Ravaged Captive (Wren's Song 4)

Warmth disappeared, the pleasing weight of male leaving her ridiculous, draped on the table like tossed aside leavings. With him gone, a modicum of dignity returned.

Rising to her elbows, legs noodly and vision swimming, Wren tried and failed to get up.

The slip and subsequent oomph that followed when her head banged back against the tabletop was not missed by any of the males.

Males who stared, each intense in their own way.

Kieran broke the silence. “I’m not the one who damages females, sir. Nothing I might do would kill her.”

Throat working, a vein in his temple pounding out a fast rhythm, Caspian turned his back on her. And it looked as if he staggered. Tucking away his flaccid cock, the First Alpha snarled, “If I find a single fresh bruise, or the mouse is returned to me in any state other than pristine, Kieran, I’ll hold you down while Toby fucks you with his mangled knot in any sick way the bastard can dream up. I doubt you’d survive it.”

As if to test his First Alpha’s resolve, Kieran made a grab for the reeling Omega. Female swept up over his shoulder, ass up, her leaking pussy exposed for anyone he might walk past, he brushed by the pair and carried her away.

Long past mortification or any kind of rational sense, Wren closed her eyes to it all, oblivious if a single soul saw her shame—yet painfully aware that such a display was not unusual in Caspian’s pipeworks.

Chapter 3

Had the walls not been solid concrete, they would have trembled from the force of Kieran slamming the door. Despite her full-body jolt, Wren saw nothing of this—her nose to the Second’s back, weak arms hanging limp.

Conserving her strength, she didn’t even raise her head.

After all, there was no need to view the room to know where they were. The musk of old and new sex permeated the air, cloying and tart… telling.

The big room.

And it reeked of fresh and clotted fluids.

Scent markers of Kieran’s cum left her nose to twitch, while the saccharine smell of Omega slick left it running.

As if the wave of scent hit the Alpha just as hard, Kieran froze. Chest expanding on a deep breath, he brought her to slowly slide down his front, silently daring her to break eye contact once he’d caught her gaze.

Hard muscle, chest almost as broad as Caspian’s. Male. He made certain her body felt the differences between them and didn’t seem to care about the smears of dirt and fluids she’d left in her wake.

He might not have even noticed, glaring as he was.

So much anger lay naked in those green eyes, the threat of violence simmering on the surface. And what did he see in her gaze?

Wren could not even begin to imagine.

A brave Omega who had come to demand restitution for her boys? Probably not. Her body had yet to fully come down from Caspian’s influence. Most likely her pupils were still partially blown. Open invitation as far as Alphas went.

But did he see how world-weary she was under the haze?

How thirsty? Starved? Lonely?

Did he see that she was frightened, but not of him?

Or did the Second Alpha only see a nameless Omega to expend his personal frustrations upon?

The silent back and forth between them ended when her toes touched ground. Under her, was discarded laundry.

Something moist.

The distraction was all it took to snap her out of the foolishness of meeting, of challenging, an Alpha’s gaze.

Lowering her eyes, she couldn’t help the sound that escaped her lips when she saw what he had placed her upon.

Familiar fabric she had loved, rescued from rot, and sewn into her best dress. And it was covered in another woman’s slick. Crusted, as if used repeatedly to wipe a spent cock upon.

Crumpled and discarded.

He’d had his new mate wear it. Wear her dress when Kieran had thought she was dead. A mate that had been made to look like her. Who had been ordered to be silent.

And though she should have shored herself up better, been stronger, her heart broke a little for Kieran in that moment.

These were not the actions of an ambivalent male. Her loss had caused him grief.

Grief expended foolishly, if the state of the room was any indication.

This male had no idea how to feel. None of the Alphas did. But Toby was correct; Kieran was the most broken.

And now he would break her in retribution.

While he did it, he’d crave empathy, he’d secretly scream for compassion. He wouldn’t understand why he felt the things he did, and he would blame her for the discomfort of wretchedness.

This man, the one who had spent a week fucking a stranger who looked like her, was beyond saving.

And that—that one horrible notion—was what made her eyes sting.

Before he might see and misunderstand, Wren stepped back.