Ravaged Captive (Wren's Song 4)

That flicker of defiance glowed like an ember in lavender eyes he’d mourned. Those lovely eyes said what her lack of voice, what her manner, never would. That he had been the one to cast her out in the first place.

That all they had suffered over the last week was at his hand.

And that they would never speak of it.

Caspian sealed their unspoken pact with a lingering kiss, draped over her naked, filthy body. And then he gave her a gift.

He whispered a truth at her ear. “I missed you, pretty mouse.”

Chapter 2

How could something cause pain yet still feel like home?

Caspian’s warm breath fanning her cheek, Wren’s pelvis free of a knot her body had not been quite ready to handle, she shivered, gnawing hunger eating her belly.

Yet did not feel misery as she should.

Perhaps it was the Alpha purr he poured upon her flesh. Maybe it was the smell of familiar male. That had to be what drew her nose to his vulnerable throat. Not that she sought comfort from this man. Not that she longed to be held properly.

Deep breaths, instinct drove her to find solace in his scent, to saturate her cells in it, to forget the stink of the Warrens and the aches in her bones.

If he’d offered her water in that moment, she would have lapped it out of his palms like a dog. Food of any sort, she’d swallow past a gritty throat to fill an aching belly—so long as he’d been the one to place it in her mouth.

Even here. Even on display.

Having not shaved since last she’d seen him, Caspian’s cheek bristled with the early growth of a beard. It scratched at her skin when she’d thrown an arm around his neck, rubbing her cheek to his in search of more scent.

Familiar, warm, steady, and powerful.

Guts churning, her skin buzzed as if she’d been drugged.

Or was that the fading remnants of panic, all of it washing away the more lightheaded she grew?

Had it not been for the hand poorly finger-combing her hair, for the little zings of pain each time a knot caught, Wren would have fallen asleep as she was.

Naked. Splayed on a work table where any with a view of their Alpha’s terrace might see. Clinging to a monster.

Filthy and caged by the arms of a dangerous man.

God, she was thirsty.

Licking at her own drying tears in an effort to soothe her parched throat, a pink tongue darted, traced, and came back tasting of salt and dirt.

Hooded, mud-colored eyes took in the way she worked to swallow, and the entirety of Caspian’s demeanor shifted.

The rare softening of his expression cinched crudely into the hard countenance of a leader. A remorseless killer. Eyes glazed, he reached between their bodies and cupped what still spilled from her womb, lifting the slippery pearlescent fluid and bringing it to her lips.

The offering was less about domination and more about Alpha impulse, not that it mattered. Wren swallowed what slid from his palm to her mouth.

She sucked his fingers as if she might find another drop.

Exhausted.

Shaken.

Starving for so much more than food.

A lovely, soft enticement of noise—so unlike any offering he’d made before—preceded another sip of slick-laced cum. Feeding her more of their shared fluids, Caspian held her eyes.

The male didn’t blink.

“Don’t interrupt them.”

It sounded distant, that voice. As did the small scuffle preceding, “Get your hands off me, Toby.”

“My mate needs water, food, a bath before she can handle more.”

“Caspian!” The Second’s call was dripping with anger.

At the sound of his name, brown eyes that had mesmerized her into a slack, purring mass snapped out of their trance. Slicing his attention to the side, Caspian said nothing.

He didn’t need to. The threat of his gaze was more than enough.

Fearless in his approach, Kieran shook off Toby’s grip. Chillingly cold, he staked his claim. “As Second, she’s mine now. Toby has no right to fuck her, feed her, or even look at her until I give the nod.”

Lips pulled back from gnashing teeth, Toby snarled like a wolf. “Watch yourself. She’s my mate! Claimed!” Snapping from angry to manic, a nasty laugh cracked through the air. “You have your own now. Go play with her.”

The meanness of his grin stole any beauty from Kieran’s face. “You made the deal, Toby. This female is for the pack until Caspian doesn’t want her. You agreed to third rank so long as you are allowed to keep her when that day comes. Until then, back the fuck off or forfeit the Warren’s rat totally.”

At the slander, Wren found the strength to turn her head.

Toby stared down at her with something so honest, it seemed unnatural. Adoration, a brief flash of victory, all wiped from his gaze when his eyes left her face to land on Caspian. “Boss, she can’t have eaten in days. She needs water or she won’t make slick. If he fucks her now, Kieran will damage her.”