Born Captive (Broken Angel 1)

Twisting Wren’s taut nipples, Killian lowered his mouth and applied heat to her neck. His rough facial hairs scratched her like sandpaper. Strangely, she enjoyed it. “Do you adore the taste of your pussy, Precious?”

They’d taught her so many words, too. “Pussy,” she whispered.

Wren gulped the sour taste down and smiled. As she enjoyed the warmth Killian gave her body, she sank into his wide chest. “You have taught me to enjoy so many different things,” she said.

As cute as Wren was, Vash ignored her new optimism. Glancing down at her fine heap of pubic hair, he asked the men, “What is the viscosity and transparency of her vaginal excretions?”

“No more clear, bright crimson blood,” Killian said, cruelly.

“She won’t bleed anymore,” Lucas said.

Leaning over Killian’s body, Wren felt her pride escalate. “I have learned how to take you.” She giggled.

Vash bent his mouth over the prickly muff. Tasting the viscid slick that leaked like slow-moving lava, he held her legs spread. “She will reach the peak of her ovulation in a few days’ time,” he said.

Killian nodded but looked slightly worried. The barracks wasn’t a safe place for fugitive traders, such as them. If Cassian was to find them somewhere, it was there. “Will we make her a nest in the barracks?”

Lost in thought, Vash said, “I’m not sure.”

Admittedly, he hadn’t thought that part of the plan through. He and the alphas talked it through for days but couldn’t agree on the next steps. Lucas, for one, was completely against the idea.

“The barracks is big enough to blend in,” Vash argued.

Lucas’s eyes flashed so wicked Wren’s backside curled against Killian for more support. “I don’t give a flying fuck. I’m not risking my life for this.”

“Aidrick. He’s my Plan B,” Vash said.

“He will turn us in, the snake,” Lucas hissed.

Aidrick was a trader from the south sea border zones, near the coast of Dagon. Though he wasn’t technically a part of Cassian’s regime, he benefited from their business. Vash always thought of him as a good friend, but it was clear Lucas thought differently.

“I need those kits, Lucas,” Vash said, trying not to argue in front of the omega.

“Then buy the kits in Dagon. There are street vendors on every corner,” Lucas said. “I don’t understand the danger of staying in a city like Dagon. For one, there are enough CTV cameras to fill an island. Two, it’s practically run by Cassian and his men. Sure, the barracks weren’t safe, but we have a better chance of keeping the bitch in our control if we keep moving.”

“The tests have a high probability of being faulty,” Vash argued. “Plus, you know the regulations put on doctors and specialists.”

“Used to be we didn’t have to follow the law,” Lucas said.

“When a citizen makes an appointment with any specialist, it must be documented with the correct identification software to register the person’s thumbprint,” Vash said.

Killian wound his arms around Wren’s soft body, squeezing lightly. “Vash is right. We need to be careful. We don’t have the privilege we used to have.”

“What makes you so sure we’ll find what we need in the barracks?” Lucas asked.

Killian felt the urge to throw fists. The more he thought about the future, the less certain he became. “Whether we like it or not, we need to keep moving.”

Vash wanted to keep her as she was. The outside world was full of things that could taint the omega, reintroducing her to ideas that would ultimately lead to her regression. None of them wanted that, but the looming threat of torturous imprisonment and even death seemed like a worse fate.

Vash slammed his fist against the drywall until it left the prints of his knuckles. “Enough!” he screamed. “Cassian’s overconfidence and stupidity led me to her. Me. I found her, which is why it is now my choice to make the next move.”

Lucas showed his rage. “We will not make her nest in that… place.”

“Very well,” Vash said.

None of the arguing should have been done in front of Wren. When they hurled insults at each other, it frightened the brittle flower, now closer to ovulation and, in the near future, child rearing. If they kept it up, she would surely try to make a run for it.

“Please stop fighting,” she whispered, soft and sweet.