. “Tomorrow you will recount this to me again. That will do you far more good than looking at horrors.”
“Did they suffer?”
“Much more than you did.”
Claire was not sure how she felt about that, or why deep down she wished she’d been there to see it. “I don’t think I’m a good person anymore.”
Arms tightened in their embrace. “You are good, Claire. You’re perfect. You’re just a little lost right now.”
19
Bernard Dome
* * *
“Satellite uplink complete. Cue image transfer.”
Jacques did not wear his customary impudent smirk. Not for this meeting. He knew enough about who he was dealing with to offer no expression. Every tick and mannerism on either side would be evaluated; every last word would be broken down and reconstructed in search of hidden meanings.
He had accepted the Greth trade agreement. He had accepted the Greth Ambassador. And now it was time for the formal meeting between the Greth and Bernard Dome leaders.
On the wall before them, in a secure room populated by the highest ranking individuals, appeared the massive image of a cold-blooded killer. Like the Beta Ambassador standing at Jacques’ side, slithers of black teased out from the collar of the large male’s shirt, marking a thick neck almost to jaw. The Alpha’s hair was a shade of brown, close cropped in military style, a scar slashed across his lips.
Like Jacques, Shepherd was entirely unsmiling. Like Jacques, he was formally dressed, though it was much easier to imagine the Alpha in fatigues, smeared with blood and sweat.
The images Ancil had uncovered of the man were often times much worse.
“Greetings, Chancellor O’Donnell.” Jacques gestured to the Beta Ambassador at his side. “Per your request, Ambassador Havel is present.”
“Jules.”
The Beta responded at once. “Sir.”
When no formal greeting was offered in reply, Jacques continued as if the faux pas were nothing. “Will Queen Svana not be joining us today?”
“My mate is grieving the death of our unborn son. All state matters have been left to my care until she recovers.” Shepherd’s candor, it would seem, was even more abrupt than his dispassionate Ambassador.
Jacques offered a sympathetic bow. “I offer you both my condolences.”
“Your condolences are unnecessary, Jacques Bernard.” The Chancellor eyed the Commodore of Bernard Dome, weighing him before cutting his grey eyed gaze to Ambassador Havel. Without preamble, Shepherd began grunting out a language translation programs could not decipher.
Whatever was said, Ambassador Havel responded in equal measure, the pair carrying on a clandestine conversation right before the provoked Bernard Head of State.
Mouth growing tight, open vexation storming into a vicious glance, the Commodore cut off further private conversation. “If you have taken the time to learn French, then speak it.” He switched languages, fluidly. “Or do you prefer the Spanish of Greth?” The Commodore’s voice modulated again. “Or the English of Thólos?”
