Claimed for their Pleasure by L.V. Lane

 

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Brandon

LEAVING THE VILLAGE, we travel throughout the morning, shaded from the sun by the thick forest canopy, destined for the Halket clan. A lot has happened since we returned from scouting. Fen has taken a mate… one he shares with his brother.

Shares. I can’t wrap my head around the two Alphas sharing a mate. I’ve shared plenty of lasses before, but I couldn’t imagine sharing Jessa. Not now I have committed to her… nor before, if my reaction to Gage handling her is any indication.

Once this nonsense is over, we will speak our vows.

Gods, it might not be so long before we have pups on the way. I hope we have pups. It does not always happen that a mixed-race child can still shift. My mother is not a shifter. My blood comes from my father. There are many shifter families within the clans, living as we do close to the mountains where the pure shifter communities thrive. Sometimes the ability to change is lost over time, and they become regular Betas. But for some, the power is passed down through many generations.

Like mine.

Pups? I can’t believe I am thinking about pups!

“I don’t like leaving Hazel,” Fen says.

It is funny how your best friend’s woes can deliver a little humor. “You are a miserable bastard this morning.”

He shoots me a glare. “You have no reason to talk,” he says. “Aren’t you and Jessa about to take your vows?”

I grunt but do not dispute the recent change in my status. Jessa fills my thoughts, both her sweetness and her lusty responses that blow my mind.

But underneath this joy, there is Gage, the bastard from the Lyon clan. I hated him before he put his hands upon Jessa. That she mentioned him yesterday only serves to further piss me off. “He is not a monster,” she said. “And I won’t let you say that he is.”

No, he is not a monster, but he is a bastard who stands by while members of his clan try to snatch a lass. That makes him culpable in my eyes.

We need alliances in place. I understand this. But my wolf just wants to take the bastards who hurt that Halket lass by the throat and shake them about until they are dead.

And Gage, I would end that bastard too.

An uncomfortable weight settles deep in my gut. Jessa would not like it if I killed Gage, even assuming I could. I’m no fool regarding matters of my prowess. Being a shifter raises me above Beta men and even some Alphas. Gage is a fucking man mountain. I would not submit easily. I know how to fight a man whether he has a sword or an ax or only his fists. I have even defeated an Orc as part of a team.

I have not killed a fucking Orc on my own. The bastard was not posturing when he said he had killed one near our lands. No, he was calm as fuck as he announced it, and there was not a hint of lies on him.

I force Gage from my thoughts. Jack has left for more distant negotiations, while Fen and I travel with three other warriors to speak with Karry, the king of the Halket clan.

I am not expecting much of a welcome after our many altercations with Eric.

But as Jack said yesterday, Fen and I must both step up.

Our pace is brisk, but we slow the horses to a walk as we arrive at the river where a ford allows us to cross.

“What are you going to say?” I ask as we splash through the shallow water.

“I am going to talk plainly,” Fen says.

“Are you going to apologize?” I ask, doing my best to hide a smirk. “For that business with you and Gwen?”

“I am not going to fucking apologize,” Fen says, glaring at me. He likes to bait me. It is only fair that I bait him back. “It is Eric’s own fault for being slow about it. Happen I did him a service helping the matter along.”

I chuckle. “Not sure Eric will consider it in the same light.”

Fen brings his horse to a sudden halt, the rest of us follow suit. “Eric?”

Lying upon the ground, peering over a low, craggy bluff, is a party of warriors from the Halket clan.

“Get down from the fucking horse,” Eric hisses.

Fen bristles at Eric’s tone. I brace myself in case the idiots decide to go at one another. But the rage seeps out of Fen when Gwen turns over to glare up at him. She is usually an even-tempered lass. Perhaps she is still sore about him coming all over her face?

At Fen’s indication, we dismount. Tying off the horses, we creep forward to join Eric and his crew at the edge. To a man and woman, the Halket members turn back to peer over the side.

“Has he claimed you yet?” Fen asks Gwen, crouching between her and Eric. I chuckle softly. Fen does not know when to let a matter drop. Life is never dull.

“He tried,” Gwen says, smirking. “But he needed a bit of help.”

I snort out a laugh. Fen laughs louder. Eric punches him in the arm while shooting him a glare. “Shut the fuck up,” he says. “This is not the time for fucking around. And best you move from between my mate and me, or I will finish what I started last time you got in my fucking way.”

Fen raises both hands in the universal sign of surrender and squat-crawls to the other side of Eric. “About fucking time,” he mutters. Then all business, adds, “Is that Danon?”

We have the vantage of higher ground since the landscape here is rocky with great crumbling boulders that form peaks and troughs.

It is Danon.

My heart rate surges. Danon is Gage’s older brother, the firstborn and heir to the Lyon clan. I hate Gage, but I hate Danon more. Not only does he look like his warmongering father, Rand, he is also cut from the same bastard cloth.

He is not alone. Below, Lyon warriors have dismounted

“What the fuck are they doing on your lands?” Fen asks.

“I do not fucking know,” Eric says. “But they’re not here for diplomatic reasons, like you. And I doubt they have come to apologize.”

“I also am not coming to apologize,” Fen points out.

I shake my head at his diplomatic skills.

“I am not fucking delusional,” Eric says. “The day you apologize for anything is the day the sky turns green. I admit I should have claimed Gwen before… I still want to fucking end you for covering her in your cum.” I snicker to myself. “But I hear you have a mate now, and for her sake, I will restrain myself from such a path. Also, my father has forbidden it since we already have one war.”

I should be more interested in the conversation they are having. I suppose they are starting the discussions early, and in their own way, are mending bridges. It is for the best that Fen and Eric overcome their differences. But my attention is all on the Lyon warriors in the clearing below.

“You are at war then?” Fen asks.

What do the Lyon warriors stare at on the ground? Are they arguing? I want to shift and take a closer look. The hairs on the back of my neck rise, and my buried wolf’s pelt does the same.

“How many are there? Why have you not moved them on?” Fen asks.

“My father ordered us to watch and observe unless the Lyon bastards seek trouble or approach our village. He has gone to speak to the Baxters today,” Eric says. “He believes Lyon are planning an attack after they sent our envoy back tied to his horse dead. My father is an honorable king. He does not seek conflict. We must live with the Lyon bastards as our neighbors. But they took a lass promised to a warrior against her will. Her intended is furious that she was taken thus, but prepared to challenge the Lyon warrior who claimed her in a fair fight. The Lyon clan’s response was to send the envoy back dead.”

My wolf grows restless. He hates the Lyon bastards and is ready to taste their blood.

“We have skirmished with them several times since I caught them trying to snatch the second lass,” Fen says.

“What lass?” Eric asks. “One of yours?”

“No, one of yours. A few days after—” There is a long pause where Fen is doubtless trying to find a non-inflammatory way of mentioning coming over Gwen.

“Gwen,” Eric offers.

I slide a look over, worried they are about to go at one another.

“Yes, after the incident with Gwen. Four of them gave chase and caught a lass. They intended to rut and claim her there. It was not so far from your village. They slapped her to quieten her. Did no lass return with such a mark?”

“Ellen,” Gwen says, anger glittering in her voice. “I thought it was her mother, who is known to have a temper. The poor lass has not had a good life. Happen she was terrified to speak lest her witchy mother beat her again. She is of age, but her mother refuses to let her mate since she uses the lass as a slave. It’s time your father stepped in and found Ellen a mate who will cherish and protect her. She will come and live with us until this can be settled. That way, I may vet any male who petitions for her.”

“She will not fucking live with us,” Eric says hotly. “We are newly mated and have newly mated needs. Then there are your other two mates. My home is already fucking crowded!”

I raise a brow at the news that Gwen has two other mates. This is unheard of within the clans.

“She will stay with us,” Gwen says, voice sharp like she is thinking of skewering Eric if he does not let the matter drop.

Fen chuckles, but I don’t spare this nonsense a glance. “Fuck!” I say, scrambling to my feet.

Far below, the Lyon warriors are hoisting a wooden framework up into the trees. In the middle is a body. A freshly killed body that is dripping with blood. The dyed leather of the victim is typical of the Halket clan.

Eric roars.

I shift. Shaking out my coat and hungering for the taste of Lyon blood.

Here it is, the beginning of the war.

The Lyon warriors turn as we charge, drawing weapons and shouting to each other to ready. The two sides meet, crashing like great waves into one another. Clashing strikes of weapons, the screams of pain, and my snarls fill the air.

I take a man from behind, knocking him to the ground, teeth closing over the back of his neck.

I shake.

Under my teeth, blood pools, and bones snap.

My focus remains alert to Fen. We have fought together all our adult lives, and even before. We are honed to one another. Seamlessly, I support him, even as I take down the bastards of the Lyon clan.

Some fall.

Some scatter.

And some stand and fight.

At my side, Fen punches, cleaves, and batters any who stand in his way.

A scent fills my nose. My wolf has a good memory for those who have crossed us. I recognize the Beta before me as one of those who tried to take the lass. With a savage snarl, I leap for him, taking his weapon’s arm at the wrist. As his bones crunch, he drops his sword with a yowl. A heartbeat later, I have him by the throat, and he crashes to the forest floor. Blood pools in my mouth. My claws rake his chest as I tug and tug until his throat pops free.

Dead.

Turning, I find a man battling with Fen, an Alpha, and his scent is also familiar.

Barry isthe bastard who slapped Ellen when they tried to snatch her. Fen batters his sword away, and swinging his curving ax, hamstrings Barry as he tries to flee. Barry stumbles, gets his good leg under him, and tries to limp away.

Fen hamstrings his other leg.

My wolf growls his encouragement.

Around us, the sounds have turned from the frenzy of a skirmish to the moaning penance of dying men begging for mercy.

It is over. I shift. Chest heaving, I turn to watch Fen have his sport.

Barry begs. Dragging himself along the ground, legs limp and useless. He is bleeding, leaving a red stain over the loamy forest ground.

Fen smirks, watching the dying man.

“We should string the bastard up,” I say as I come to stand beside Fen. Barry is still trying to crawl, but it is slower and weaker now.

“No,” Fen says, never taking his eyes from the fallen man whose begging has turned pitiful. “He will die slower this way.”

I cannot argue with that.

A call comes from behind, and we turn to find Eric has subdued Danon. The Lyon Alpha snarls and curses as they bind him and set him to his knees.

“There will be retaliation,” Fen says.

Eric nods, face and torso dripping with blood, although I see no obvious wound. His enemy’s blood, I presume. “There will be more than retaliation,” he says. Stalking forward, he punches Danon in the face, sending the bound Alpha sprawling. “They wanted war. War is what they shall get.”

Pivoting, he calls to a nearby warrior. “Cut my father down.”

Only then do I remember the dead man strung up like a gruesome offering.

As I look up, cold sweeps my spine.

The dead man is Karry, the Halket king.

Gwen wails, the guttural sounds of a woman in grief.

I am not in wolf form, but I still throw my head back and howl in an echo of her sorrow.

Eric, through cruel circumstances, is now the Halket king.