Silent Captive (Wren's Song 2)

Eyes darting back to the plate with a sandwich and beautiful, fat grapes, Wren swallowed another bite.

There must have been an unpleasant expression on her face, for Caspian narrowed his eyes, and growled, “It’s supposed to be good for you. And you’ll eat it all, every day.”

Spoon in her mouth, she offered a conciliatory smile. Food was food, and she was grateful. Displaying her gratitude the only way she know he might grasp, she ate with vigor. Which was honestly easier—swallowing quickly dulled a portion of the non-taste.

“Good girl.” When the last glob was swallowed, Caspian pointed to a pitcher under a dripping spout. “Water is there. You can drink as much as you want.”

Kieran had said something similar when he’d fed her lunch, but it was still an almost jarring thing to hear. All the water you want, whenever you want.

The Alpha obviously expected her to drink some now, so Wren stood and filled two glasses. Handing one to him, she saw bewilderment on his face. But he took the cup and drained it as she drained hers.

“Have you had enough?”

She nodded.

“Good. I’m tired of waiting.” Snatching her empty cup from Wren’s hands, Caspian tossed them to patter over the table, and was on her a second later. Back to the wall, hot Alpha muscle melting her front, she gasped in surprise and found his tongue twisting into her mouth.

She’d heard him climax. Smelled both his cum and a foreign Omega’s arousal in the air.

She’d seen the slick soaked, discarded panties left by the leather chair!

What was he doing?

Yanking too hard at the zipper on the pretty blue dress led to the sound of tearing seams and another gasp. Fabric fell off one shoulder, hot lips fastening to uncovered skin long enough for her to draw breath.

An endless Alpha growl worked against her shock, the pooling slick in the gusset of her panties already overflowing to trickle down pale thighs.

That’s what he was after…

Her scent.

Caspian ran his hands through it, spread it over her hips, her ass. He rubbed it into blue fabric. In two minutes flat, he made a soggy mess of her.

Clit throbbing, head swimming from the way he continued to take her mouth, Wren began to whine for mercy from that unrelenting growl. Her pussy was already pooling with slick, her body responding exactly as it should have. But still he continued to rumble out a call.

Female fingers went over his mouth in a bid to silence him. He bit her, growling all the louder.

Enough had been done to her today that this endless rumble, something so simple as a noise, was enough to set her insides to choke on nothing. It wasn’t an orgasm; it was a bid for mercy amidst her total confusion.

Yes, his hand gripped her ass. Yes, a warm palm kneaded a blue-draped breast. But where he was focusing his attack was painfully ignored.

Punishment?

Was this for knocking at his door and making him get up to answer? Or for pulling a face at his generous offer of food?

Hooking her leg at his hip she ground against his knee and could have groaned in agony when it was not enough.

Not so long as he made that noise.

His hand when to his fly. The male who smelled of another woman, whose cock was most likely still smeared with her red lipstick, was going to fuck her like this, in the most degrading way imaginable.

Wren grew angry. Barking a growl of her own, she shoved him back.

Panting, eyes wild and pupils enlarged, the Alpha roared, “Are you telling me no?”

She put a hand to his thumping heart and tried to catch her breath. Suffocating on the heady stink of ardent Alpha, the lingering reek of another Omega, her own slippery offering, her body’s response was a jangled mix of instinctual demands.

Present, be fucked. Reject, protect yourself.

“I gave you food and water!”

Wren closed her eyes, unsure why the room was spinning.

“Shelter. My finest room!”

She nodded, straining her neck forward so she might take a breath of him and be calmed.

Though he practically vibrated with agitation, he let her nose his chest, barking, “Why do you do that? The others don’t. They strip like good whores and bend over.”

The reminder was a necessary one. It didn’t matter if she was overwhelmed, if she was half-sick with the stink in the room, if she wanted it or not. She wasn’t here to enjoy what he did, just to bear it.

Fingers went to the straps of her dress, pulling them down her arms until the garment might slip on its own and pool at her feet. Wren didn’t meet his eye when she shucked the sodden panties next. She just stood there, waiting for a command.

Like a real whore.

When he made no move to direct her, when he failed to touch, she peeked up under her lashes and found him glowering something fierce.