He took her jaw, held it gently but strong enough to make a point. “Do you really think you’re going to win?”

Her repulsion was obvious. “We both know that I am not going to win.”

“Did you give him your ring?”

Black lashes lowered and a pair of tears ran over pale cheeks. “It was my mother’s. He found it in my house while I was trapped here. Corday returned it to me after I jumped off the roof. The morning I decided to kill myself, I slid it on his finger, so he would have something to remember me by.”

“Did you ask him to kill me?”

“No.”

Shepherd’s chest expanded in a great breath, as if relief might have found a way inside a heart so black.

Claire chose to correct his moment of emotional reprieve. “I did not ask him to kill you, I didn’t encourage it. His oath was offered without my prompting.”

Shepherd looked at her as if she were the most deceitful thing he had ever beheld. “Do you love him?”

Her hand came to where Shepherd cupped her face, her move on the game board not yet finished. He had made specific demands, and she would see them through, she would show him that she was stronger. Turning her face into his palm, into the heat of a hand that had crushed throats, beaten the weak, that knew every curve of her body, she held his eyes, her own laced with worry for them both, and pressed her lips to his palm and kissed. “I have given you what you demanded.”

“Not everything,” Shepherd answered, absolutely unashamed. A large thumb traced the lips that had just kissed his palm. “Love me.”

That worming thread was so needy, so invasive and searing, and his wants were so remarkably simple, animalistic even, but she could not give in to him. Claire swallowed, and leaned into his hand.

Shepherd spoke first, as if he knew the very Sun Tzu quote and intention she had in her mind, “It is easy to love your friend, but sometimes the hardest lesson to learn is to love your enemy.”

Seeing her eyes widen, hearing her soft inhale, Shepherd explained, “I watched you read The Art of War at the Omegas’ hiding place. You have used its lessons well, little Napoleon.” He pulled her closer, drew her near until their lips brushed. “The night you marked me, when you touched me, I did feel your affection. Other times as well. I know you care for me. I also know that you don’t want to, just as you don’t want to care for the baby you adore who grows in your womb.”