Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 63982 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 320(@200wpm)___ 256(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63982 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 320(@200wpm)___ 256(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
Dr. Osin never cut her slack. “What happened in Thólos, Claire?”
That question made her heart clench, it made the thought of food horrid. Anxiety, panic—more than the sedatives could manage—would hit her hard every single time she heard it.
She had to give an answer or the doctor would keep asking. She had to offer something or the torment would continue.
Small voice replied, “Nothing good happened in Thólos.”
The notepad was set aside. “We will continue tomorrow.”
But it wasn’t just tomorrow, it was every day.
Claire pulled the covers from her head, unwilling to lie there any longer. The comfort of the nest was not enough if Shepherd was not in it to cuddle with. The only safe place to be was wherever he was.
There were walls around her new home—walls within walls within walls. So many, she could walk outside and be assured no one would bother her, that she was safe.
Shepherd’s grand new world…
How he maintained this position, she did not know. There were no sounds of war under the Dome. There was no stench of death, no pop of bullets.
The people who lived here had let them in. Claire had not seen one of them. Though it was weak on her part, she didn’t want to think about it.
It was easier to pretend it was only the two of them… Dr. Osin’s intrusions aside.
Pulling on a robe the same shade of green as the weeping trees which grew in the surrounding garden, Claire crept down the stairs, pulled open the door, and went to him. Shepherd had known she was coming. Though he stood away from the flowers, the telltale grit was still under his fingernails when she interlaced their fingers.
“Where are your shoes, little one?”
The question brought a sleepy smile, Claire leaning against his arm to watch the sunrise. “Would you like me to make you breakfast?”
He was purring, her worries forgotten at the sound of it. “I would. And then we walk.”
She’d grown to enjoy their walks, just the two of them around the compound’s private perimeter. There was even a segment right against the Dome’s glass. She could trail her fingers on it, see the condensation collecting outside. Beyond the glass there was no snow.
Outside sat mountains, a great river… growing things.
Everything around her was a reminder that life flourished.
In order for that life to continue to flourish, it had to be fed. Her newest job was to feed her mate.
The venture was interesting, gave her a chance to share something with him each morning that she had been denied underground: domestic normality. Shepherd’s breakfast was simple. One big blender filled with stinking mold powder, raw eggs, nut butter, and whatever else he needed to supplement his altered system. Making it for him wasn’t a chore. Claire would put in a little cinnamon, or cocoa, but she was certain it still tasted awful, teasing him about his one restriction.
He would suck it down in huge gulps, Claire making a point of not staring, while she gathered her small meal. She didn’t like to eat much in the morning—he knew that now—usually a boiled egg, toast, and some coffee. Medication was next, waiting on the counter between them. Shepherd would watch her poke at the AM set, already presorted for her by another: antidepressants, antipsychotics, sedatives, a heat suppressant, a vitamin.
Seeing the assortment made her unhappy. She didn’t show it, but it was always there in the link.
Her regimen had been tailored within Thólos’ North Wing and watched with a hawk’s eye by Dr. Osin now that she lived in Greth. Even though there had been no major meltdowns in the short months since Shepherd had brought her home, there was still so much to swallow.
Claire always took the little blue pill first, before she ate a bite. The rest were portioned as her meal progressed. Vitamin last.
“I love you, Claire O’Donnell.”
Green eyes stopped brooding on the Monday-Sunday medication container to look at the man across the counter. There was a band on his left ring finger; she now wore one too. “O’Donnell isn’t my name any longer, Shepherd.”
Though he was purring, his answer was curt. “I never had a surname, you know that.”
“If you are only Shepherd, then I am only Claire. I’ll take the nothing at the end.”
Large fingers stroked her jaw. “What of our future children, only Claire?”
And just like that, the moment was ruined. She fought to keep her food down, to keep herself from breaking things.
What happened in Thólos, Claire?
For just a moment, she looked up at Shepherd… and hated him.
They missed their walk that day, Shepherd far more focused on fucking his despondent mate back into a state of tranquility. He had to be careful. There were rules now, because others had hurt her. He couldn’t take her from behind; she had to be able to see him so she might not panic, might not be in a position to suffer a flashback.