Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 65151 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65151 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Slamming the bottle down, Maryanne jostled the plates of untouched food atop her console, gesturing to yet another screen. The feed rotated until a flicker of new footage washed over the room. Jacques Bernard, naked and sweat-slicked, thrusting up into an equally nude Lucia.
But it wasn’t a tryst.
The Alpha was pinned under a lattice of restraints. Bound at his chest, torso, thighs, shins, wrists, ankles… a gag sealing his mouth. Unable to consent as the clearly skilled Omega undulated her hips, milking his knot while he came with a muffled roar.
Maryanne grimaced. “Care to explain that one to me? Because… gross.”
“What exactly do you want, Maryanne?” That was it. That was all Shepherd offered. The menace, the monster, the master who held her leash totally unaffected.
And that just annoyed her to no end.
He’d destroyed Thólos for less.
Preached to the masses in the Undercroft that the corrupt world needed to be burned to ash and rebuilt. But now, seeing this? Knowing every sordid detail in the mountain of reports she’d prepared? Nothing.
“Excuse me?” Freezing mid-shoulder-roll, Maryanne’s eyes widened. Dumbstruck that he was so unmoved, her jaw ticked. Her eye twitched. “What do I want? I’d like to take a shower… but I can’t, can I? I can’t even get up to pee! I can’t look away from these screens or the data relay for one second. I’ve had to watch this absolutely disgusting crap escalate—because if I don’t, Jules will die!”
Enunciating every word as if she were truly a simpleton, Shepherd let her see just how tolerant he was being of her meltdown, and just how close that grace was to ending. “Stop wasting my time with theatrics and speeches, Maryanne, and get to the point. What. Do. You. Want?”
To slap him. Really, really hard.
But that would be an even more painful death than the one that might be awaiting her if she couldn’t convince him to listen.
Drawing in a deep breath, Maryanne put fingertips to temples, as if rubbing little circles on that hollow flesh might do more than remind her that she was covered in a layer of grease and absolutely disgusting. Which made her all the more angry. Because she knew he knew exactly why she had called him there. Why she had waited until it got this bad to make her pitch.
Because Shepherd’s mind was fucking terrifying, and those menacing eyes could see right through her.
So why make her work so hard for it?
This was the only way to save Jules.
Her laugh was brittle, a woman at her wits’ end. “Send me to Bernard Dome. Right now. This very second. And give me all the equipment I want. All of it. And weapons. And Georges Gerard. He knows Bernard Dome’s physical systems inside and out. The ventilation, the power grid, the maintenance tunnels—everything I can’t cover while running surveillance and analysis. Tell Central an influx of Omegas is arriving so they’ll let me land.”
The movement deliberate, controlled, Shepherd unfolded his arms and placed his palm flat against the console’s edge. Leaning over her, so close she could smell his soap under Claire’s slick and the unfortunate drying cum in his pants. He held her eyes, made her tolerate the intensity of such a gaze, so she could hide nothing as he rumbled out a mean, “One word that there is a ship of Omegas en route to Central, and you’ll have hundreds, if not thousands, of Alphas lined up to fight over them. Disenfranchised, angry males who have been denied their favorite sexual outlet for weeks. Attempt to disembark without said Omegas… and a mob will rip you apart.” He leaned just a hair closer, casting a shadow dozens of screens could not overcome. “How many females have you chosen to traffic in this scheme to get out of your comfortable prison?”
“It’s not like that!” Shoving away from the console, her chair rolling back to slam against the wall, Maryanne faced off against her lingering hunched nightmare. “This—this isn’t about me! This is about Jules!”
“Is that what you’re telling yourself?” Rising like a mountain to tower over her, Shepherd looked down his nose at her. As if she were just as selfish and grotesque as she had always been. “Hidden under all your false outrage lingers hope that I might not notice the tremor of anticipation in your voice. That I would only smell fear, and filth, and rotting food in your room, not excitement. That I might fail to register the manic glimmer in your eye… the dream you’re clinging to that if you help Jules win the war, maybe, just maybe, you’ll have a new life. Prestige. A fresh start far away from me. Out of the shelter I have offered you. Away from my control.”
Sputtering, she could offer no more than “I don’t—”
Knocking against her breastbone, Shepherd gave her three hard taps with his finger. Each sharp and mean, shaking her ribcage. “And you can help him hold Bernard Dome. You can help him conquer it. You know that, and you’ve weighed the potential payoff. Otherwise, you would never risk your neck.”