“Okay, fine! Since you don’t listen to a goddamn thing I say anyway, here goes. I want a new bed in a big room with carpet instead of concrete. A room with a wall of windows that overlook a garden I planted full of flowers—which would be a miracle, as every houseplant I ever had died. I want to move without restriction through this grand house I will be nesting in, and be free to go outside and sit on grass… And I want a pony too, Shepherd. No, forget that. I want a fucking unicorn.”

Pulling her hair so that she had to look back at him, he scowled. “You may not have a pony, and unicorns don’t exist.”

She really didn’t mean to, was so in knots inside she could not even begin to fathom where it came from, but just for a second, she giggled. Slapping a hand over her mouth, still stuck with her head leaning back at an unnatural angle, she forced her face into neutrality and continued to make her point. “What color is it that you are so certain I like?”

“You prefer green, the same shade as your eyes.”

Was that why almost every single dress he’d provided was green? “What gave you that idea?”

He looked as if such a miscalculation was not possible. “That is not the color you favor?”

“Sure, it’s a pretty color… but it’s not my favorite color.” Understanding, Claire narrowed her eyes and leveled a disapproving gaze at the man. “Let me guess, you got this information from your interrogations of the Omegas.”

“Red, like your picture?” he tried again, letting go of her hair so she might turn and he could see her fully.

“No. Why didn’t you just ask me if you wanted to know something so mundane?” But then it dawned on her. He wanted to provide things she was supposed to like without prompting… as a tactic of sorts because that was the only way he knew how to be.

Shepherd grew aggravated, standing naked and demanding rudely, “What is your favorite color?”

“Bird’s egg blue.” Mocking him, Claire cocked her head to the side and batted her lashes. “And, Shepherd, since we are being so congenial, what is yours?”

“Expressly, the exact color of your eyes.” He wasn’t flirting, he was annoyed, but even so the words were… something. They made her blush and he noticed it, his intense gaze losing its edge and gaining that unnerving calculation instead. “I also find the rich black of your hair to be incredibly fetching.”

She was positively scarlet and clearly wanted him to look away. It had been months since she had tried to cover her nakedness and she did not know what led her to do it, but her arm came up to hide her flushed breasts.