Claimed for their Pleasure by L.V. Lane

 

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Brandon

“WHAT THE FUCK is he doing here?” I say, nudging my head at Gage, the former second-born son who is now the king of the Lyon clan. The big bastard is on the other side of the village square talking to Jack. Between us is the industry as Ralston prepares for the coming feast. It will start this afternoon, allowing the children and older clansfolks to enjoy the fun. As the sun sets fully and darkness falls, the children will be sent home under the watch of older siblings and those not inclined toward the carnal side of Goddess worshipping.

“We are building alliances,” Fen says, scratching his short beard and frowning like this should be obvious.

I want to say something snarky, but it is not my fucking place. Winter is approaching, and everyone is talking about raiding. I am thankful that we are not at war with the Lyon clan anymore, but that doesn’t mean we need to invite them to our festivals.

A man hastens past, straining under the weight of lanterns. Another follows, carrying the poles.

“We don’t have to be friends to make alliances,” Fen says, tone serious.

I turn toward him. He has changed since he acquired a sweet mate, and more so since Hazel has gotten with child. He is also right. We do not need to be friends. We also don’t need to invite former enemies to our festival likethey are our best fucking friends.

“Cart coming through!”

We both shift to the side as old Mike drives a laden cart full of wood for the bonfire toward the shore of the loch.

“I know it is difficult for you,” Fen continues. “With Gage because of Jessa.”

It is like twisting the blade she brought back in my gut. She keeps the bastard thing tucked in the lower dresser drawer. A reminder, as if I need one, that it was Gage who saved her that night and put her somewhere safe. I am even grateful that he did and that he is not the monster I accused him of being. But none of this makes her interest in him any easier to bear.

Now we are making alliances with his clan.

He is no longer the enemy.

It would even be acceptable for us to bond in the eyes of the clan, even if it would be a shock at first. Yet the sharp pain in my chest wants nothing to do with it.

Other men share lasses. Fen and Jack share a mate, and I have never seen them happier. I tell myself if I loved Jessa enough, I could put my prejudices and pride aside and talk to her about it.

A horde of children skip past, whooping with excitement. The girls all have flower garlands in their hair and around their necks.

Brats. That is another quagmire that is too tender even to put to voice.

“Why would she care about a Beta shifter if she had an Alpha mate?” I regret the words the moment they spill out. They are churlish and self-centered. As a Beta wolf used to following, these feelings are foreign to me.

Fen’s face softens. “It does not work like that, Brandon. If a lass loves two men, she loves them equally, or she would not choose to be with two. And if the first cannot accept the second, then there is no second.”

“I know that,” I say. “I know all of it. And I want to make her happy. I think I would manage were it with anyone but Gage.”

That is a lie, and I know it. Six months ago, she was just a shy lass who blushed prettily whenever I was near. Now she is the center of my world, and I don’t know how to manage this complexity of feelings.

“Have you talked to her about it?” he asks.

I shake my head.

“Then you don’t know anything yet. Maybe it is only a rutting interest Jessa has in him. Maybe she would be happy if he shared the furs once in a while. Some couples do that, and it is not the same as love and committing to being together in a menage.”

I growl at the thought of sharing Jessa in the furs. I know it was only a figure of speech, but it reminds me that furs are for Alphas. I’m a Beta, and when I’m not in wolf form, I prefer the more civilized setting of a nook or bed.

Fen chuckles as he notes my sour expression. “Don’t knock what you have yet to try. I love watching Jack rut Hazel. He is rougher with her than I am and has a stern way that drives her fucking wild. Sometimes when I watch him with her, I imagine it is me and what I look like when rutting her. And sometimes, I just get lost in the pleasure on her face. Then there are yet more times when we take her together. We have shared lasses before, you and I, you are no stranger to such pleasures. Besides, none of this even matters yet. You have not spoken to her about it. Maybe Jessa will laugh when you ask her and say that is not what she wants.”

“Maybe,” I say, but that is more about the Beta in me agreeing with the Alpha I have followed all my life. As I remember the way Jessa’s aroused scent exploded when she was standing between Gage and me, a growl escapes my lips.

“Maybe not,” Fen says, chuckling again.

“I will talk to her after the festival,” I say. My heart knows that this matter needs to be broached and that no amount of denial will make it go away.

Over the tops of the cottages, smoke rises. They have lit the bonfire.

“Come on, best go and prepare yourself for the feast.” He winks. “It is both of our mates’ first time at the festival as bound women. I do not want to miss any of it.”

We part ways. Fen heads to join Jack, and I head to my new home.

As I push open the rickety wooden gate, I hear Jessa’s singing. The lass is Goddess blessed in her sweet voice. Inside I find her threading flowers in her dark hair. She is wearing a forest-green linen dress that reaches her knees, ornately embroidered with flowers and vines. It is fine material… and see-through in places. The swirling embroidery is the only thing between her being naked. Bows clinch the fabric together at her right shoulder and right hip, with a little of her skin flashing between.

A vow dress, the prettiest vow dress I have seen on the prettiest lass in all the lands.

“I thought you did not want to say the words?” I croak out past the tightness in my throat.

“I don’t,” she says, selecting a flower from the collection on the table and threading it through her hair. She smiles, but there is a slight puffiness around her eyes like she has been crying.

Taking the steps to her, I tip her chin and search her face.

“All the excitement,” she says. Stepping back, she runs a hand down her dress, face shining with joy. “My mother made this dress for me thinking I would wed. She asked me if I would wear it today. I feel like a princess. It seems fitting I should wear it today for my first festival to the Goddess.”

“Aye, it is perfect.” Capturing her face between my hands, I claim her lips in a kiss. She opens sweetly, and our tongues tangle. That fast, blood surges through my body straight to my dick as I anticipate rutting her under the stars. This vow dress will be a crumpled mess underneath us, and all the pretty flowers scattered as I fist her hair and fill her. Wrenching my mouth away, I press my forehead to hers. “You are perfect,” I whisper.

Her eyes glisten with fresh tears, and I don’t have a clue what it means.

“It is nothing,” she says, dashing the dampness from her cheeks. “Tomorrow, we will talk. But today and tonight, I want to worship the Goddess with you.”