Claimed for their Pleasure by L.V. Lane
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Jessa
WE CLING TOGETHER within the darkened shack as the sounds of battling grow louder and more frenzied.
“I do not think this is so safe?” Hazel says. We are alone in here, but she holds a sturdy plank of wood with the same determination with which I grasp Gage’s knife.
The door rattles suddenly. We both cling tighter, respective weapons shaking in our hands.
A cracking crash follows as an ax slams into the door. A second blow disintegrates the wood, and the shattered door swings open.
“Found them!” he calls. Lowering the ax, he stalks inside.
I do not lower my blade. Were the man sent by Gage, he would not need to search.
Tightening my fingers, I prepare myself. I will not be taken willingly.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he says, eying the knife I hold out.
“He is Lyon,” I hiss, and lunge for him with my knife.
He laughs as he batters my strike away, fat fingers closing painfully around my wrist. They bite into the bone, making me cry out and drop the weapon.
Hazel swings her plank, hitting the side of his head with a dull thud.
“Uff!” he grunts, releasing me when Hazel beats him over the head again.
He tries to snatch the wood from her, but she is savage and beats him once again. The knife has fallen too far away for me to reach. Instead, I leap for his back just as he rips the wood from Hazel’s hand. I sink my teeth into his ear. He roars and spins around. I taste his foul blood, but I cling and bite harder.
Another great crash sounds behind me as the shattered door is slammed open.
Jack!
The world spins as the Lyon warrior flings me from his back. Jack swings his arm, striking the Lyon warrior’s head with his ax. It makes a sickening popping sound as it enters the skull and another as Jack yanks it back out. Blood arcs in a great spray. The warrior drops to his knees before crashing to the side, dead.
Dazed, I try to pick myself up only to feel strong, familiar arms surrounding me.
“Brandon,” I sob. Pressing wild kisses all over his face as I cling to him. He is naked and tastes of blood, but I do not care.
He purrs for me. Finally, I am safe.
On the other side of the tiny shack, I hear growling as Jack and Fen discover all the terrible suffering done to Hazel.
“It was Nola,” I say.
“I will fucking kill her,” Fen growls.
“She is dead,” I say. “Gage ordered her death for taking us.”
“Fuck!” Brandon growls. He does not like me mentioning Gage. Suddenly, I am not feeling safe anymore. Now I am terrified that Gage has been killed.
“Is he… is he okay? Do you know?” I shouldn’t ask, but I must know. Inside my chest, it feels like a tiny fist is crushing my heart.
“He was alive, last I saw,” Brandon says. “More’s the pity.”
Trembling with relief, I sink into Brandon. Beyond the broken door, the sounds are no longer those of battle. Another Lyon warrior stands in the broken doorway. He was the one who killed Nola when we first arrived. He is Gage’s man and is watching me with interest.
“Can we go home now?” I ask.
“Aye,” Brandon says. “We will go home.”
His hands tighten. Something has changed between us. “I don’t want you to leave me,” I say. “When we get home. I don’t want to be in a different home. I want to be with you—always.”
His arms make a strong cage around me. My ribs creak a little, so tightly does he hold me. It is the best kind of hold. I never want him to let go.
“We will work something out,” he says. “I don’t want to be parted from you either, Jessa.”
Tears spill down my cheeks, but they are tears of release as the tension leaves my body. I am not a child anymore. I want to be with him, wholly, as a woman is with a man. To lay with him. To feel him inside me, completing me in the way I sense it will.
Hazel is similarly complaining that she wishes to go home, which puts a smile on my face.
On the dirty floor, I spot the knife, Gage’s knife. I snag it just in time as Brandon rises, lifting me into his arms. “What is that?” he asks.
“Mine,” I say. “I am taking it with me.”
“You are not taking a filthy Lyon knife with you. It doesn’t even have a sheath. You will cut yourself!”
“It’s mine.” My defiance wells up. “I am keeping it.”
He sighs. “I am too fucking tired for this, Jessa. Drop it to the floor.”
“No!”
Suddenly, he chuckles. “You are a fucking brat. Fine, keep your war-prize, but it will be going in the saddlebag when we reach the horse and a proper sheath when we are home.”
“Agreed,” I say.
Brandon carries me out in his arms, Gage’s knife clasped tightly within my fist.
