“She told me herself that the bond was damaged. Why do none of you listen when she speaks? Why do you all assume?”

“Corday.” Nona took the boy’s hand and spun the ring on his finger. “Claire is gone. She gave you her ring so you would not forget her, because she had affection for you, too.”

The man argued vehemently. “She swore to me that she would survive. I choose to believe she had a plan. We have all seen just what she is capable of. I have faith in Claire.”

“I love Claire as if she were my daughter. I knew what she was suffering, what she had sacrificed for us, and I hope you are right. But if you are, the only way that would have happened is if she purposefully went back to Shepherd.”

Gritting his teeth and glaring at her, Corday growled, “She would not have gone back to Shepherd.”

“I agree.”

Beyond frustration, Corday turned and left, furious with the old woman.

The warmth of a large hand softly stroked back loose hair from her face, waking Claire from a dead sleep. The purr was light, enticing her to stir, and from the way the mattress dipped, she could tell Shepherd was sitting on the edge of the bed.

It was the smell that made her comply, the aroma of roasted coffee beans and something sweet. Blinking salt crusted lashes, she looked straight at the bedside table. Sitting in a white cup atop a saucer was a steaming cappuccino made by someone who possessed the skill to create the little pictures in the foam.

It did not take a genius to figure out he had been watching her in the processing plant. Shepherd had heard her conversation with Nona, and he had done this in response.

“Please don’t tell me you kidnapped a barista,” Claire groaned, sleepy, stretching forward to sniff.

“The chef I kidnapped months ago to prepare your meals needed company.”

Claire could not tell if Shepherd was trying to make a joke. Scowling, she glanced up at the man still petting her elongated back and pursed her lips. From the look in his eyes it was clear the brute was absolutely serious.

He picked up the saucer to hand to her, using his other hand to lift and turn her to sit back against the pillows. Situated with the drink in her hand, she sipped and sighed, unsurprised when Shepherd moved the curtain of her hair over her shoulder to reveal her breasts for his gaze.

“Are you enjoying your coffee?”

Shepherd had never woken her unless it was for sex, and certainly not with coffee in bed. Claire did not trust him for a moment. “I am not going to thank you.” But she did take another sip and melted… hating to admit that the drink was really fucking good.

Though his expression did not change, Claire was certain he was satisfied with her reaction to his offering.