Taken, Lane L.V. [free novels to read .TXT] 📗

There are no further arguments. We are all exhausted. I’ve not slept properly since the day Derick snatched Priya up, and I did not sleep well before. I’d resolved myself to the importance of the King’s quest before I took it on. I’d understood the dangers and that I might die during the undertaking.

Despite all this, I’d been ready to toss King and sacrifices aside should the lass have been in real danger.

As I lay upon the bed, I hear the shuffling and clattering as they get ready for sleep, and it comforts me. The walls are paper-thin, and I hear the murmuring of soft words before quiet.

I imagine the three of them squeezed together upon the bed. It is big enough to take an Alpha, but not designed for two and a wench. Her soft, tiny body will be squashed between them as they purr, as I’ve witnessed many times.

She feels safest there tucked between them. I’m sure she must miss Hawthorn, although she has made no mention of him. An Omega needs the attention of her mates once bonded, or so I’ve heard.

For the first time today, she is truly safe.

I fall asleep to quietness.

But I wake up to the sounds of rutting.

I don’t bother to fight the urge to take my cock in hand, and I don’t make it past the fifth stroke. Great, creamy ropes of cum shoot across my stomach. I shudder and growl as more and more shoots until my balls tingle and my legs shake.

“Fuck!”

I’ve made a fucking mess.

Beyond the wall, they are still vigorously rutting.

My cock will never go fucking down.

I sigh and take my dick in hand again. There is no point in trying to sleep while they make enough noise to wake the whole fucking ship. As I stroke myself, I imagine handling her tomorrow . . . putting her over my lap and spanking that plump ass. I’ve not seen them discipline her, but I sense the lass will take to it. Her eyes certainly flashed with interest when I mentioned it.

And after her discipline, I will have leave to dip my fingers in that tight pink little hole and make her feel good.

The things I want to do to her are dark and depraved. Watching the lads with her has convinced me she will take everything I need and more.

I want to thrust inside her so badly, but I will handle her first, and I will drive her so mad with the need, she’ll have no choice but to claim me when next she comes into heat. While I’ve already claimed her in my heart, she must also claim me as is the way between an Alpha and an Omega.

The feeling of her small teeth bloodying my throat will unleash the last of my control, and I will take her how I need, in half-shift.

Groaning softly, I climax again, pumping cum all over my stomach, making a giant sticky mess.

I yawn, and my hand slows in the aftermath.

My dick will not go fucking down.

It doesn’t help that the wall is banging erratically, telling me that Brook is having his turn.

Luckily for the lad, she doesn’t need much finesse.

I chuckle, and I am soon fast asleep.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Priya

“IT’S TIME FOR your discipline,” Raglan says.

As long as I’ve lived, those words have brought a sense of dread. When I was little, it was some mischief driving either my late father or Bram to see to my correction.

Then I grew up, and discipline, I discovered, means an entirely different thing.

We are in the captain’s quarters, which Raglan has commandeered for this purpose, for there is a choice of cane, worn birch rod, and strap, along with a punishment bench . . . of which I’m painfully familiar. There are no lady’s clothes, and I’m also in the immodest position of wearing naught but a man’s shirt.

The room is well-appointed, if not as grand as the one upon the Blighten ship. A broad, oak table fills the space before the window, strewn with scrolls and weighted maps. A bedding nook sits to the right of the door, hidden behind royal blue drapes. A row of small windows, divided into tiny panes by muntin, allow bright sunlight to bathe the room.

Raglan stands before the table. The white shirt he wears stretches over muscles of shoulders and arms in a most alluring way, a smart leather jerkin, and leather pants molded to powerful thighs. His hair is tied back in a cue revealing his handsome face. The Orc’s blade has left a fearsome scar that dissects one eyebrow and cheek but does nothing to distract from his roguish, otherworldly beauty. I feel a little shy in seeing this clean, finely-dressed version of him.

To either side of him, Caden and Brook stand. Poor Brook is still bruised and battered from his many fights for the Orc’s sport. I might feel more sorry for him were he not wearing a broad grin.

“It was a long time ago,” I say, nervously eyeing the instruments of punishment, which are laid in a row upon the big oak table. “Are you going to use all of them?” I blurt out. “No, don’t tell me. I do not want to know!”

“She is never good about her punishment,” Caden says, immediately spilling the tale before the more dominant male. My glare does not deter him; instead, it puts a gleam in his eyes. “I’ve never known a lass make as much fuss as Priya does. Wailing, pleading, cursing, offering up all manner of false promises.”

“She has gotten a little better,” Brook says. “More often, she accepts her maintenance discipline meekly.”

“Maintenance discipline?” Raglan muses. I do not like his lazy smirk one bit. “And how does she respond after?” he asks of Caden and Brook like I’m not standing before them, wringing my hands with tension and fear.

“The lass responds perfectly and is usually drenched and needy long before