Claimed for their Pleasure by L.V. Lane

Prologue

Jessa

A FAINT RUSTLING rouses me from a deep sleep.

As I open my eyes, I see a brown rabbit watching me with interest. A slim clover leaf disappears between its teeth before it leans down and snatches up another clump.

Sitting no more than a handspan from my face, it shows not a bit of fear.

“Uhhh!” As I heave myself to a sitting position, the bunny bounds off, its white tail flashing.

I am outside, curled up against the roots of a great oak tree. The forest around me is cast into shades of grey. A few birds have begun to chatter, signifying dawn’s approach.

I am stiff and cold. Not for the first time, I have sleepwalked, and I do not recognize where I am.

My lips tremble as the fear crashes in. Stupid tears spring and spill over my cheeks.

I quickly brush the tears away. I’m fifteen, too old for self-pity.

Papa will be rousing by now. As a carpenter, he always has plenty of work to do in the workshop adjoining our home. My mother will be up and about, too, making biscuits to go with the porridge. My younger siblings might still be napping or awake and making their noisy demands.

Only they will be doing none of their usual things, for by now they will have realized I have gone.

My nightgown is covered in dirty smudges, leaves, and bits of twig. Heaving myself to my feet, I brush it off, although it is assuredly beyond saving. No matter how well they lock and bolt doors, nothing defeats my sleep-driven ingenuity when it comes to escaping our home.

Molly, the Omega from the Baxter clan, says I have a wanderer’s soul and am searching for something. The womenfolk of the clan often go to her for advice, for she is both old and wise.

Well, I wish I could find the blasted thing so that I might not wander anymore.

Turning full circle, I try to orientate myself. Sickness settles in my tummy. I need to try and find my way home.

Thirsty and shivering, I make my way down a slope.

Is that water?

I think it is.

Following the sound of water, I emerge onto a rocky gorge, from which water cascades into a river far below. A thick tree has fallen over the rocks but is weather-worn and long since stripped of branches.

I do not know this place.

The river appears to curve, although it is hard to see far in the dawn light made darker by thick cloud cover.

Everything about this feels wrong, and panic brings a tightness to my chest. I am thirsty and tired, and my feet have blistered such that every step is like a knife. The rocks are steep and treacherous here, and I cannot even reach the water to drink. Since I woke, I have covered a fair distance, and I am no longer sure I can find my way back.

A deep growl sets the hairs rising on the back of my neck. No, not a single deep growl; there are several.

Turning slowly, I face this new trouble.

“Goddess!” I whisper as three wolves emerge between the trees. Beautiful and deadly; they are wary, watching me through their cold eyes. I am small for my age. Happen they like their chances of taking me for a meal.

The coarse ground around me offers a few smaller rocks that might make a weapon. Trembling, I slowly bend and pick up one, comforted by its weight in my hand.

Should I throw it now? Should I wait and see if they leave? Should I shout and wave my arms?

Wolves never come near the village. They do not like the scent of the shifters living within our community. When I was little, I remember fearing for my papa when he would go into the forest with the men of the village to cut trees. A small child at the time, he had sat me on his lap and explained that wolves rarely attacked humans who are far too big to be seen as prey. Further, he explained that wolves are nocturnal and mostly hunt at night.

We are not yet into spring, the nights are long, and as our hunters attest, game is scarce.

The central wolf lifts his head and howls. The other two take up the cry.

The sound chills me more deeply than the icy rocks under my feet. I grip my weapon-rock so fiercely that my fingers begin to ache.

I will not become their next meal.

With a roar, I toss the rock with all my might. It skitters across the stones harmlessly. The nearest wolf nimbly dodges it before returning his attention to me. The rightmost wolf howls again.

The cry is returned by another wolf in the distance.

They are calling their pack!

I’m about to throw another rock when a great snarling beast leaps from the trees for the leading wolf. They clash together in a twisting ball of fur and teeth. The two smaller wolves dance back, snarling, circling, and nipping at the newcomer.

The newcomer is far too large to be a natural wolf.

Shifter.

My heart pounds furiously as they engage in a deadly dance, growling and snapping their teeth.

A smaller wolf dives for the shifter. But he is taken savagely by the throat, shaken, and tossed aside.

Yipping with pain, the downed wolf struggles to its feet.

As the shifter moves to stand between the wolves and me, he throws his head back and howls. A chilling sound that sends a great shudder through my body.

The wolves turn and flee, darting back into the forest.

The shifter wolf throws a look over his shoulder at me. There is blood covering his snout and beautiful tawny coat.

The rock drops from my fingers. I recognize his coat, although I have never seen it bloody.

I swallow past the lump in my throat. Brandon. Oh, why does it have to be Brandon, the handsome lad from our village that can tie my tongue in knots simply by glancing my way!

He shifts.

Naked and covered in blood, his face remains stern with censure as he stalks toward me.

“It is not my fault!” I say before he can utter a word. Brow furrowed and jaw tight, he stalks closer.

My eyes lower. I don’t mean for them to lower, but they have a mind of their own. It is not polite to look at a naked shifter who has not had a chance to dress. Children are naturally curious. I admit I peeked on occasions when I was younger. As I matured, I understood the rudeness of it and have not looked in many years.

Goddess save me. I do not think I have seen Brandon’s cock before. It hangs fat and long between his legs, swinging with every step in the most arresting way.

“Eyes up!” Brandon snaps as he closes in on me.

I back up a step. My eyes lift to meet his narrowed ones briefly before they dart back down. How does it fit…

I yelp as he fists my arm.

“You are a fucking test,” he growls before tossing me over the nearby fallen tree and landing a firm spank to my bottom.

“It is not polite to look at an undressed shifter who is not your mate!”

Spank!

“I have scouted all over the territory looking for you!”

Spank!

“Your parents are beside themselves!”

Spank!

“You assuredly did not get all the way over here during your sleepwalk.”

Spank!

“Had you stayed put, I would have found you long ago.”

Spank! Spank! Spank!

“I am sorry!” I wail. My nightgown barely shields me from his palm. Papa has never disciplined me, for I am never naughty. I am shocked by how greatly this stings.

“I am still fucking furious!” he growls. “Gods, I cannot get the fear out of my mind from when I saw they had cornered you!”

The dam breaks inside me, and I fall to sobbing. I feel both his anger and fear as if it were my own. A small, deeply tucked place inside my chest blooms to awareness. My bottom throbs, but so does my head and my heart.

He stops. Heaving me from the tree, he takes a seat and puts me on his lap. “There, lass,” he says, pressing my cheek into his chest and making the sweet rumbly sound all shifters can make. “You are too old for this nonsense.”

“I thought I recognized where I was,” I mumble into his chest, shaking violently as the magnitude of what just happened comes crashing in.

“Aye,” Brandon says. “You know what thought did. He followed a muck cart and thought it was a wedding.”

I chuckle.

Brandon chuckles, too, a pleasant rumble under my ear.

“That is a terrible saying,” I say. The warmth from his big body is seeping into me, making me wish I could burrow under his skin.

“Aye, that it is,” Brandon says. “But things are going to change. From now on, I will be watching your house of a night. And rest assured, I will put you straight back inside should you try wandering in your sleep again.”

“Thank you,” I say. The little place tucked inside my chest blossoms further. I take comfort that he will watch over me. There is a rightness about it.

His arms make a gentle cage around me, inside which I am safe. I become aware that I am sitting on his lap and that he is still naked. Many lasses in the village swoon over Brandon, for he is very handsome. Further, he is best friends with our clan king’s brother and has a high status.

I can admit that I have noticed him. Papa says I am too young to be thinking about boys. Although, my mother always winks behind his back whenever he voices this determination.

When I peep at Brandon through my lashes, I notice he’s watching me. His eyes are a bright clear blue. Wolf eyes, they call them, for all shifters have them.

“Half the village is out looking for you,” he says gruffly. “We need to get back.”

Only he doesn’t move, and I don’t either. My gaze lowers to his lips.

“Don’t fucking look at me like that, lass,” he says.

I swallow. This close, his sharp white fangs are visible when he speaks.

Then I glance up and find he is staring at my mouth. My lips part on a gasp. Is he going to kiss me?

“Oh!” I am unceremoniously dumped onto the ground as he stands. Not yet having a chance to right myself, he shifts to a wolf and closes his teeth over my nightgown. “Goddess!”

He tugs, pulling me over again with a warning growl.

I try to bat him away, but he is far too big and far too strong. Pushing me onto my stomach, he closes his teeth over the back of my nightgown and lifts me clear from the ground. He is so huge that I dangle thus.

“Brandon!” I wail. “What are you doing?” Oh, he can’t mean to carry me all the way home like this, can he? At his low growl, I still, arms and legs hanging. This is assuredly not a comfortable way to travel.

Just as I am about to demand he put me down, he bounds off into the forest.