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

“I will undress you next time,” he says, pressing kisses over my face before capturing my lips. I open to the kiss, our tongues tangling. The kiss wraps a new, heightened level of rapture over the blissful fullness of his cock and knot.

His hips rock harder as he tests the hold of the knot.

He lied about undressing me. The knot has not fully softened before he pulls out. A gush of combined cum floods before he snaps his hips and fills me again. It takes him a little longer this time, but not by much.

I giggle, blissed out on his attention when he finally strips us both before rejoining me on the bed.

We take the time to relearn about each other.

Distantly, I know that troubles will be waiting for us pertaining to my fourth mate.

Hawthorn

I roll onto my back, and still knotted, let Priya’s cheek rest against my chest where my scent and purr are strongest. My hands cannot keep still, roaming over soft flesh as I familiarize myself with my long absent mate. She has lost a little weight. I vow to feed the little imp honey cake until all her gentle curves are back.

“I missed you, Hawthorn,” she says, pressing a kiss to the center of my chest. “I missed you so much, and I’m sorry I ran away.”

“Hush, lass.” I try to soothe her, but she is inconsolable, and tears soon fall.

“I lost Posey!”

“Aye, lass, I know.”

“Make it go away, Hawthorn. Make me forget all the terrifying things that happened, even if it’s only for a while.”

I roll again, taking her under me. Rocking my hips, for I am still knotted and cannot fuck her like she needs yet. Her tears make a river that I swipe away with my thumbs as I cup her small face. I kiss each of her beautiful eyes, her nose. Then I kiss her lips like the world might end at any moment, and she and I are all that’s left.

As my knot softens, I fuck into her welcoming heat and do my best to take her mind off her sorrows.

We kiss, greedy for each other, and when I knot her again, she falls into an exhausted sleep.

Priya

I fall asleep in Hawthorn’s arms . . . and I wake up in Caden’s. His spicy scent is under my nose, where I’m nestled against his chest. Behind me, Brook has pressed in tightly the way I like. His breath is slow and sleepy yet still rumbling a faint purr.

I sit up with a jerk, disorientated, fearful that I’m still on the hated ship, and Hawthorn was naught but a sweet dream. As I note the soft bedding and decadent room, my racing heart slows. “Where is Hawthorn?” I demand.

“Steady, lass,” Caden says, running a gentle hand over my shoulder. “He is not far away, but he needed to settle his place with Raglan.”

“No!” I say, although I don’t know what I’m saying no to. A thousand things perhaps. I’m off the bed in a flash, feet pattering against the plush rug upon the floor as I dart to the window. “No!” I say again, only this time it has a plaintive sound, and I’m saying no to the sight of my beloved mates fighting.

Caden’s arm snakes around to gather me to him. I screech, wrestle, and sob.

“Hush, lass,” he says. “They need to sort differences out, or there will never be order.”

The fight leaves me as quickly as it arrives as my body is bathed by a wave of heat. “Oh!” My womb contracts violently. My hands press to my lower abdomen as the gripping pains assault me. “Goddess help me!” My two mates crowd around me, purring and soothing my body with gentle hands, trying to bring calm.

“Easy, lass,” Brook says. “Let your body submit to it. If you fight, it will make it worse.”

But I do fight, and the cramps tear into me until I’m sure I will burst apart.

The pain ceases abruptly, and I pant, dizzy and trembly. “Oh!” A guttural cry accompanies another deep contraction but this one lower and intensely pleasurable. Pressure builds up until a thick river of slick is pushed out of my clenching pussy to splat against the floor.

It offers momentary relief before the contractions bear down upon me once again. And this time, they are worse.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Hawthorn

“WHY ARE YOU not fucking fighting?” I roar. I’m incensed that Raglan is toying with me and heart-sore that my place as first Alpha will soon be lost.

“I am not fucking toying with you!” He slugs me on the jaw as if to dispute my claim. My head whips around, and blood sprays from my mouth. It feels like the blow has taken my head from my shoulders, but no, everything is still hurting, so I am not yet dead.

“I do not want to be fucking first. I do not deserve to be first!” Raglan roars back.

I’m swinging a punch when he speaks, and the momentum goes out of it. I skim the side of his jaw, and my whole body crashes into his.

He staggers back, grunting as the contact ejects air from his lungs. “Fuck, you’re a heavy bastard!”

I chuckle for reasons that escape me. “I think I need to sit a bit,” I say. We both sit-collapse to the ground. I’m inordinately pleased that he did not get through the experience unscathed and is even a bit winded.

“I don’t want to take your fucking place,” he says, holding my eyes.

“Then why the fuck are we fighting?” I demand. My head is ringing, and every inch of me is throbbing. I’m in no fit state for complex conversations.

“Because you are a thick-headed bastard at times, and I figured you needed to work through some of your rage.”

This is a fair point, but I still glare at him. He smirks back, then winces when the movement tugs at a cut. “Did you