Born Captive (Broken Angel 1)
Reaching underneath the sink, he pulled out a big bag of Epsom salt. He opened the bag and rolled the contents into the water.
“Now?” Wren asked, timidly.
“So sweet,” Lucas cried.
Vash lowered his lids and nodded. “Now is fine, Precious.”
The water filled her with a misty happiness. She would not be able to remember her past. She did not have a beginning like the alphas did. But if she followed their rules, she could bask in the small things.
She lowered her ass into the water and relished the comfort of the heat. All of the alphas’ eyes were on her. “I love it,” she whispered with joy and happiness.
Grateful. She felt grateful. It was the first time in a while that she felt anything. Smiling, she flicked her index finger against the rippling liquid. “I really love it.”
“We made this for you,” Lucas said with glee.
Killian gave a grunt of support. “We want to prep you.”
Her joy turned stale. Looking down at her tight belly and small navel, she remembered. “Oh. The baby.”
“Precious.”
Vash and the alphas wet their toes in the tub with her. Their husky figures lowered, consuming her in their grasp. Would they take her again? No. They were being… gentle.
“We won’t talk about the child anymore,” Vash declared to the men. The others agreed.
Tending to her wounds, they kissed and sucked, and washed the red away with a soapy sponge. The tub was a mess of filth and unknown muck from the pipes, but as they filtered in more hot water, they made her clean.
Wren didn’t know how to thank them. She couldn’t begin to count how many hours she spent thinking about the filth she couldn’t wipe away. Some nights, she would lick the edges of a wound in hopes it would keep an infection away. Eventually, she gave up.
The throbbing masses of their cocks rose against the water. Without speaking, she lowered her head to lap at the overwrought heads. Their sacs, still so swollen with ache, looked ready to drain once more.
“She is learning.” Vash tilted his head back, proudly displaying his teeth.
She knew what they required now. Less teeth. More tongue. They liked to see her gag and spit up her liquids onto the veiny shafts. Taking in a giant mouthful, she managed to barely squeeze in all three until hot spurts of their cum shot across the back of her palate and throat. Acting pleased, she swallowed all they had to offer.
This was the first time they’d enjoyed her efforts in the comfort of the light. As the water drained into the rusted pipes, she held their members and licked the edges until they collapsed into their fleshy mounds of foreskin.
Vash tilted his head back and exhaled with pleasure. Shuddering, Wren watched as he stepped out of the tub, leaning against the sink in sudden pain.
“Get her out of here,” he moaned.
Wren lowered her eyelids and searched the draining tub for her wrongdoing. “Have I done something wrong?” she asked.
Both Killian and Lucas grabbed her arms. Frantic, Wren started to cry. Vash’s eyes twitched before focusing on her erect nipples. He felt his needs start to consume him, and the rush of fear stopped them.
“Wait,” he grunted. “Go make the bed. I will dry her body.”
The two alphas took away their hands. His momentary needs met, Killian nodded. Lucas too had been pleased, but any knotting needed to be handled together.
“We are a pack,” Lucas said.
“I won’t let myself knot,” Vash said, steadily reading his expressions. Lucas nodded and left the room.
For a few moments, Vash simply took in the humid air. It was starting to eat him again. The fucking parasite that his brother Cassian dropped into his eye was working its way into his consciousness. Because of the slave’s actions, there was no doctor to help him. He couldn’t forget that.
Fearing the worst, he suddenly wished his kits hadn’t been destroyed. Vash had sacrificed his life to get the right treatment, and now, all of that was for nothing. Wren could see his discomfort by the ripples of stress he carried around his eyes. She could feel the worry like it was her own.
Sensing his anger toward her, she pounced around his ankles, arms coiling like the roots of a tree. “I’m sorry,” she whined. “It’ll never happen again.”