The man seemed momentarily at a loss for an easy answer. “There was no concept of courtship in the Undercroft. Men just took what they wanted. Violently.”

All too familiar anger bubbled under her skin, Claire aware that was exactly what he had done to her. “So that is the culture you choose to identify with?”

It seemed like such a simple question, but Shepherd took his time measuring his reply, as if tailoring it in his head first. “I choose to identify with military culture.”

The corner of her lips curled, Claire took another bite, wondering how on earth the crazy man across the table existed.

Shepherd disliked her reaction. “You find my answer unsatisfactory.”

Waving her fork, she stated blandly, “I find it unique. Very Shepherd-like.”

“Explain.”

Claire leaned forward and met his eyes with a harsh look in her own. “You have strong opinions on my culture, have made several claims of our failings and vices... but you do not have a culture of your own. Considering the aspersions you cast, it seems your personal experience with real society is negligible.”

The male straightened in his chair. “I have extensively studied Dome life for many years. I lived above ground and below. I watched, learned, followed, and remembered.”

The man was completely missing her point, or he was redirecting her on purpose. “Have you participated in my society before you tried to ruin it? Only watching doesn’t count. Your military culture, the ethos you created for your Followers, is just Undercroft society tailored to conveniently meet your manifesto.”

Shepherd warned, “We have our own traditions and an honorable philosophy, little one.”

“That’s right, a whole army of honorable monsters who probably roast humans on a spit for fun.”

The man answered with a very droll, “We only do that on high holidays.”

Claire almost choked when Shepherd actually made a joke. Coughing into her hand, chuckling despite herself, she found the male very pleased with himself for rousing her amusement.

She could feel the wheels in his mind turning, understood he had tried to banter in the same manner he’d witnessed between her and Maryanne. It was very strange to witness the way Shepherd’s mind processed and adapted. He was like a sponge that absorbed interaction but didn’t quite know how to apply it. So he practiced, usually falling short. Except that time... that time had been perfect.

Taking another bite so she could hide her smirk, Claire asked, “Enlighten me, Shepherd. Where do Omegas fit into military culture?”

Shepherd began to consider. It seemed like such a human gesture, the way he sucked his plump lower lip into his mouth, so totally normal, Claire could not look away. A moment later, Shepherd offered, “Napoleon was an Omega.”

Claire blinked, cocked her head, and argued. “No he wasn’t.”