Claimed for their Pleasure by L.V. Lane
CHAPTER THIRTY
Jessa
I AM TIRED and yet, full of nervous energy.
We ride through the night and into the morning, stopping briefly at the village where Gage ordered his men to gather supplies. He said he was giving Brandon the run around while they delivered them. This is the farthest I have traveled from home, and I recognize nothing.
Brandon has been running all this time as a wolf. I worry for him, although I know wolves have great stamina.
I also worry about what will happen when we arrive at the lookout lodge.
We have walked the horse a little for this last part, only rising to a canter when we hear Brandon’s call.
“We are nearly there,” Gage says. “Drink some more water, lass.” He hands me the waterskin.
I don’t want any water. “No!” I say, pushing the waterskin back into his hands.
He growls as he hooks the waterskin onto the saddle. It is not the aroused growl like the one he made while watching Brandon rut me at the festival. No, this is dark and rattles with menace. It still makes my pussy weep. Everything about Gage has the same effect upon me. His scent fills my nose and lungs. It is like a blanket covering the surface of my skin, saturating me, penetrating deep to the core of my body until I tingle everywhere. With only his cloak to protect me, I ought to feel cold, but I am hot, burning with a sickly fever that fills my mind with images of debauchery.
My slick constantly weeps, saturating his beautiful fur-trimmed cloak.
His big, powerful body cages me as we ride. I have napped on occasion when exhaustion pulled me under. Neither Brandon nor Gage have taken any rest.
And now, they will fight.
I don’t want them to fight.
Yet I cannot deny that it aroused me when they struggled as Gage held Brandon after I revealed.
I am an Omega.How strange is this day? How strange are these new feelings that tear through my body?
As we crest the next rise, a small clearing comes into view. There, nestled between trees, is a two-story log cabin. It is pretty in its rustic setting, isolated, and I find that I like that.
As we draw the horse up into the stable attached to the right, Gage is swift to dismount and lift me from the horse.
He does not put me down. I’m not sure my legs would work if I tried to stand after all the riding, so it is for the best that he carries me.
A howl shatters the quiet forest, setting the hairs on the back of my neck rising.
“He is close,” I whisper.
“Aye,” Gage agrees. “And you are going into heat if your petulance is anything to go by.”
I don’t know what he means by that. Is he cross because I refused to drink the water?
He heads straight in, taking the stairs upward into an open loft… leaving the front door wide open.
The loft is spacious. A fire has been stocked but remains unlit on the right. On the left, shutters are drawn closed. Beneath the shutters is a great table bearing bundles, sacks, and jugs. But directly ahead, straw has been strewn deeply to make a low platform of sorts, covered by thick blankets.
A nest? The beginnings of a nest, I correct.
Gage strides for the table with me still in his arms. Hot and restless, I try to wriggle down.
My eyes remain on the nest. I helped Hazel create one once. Although Hazel is a Beta, it still helps her bonding with her mates, Jack and Fen. Hazel loves her mates well and was eager to try. She made it on the bed, forming a border with pelts and drawing a soft blanket over the top to create an intimate space.
This is nothing like that civilized nest. It feels different.
Animalistic.
There is a thin rope among the supplies, which Gage selects. I frown for only a moment before Gage carries me to the giant nest, lowers my feet to the floor, and sets about binding my wrists.
“What? No!”
I struggle in earnest now. The heat coursing through my body does not like this development.
“I don’t trust you not to interfere,” he says. “It would devastate the both of us, should you be injured.”
Another howl, close, kicks off a thud in the base of my skull. I feel woozy and a little disconnected from reality as my hands are drawn over my head, pulling me onto my feet. My head rolls back against the rough wooden wall. Above me is a great iron ring, and the rope is passed through.
I kick out. “Ow!” I only succeed in hurting my toe and drawing Gage’s thunderous glare.
“Brat,” he growls. Spinning me around, he lands a sharp spank to my bottom that hurts twice as much as my toes.
Goddess, his hands are big. I groan as my slick pulses out to join the other stickiness.
His head lowers, and I know he is looking at the mess I have made—the evidence of my arousal. He sucks a sharp breath in through his teeth, head lifting, shoulders straightening, he rises to his full height. My chest heaves. I shake my head, trying to rouse myself from the foolish desire I suffer to spread my legs. Left hand planting against the wall beside my face, he leans into me, his broad, naked chest inches from my lips. I can’t stop myself from pressing forward within the confines of the rope, stretching my tongue out to the limit of my reach to lick his glistening skin.
I groan as the taste hits my tongue.
He shifts slightly away so that I can no longer touch him. Writhing against the wall, I tug on the rope in the futile hope that it might release me so that I can feast upon the god taunting me. His fingers tip my chin up, and even that light touch feels like heaven.
“Drunk on pheromones,” he mutters. “It will not take much to tip you into full heat.”
A thud rattles the floor, followed by a savage growl.
He is here. Brandon has come.
