Broken Captive (Wren's Song 3)

Whatever he saw determined which woman he’d summon to service him.

Usually it was Rosie, days on her knees having left their mark in rug burn and scrapes. But Wren had also seen a lovely black-haired doll. A red-head with smiling lips and a vacant expression. And others who’d faded into the background.

Some arrived obviously high, eyes half-lidded and swaying on their feet. Some came reeking of perfume, their clothing already mussed from another male’s use.

Not a single one of them looked at Wren, as if ordered to ignore the mangled Omega and her mockery of a nest.

But Rosie, she always snuck a glance when Caspian wasn’t looking.

Usually after the First Alpha had sent her sprawling with a shove, and stood over his healing prize, splashing the jets of warm cum Rosie’s hard work had inspired over Wren’s bared tits and cunt.

Zipping up, he’d leave Wren coated in seed, ignoring where Rosie gathered herself from the floor, and went about his business.

Until his cock would grow hard again, and Rosie, again, would be ordered to her knees to drain him. Sometimes he bent the blonde over in half, ass up at the edge of the bed so Caspian’s mouth could sample the delights of his caught prize while he fucked a pussy he could pound with all the violent enthusiasm Wren knew he wanted to pour upon her.

She wondered why he even bothered to play a game that clearly made him miserable.

When all three of the males gathered nightly to share her as one, the trio were savage, snapping teeth and guttural grunts. It was only in these private moments Caspian seemed cautious.

After hours of this charade, after he’d fumbled through papers and worked via the data relay on his arm, the flavor-of-the-day would be ordered away with a blunt, “Get out,” and only when they were alone, would Caspian creep into Wren’s nest.

The cock that had been in another woman’s mouth or pussy would then be buried between her thighs, the brutal First Alpha struggling to take her as gently as a barbarian might. When he knotted, felt her traitorous cunt’s pulsating and eager response, a low whine always intermingled within his moans.

Only once he’d done this, forgetting Rosie was still in the room.

The blonde Omega had watched the entire exchange, her face blank of all emotion. When Caspian’s knot had subsided, when he’d kissed the back of Wren’s neck, licked at the scars he’d left on her throat, and praised her with the filthiest words he might find, he left the nest to take a piss.

His eyes had caught on Rosie.

The look he’d given her was… callous.

As if she were as insignificant as an empty dish, he continued forward and left the women alone together for the brief time it would take to drain his bladder.

“Monsters, all of them.” Hard words from a hard woman, Rosie slicing through Wren with a razor sharp gaze. “Wipe that look off your face. Never let an Alpha see.”

The look in question was shame. Wren was inundated with it.

For coming so hard the world had gone fuzzy. For mewing and urging the male who’d just used another woman to show her his physical affections. For wanting the woman who had pleasured him with her mouth for hours to see that it was really her cunt he craved. For debasing herself. For enjoying it. For being a petty bitch who was so fucking riddled with secret jealousy she wanted to tear every woman who’d known Caspian’s attention limb from limb. Who knew that such thoughts were evil and tried to stuff them down so far she felt nothing, saw nothing, but the way he looked at her as he used them.

Who was slowly going insane with worry for her boys.

And whose fingers were still trapped in splints. Who was silent and anxious, yet still got wet when the First Alpha gave her that look.

Pouring a glass of water, Rosie brought it over and held it to Wren’s mouth. “We’ll never be friends. Don’t look to me for help.”

The door opened, Toby walking it to find Rosie at his mate’s bedside.

Before he might reach over and snap her neck, Rosie said, “Your Omega can’t properly nest under these conditions. This bedding is filthy. The mattress reeks of other women. Take better care of your things or put her in the pen where she can take care of herself.”

And like a truly uppity bitch, she tossed her blonde hair, and walk right past the seething male.

Within the hour, the mattress, pillows, blankets, all of it, had been carted away and replaced with new. Toby, with Caspian lingering near his work, stood by and watched Wren build a real nest. Both of them leaning on their portion of the link—aware that despite her blank expression, she was elated to be free of the horrible smell.