Claimed for their Pleasure by L.V. Lane
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Brandon
AFTER FINDING THE Halket king dead, we returned with Eric to his home. Danon is silent the whole journey. But when we arrive at the clan, he is taken to their village hall, the doors shut, and questioned.
Outside the hall, a funeral pyre is being built, and the king prepared for his journey to the Goddess. Inside the hall, the plaintive cries of the firstborn Lyon son are music to my ears.
A river of blood trickles over his chin and chest, his eyes are so swollen they cannot open, and his body is bruised and battered. If every rib is not cracked, it won’t be for want of trying.
He laughs. I think the bastard has been beat about the head too many times.
“Why did you kill him?” Eric roars, sending the Lyon man crashing to the rough wooden floor with another savage punch.
Danon groans, rolling slowly to his side. He spits a mouthful of blood to the floor.
“I didn’t kill your father,” Danon says, pausing to spit out more blood. “I have said as much many times. But it seems you are not the man I thought you to be. You are too fucking drunk on revenge to care about justice.”
Fen is silent; so am I.
Eric stands over the prisoner, chest heaving, knuckles raw.
“I do not trust the bastard,” one of Eric’s men says.
“Neither do I,” Eric agrees. “The weak bastard would say anything to save his own life.”
“I am already fucking dead,” Danon growls. “You let one snitch escape. But even if you hadn’t, I am done with the fucking clans. If you don’t kill me, my father will when he learns of my actions.”
“What actions?” Eric demands, grabbing a fistful of Danon’s hair when the warrior remains tight-lipped.
Danon only laughs.
“You have punched his head too many times,” another man says, voicing my own opinion. “He is not making a bit of sense.”
A thump on the hall door interrupts proceedings before it is flung open.
“The Ralston king is here,” the warrior at the door announces. “He has brought Baxter and Ross warriors with him!”
“Bind the bastard,” Eric says, nudging his head to the nearest warrior. “Make sure he is put somewhere secure. He can wait until the morrow.”
Outside, darkness has fallen, and we find the pyre ready. The ground vibrates with the thrum of approaching horses, signifying the arrival of Jack.
As the warrior indicated, Jack does not come alone. My wolf prowls restlessly under my skin. We have the numbers. It is time to act.
As Jack joins us, Eric orders the pyre to be lit.
Around the pyre, the Halket clan grieves as the flames rise. Jack talks to Fen, learning the details that have unfolded.
Blood and bone are turned to ashes, rising to the sky and taking the late king to the Mother of All Things.
My wolf does not understand grieving, although the man in me does. My wolf wants to act—we are aligned in this desire.
“Tomorrow,” Eric says as he returns to join us. “We will take the war to them. There can be no more diplomacy. The only words will be those delivered by the sharpened steel of my sword.”
Jack nods. “Tonight would be better,” he boldly proposes.
My wolf stirs that our king skirts disrespect.
Eric turns to face Jack, a scowl on his face.
“They came for your father,” Jack continues. “What else have they come for?”
My heart rate kicks up. My wolf is going nuts.
“Fuck! We have been away all day,” Fen says. “We should question Danon.”
“He is our prisoner,” Eric says.
“We have left our fucking village vulnerable all day,” Fen repeats, voice heating. “They killed your father. What’s to say they have not attacked our home, too?”
Eric’s nostrils flare. Mine is not the only temper rising as this statement settles. My wolf coils, he can sense the tension in Fen, and it amplifies our own.
Jack’s hand settles on Fen’s shoulder, calming him and indirectly calming us both.
“We will question him again,” Eric says. “The Goddess will understand. My father will understand.” Turning, he calls two of his warriors.
But as horses thunder into the village, our heads turn the other way. Our warriors. As they stop before us, a warrior calls, “Hazel and Jessa have been taken!”
My chest feels like it has been placed within a vice. My claws spring, my wolf fights to explode from my skin. The man in me needs to hear what will happen next, and I battle to retain control.
Jaw tight, Eric nods. “We ride!” he calls.
