Trained For Their Pleasure (Omega Prey Book 5) Read online

  Leaning down, he brushes my long hair over my shoulder before pressing a kiss to the exposed skin. “You are not yet scenting of being fertile,” he says. “When was the last time you bled?”

  “A few days ago,” I say.

  He nods, and lifting me into his arms, carries me the small distance to his bed. It is soft underneath me, and the Alpha who looms over me is large and dominating.

  He is also a king.

  I am not ready for any of this. But I do not have a choice.

  Rising, he strips his clothes before joining me among the furs. He purrs, and I swear he has already trained me to respond to that sound. Instantly, I am restless, and needy, although I’m still achy inside.

  He takes his time. This is not a fierce coupling like I experienced at the riverside. Kisses are long and lingering. They sweep me along into a sensual abyss. I fall into him lovingly and joyously. Every touch is measured to rouse my sensitive flesh. My nipples grow taunt under the soft, rhythmic tugging of his lips. My pussy grows slick as his skilled fingers tease my clit.

  He explores all of me, drawing me with drugging ease toward climax over and over again.

  By the time he rolls above me, I am eager for the welcoming stretch.

  There is only a little discomfort this time, and tears trickle over my cheeks, for it is so sinfully sweet.

  My knees lift to make a cradle for his hips as he begins to rut me. Even this is gentle, the easing in and out no more than a tease that soon drives me to seek more. My lips find the firm flesh of his biceps, shoulders, and chest. I nip at his strong throat and scrape nails over his broad back.

  He will not be rushed nor urged. The more I plead, the more determined he becomes to make me wait.

  My aggression rises in proportion to his steady calm.

  “My sweet Beta kitten has claws,” he growls softly beside my ear, and it makes everything clench inside.

  Taking my wrists within his hands, he pins them to the furs beside my head, and lifting, begins to rut me with greater vigor. My body is yet newly awakened to an Alpha, but it sings under his skilled tutelage.

  “Please,” I say. “Please, I want your knot.”

  He growls at this request, fucking into me harder, yet still not giving me the knot. I can feel the enticing roughness pressing against my opening with every thrust. I meet his eyes boldly. It makes all the sensations rippling through me twice as intense.

  “You are not ready for my knot, lass,” he growls through gritted teeth. “I will knot you when I’m ready and not a moment before. Now, be a good girl and clench over your master’s cock that I might fill this needy pussy all up.”

  I do, and at the same time, he puts his arm under me, canting my ass.

  “Goddess!”

  His grin is full of wickedness as he finds that perfect angle that makes my pussy quiver. He pounds into me, crushing me against the soft pelt bedding, and I fracture into the heavenly waves. Face contorting with pleasure, he jerks his hips, and I feel the hot flood inside. He growls, easing his hand between us, and I know he is massaging the knot.

  I want to do it. I want to be the one who makes his movements erratic and his cock spew cum.

  He keeps pumping, more and more, and my tummy begins to ache. I try to wriggle, but he pins me more securely and continues to jerk his hips. Goddess help me, I don’t think he will ever stop.

  There is too much cum. It leaks out around his hot rod, trickling between my ass cheeks and soaking the bed. He growls, jetting more into me, and my poor tummy cramps with the pressure. “Please, it’s too much!”

  “I think someone is asking for their first taste of the strap,” he growls ominously.

  I can feel the thick swelling of his knot pressing at the entrance to my pussy. He stares down at me in the darkened room, I cannot see much of his features, but I sense his intent.

  He wants to knot me.

  I want him to, but I’m also terrified.

  He rolls, taking me over him while his cock is still buried deep. My small squeak of protests is met by his growl.

  “Be still,” he says, grinding me onto his still hard length. He plants a kiss on the top of my head and begins the soothing purr. “Go to sleep, my sweet little Beta. I will wake you when I need to rut you again.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Fen

  “WHAT DO YOU think they are up to?” Brandon asks.

  We are in the forest, lying in the undergrowth, watching a four-man group of warriors from the Lyon clan stalking something through the trees. A fat buck lays beside us, which will make a fine meal when we return home. Taking it back will also offer a pretense that we were hunting. Not that I had anything to do with it since Brandon is twice the hunter I am. We have a few shifter families in the clan being so close to the mountains. Mostly, they are like regular families, albeit they can take wolf form. It is always Betas. An Alpha wolf would never tolerate such a life.

  “I do not know,” I say. “But it cannot be good. These are Halket lands.”

  “We are also on Halket lands,” Brandon points out with a grin. We have a treaty with them. But I do not believe they are best pleased with me after the incident with Eric and Gwen. Still, what I should and should not do has never held great sway.

  Jack is always complaining that I need to stop these games. But why should I?

  The pox is a cruel disease that sweeps through communities from time to time. My mother, who tended to the sick, caught it herself. Then my father would let no other tend to my mother but him. I think he always knew the pox would take her, and he wanted to go with her.

  Well, that was fucking selfish of him.

  Jack was still a lad no more than fifteen summers old. He fought and killed three Alphas who had once been my father’s supporters before he could claim his rightful place. It was a vicious, joyless time. The Goddess abandoned me that day. I have not felt her presence since.

  Other than that one time when I met that sweet Beta lass at Oxenford. I can’t even remember her face now, but I remember how she made me feel. An Alpha is predisposed to find the smaller, sweeter lasses appealing. It is in our nature to latch, and when we do, it can be hard to break. Hazel was her name. I remember how it matched her pretty eyes.

  I sigh. Many years have passed. She has probably wedded and pushed out a few brats by now.

  “Do you want me to take a closer look?” Brandon asks.

  “No, not yet,” I say, squinting. “Also, your wolf hates the Lyon clan. More likely he will savage the fuckers.”

  Brandon chuckles. He knows this is true. There is a long-standing altercation between him and a Lyon warrior over a certain lass.

  Lasses are nothing but trouble whether you mate them or not. Then supposing you find a sweet one like Jack did, and then you lose them?

  Maybe Eric has not mentioned our minor altercation over the lass he is too stupid to mate?

  No, he will run to his father like the whelp he is. Or one of his minions will tell, or Gwen.

  I smirk. Gwen will not tell. She is a lusty lass and always eager for rutting. If Eric wants to keep her for himself, he needs to claim her. And as per my suggestion, he should include his Betas in the claiming, or she will never be satisfied.

  “I heard they snatched a lass a week ago,” Brandon says, drawing my frown.

  “Snatched from where?” I ask.

  “Halket. She was mated before ought could be done. I heard the Halket king is pissed and has threatened to go to war.

  I turn my attention back to the four Lyon warriors. An illness swept through their clan a decade ago, killing more females than males. Now they find themselves with too many warriors and not enough lasses to slake their lust. I think this is behind much of their warring of late. Not that I fucking care. They could negotiate for mates. They could offer their warriors to other clans where there are more mates. Or join the Imperium or the Seven Hydornian kings in the war against the Blighten. All of these are honorable options as befits an honorable man
. They could even travel to Blighten lands where they keep young Beta women as slaves and free them.

  I’m sure once the poor women have gotten over the ordeal, they will be inclined toward rutting with their saviors.

  Or maybe not? What do I know of being a slave? At the very least, rescuing them would be better than poaching lasses from other clans.

  A sudden scream rents the air, and the Lyon warriors take off running.

  “The fuck is that?” I mutter, scrambling to my feet.

  “You know what that is,” Brandon says, also scrambling to his feet. “What will you do?” he asked.

  “Challenge them,” I say.

  He nods, grins in a way that reminds me he is a wolf . . . and shifts.

  I crash through the thick undergrowth in the direction of the scream. There are no more sounds other than the Warriors giving chase.

  There are four of them; two are Alphas.

  There are two of us, and only I am an Alpha. But Brandon is a wolf shifter, and that evens things out.

  If this is what I think it is, they are attempting another snatch.

  If I interfere in the business of other clans, Jack will be pissed.

  If I do not interfere, he will probably also be pissed.

  If I die, a great many people will probably be relieved. Except maybe the lass who is about to be snatched.

  Another scream turns my blood to ice. It is not the playful scream of a willing lass up to mischief. It is the scream of terror, and it sets my blood pounding with rage.

  I race, leaping over fallen branches, ax in hand. I ready to fight, although I will start a fucking war if I kill a Lyon warrior.

  At my side is the steady drum as Brandon keeps pace.

  Another scream, this one cut off. But I am upon them, and I roar as I charge.

  I burst out into the path where they have taken the lass down onto the ground. I see immediately the dyed leather dress marks her as Halket, for Lyon favors the natural hide like us. She is struggling.

  There are no thoughts in my mind, only rage. I swing my ax at the nearest warrior who has turned at my roar. He dodges the strike, but the tip catches the center of his chest. It cleaves through his tunic and flesh underneath, sending a spray of blood arcing. Brandon crashes into the next man, sending him tumbling before falling in beside me on the path.

  The poor lass is bleeding from her mouth and stumbles to her feet. The Lyon warriors draw their weapons as we block their path to the young lass.

  “Run home, lass,” I say, never taking my eyes off my adversaries. “And do not fucking stop until you are all the way there.”

  Brandon curls his lips back and issues a growl. Behind, I hear the patter of ragged footsteps as the lass flees.

  “This is not your fucking lands, whelp,” the nearest warrior snarls.

  I do not know his name, but I know that if he tries to follow the young woman, I will cut the bastard in two. The man whose chest I glanced with my ax is breathing hard. His right hand is pressed to the wound, while his drawn sword is held in his left hand.

  I smirk because I am ready for blood, and it is their choice if it flows.

  “You know who I am,” I say. I recognize two of the lads, and that they have not yet charged, tells me they also know me. “Best you run on back home before I carve you up.”

  They want to take me; I can see it in their eyes. But they are wary, for I have a reputation for both recklessness and fearlessness. After my parents died, I stopped believing in the Goddess. When I set my mind to it, I fight fast and dirty.

  Then there is Brandon, and they know the Beta wolf will naturally follow my lead.

  The longer they wait, the calmer I become. The lass has had a good head start now, whatever happens.

  I feint an attack, and all four of the worthless bastards turn and flee.

  I laugh. I laugh so fucking hard, I can barely stand up. Thank fuck they do not turn back, for they would kill me with ease. When I can get my mirth under control, I find Brandon shifted to human form and glaring at me.

  “You are an idiot,” he says. Then his face splits in a grin. “But a fierce idiot. I thought Barry was going to piss himself when you faked an attack.”

  “Barry? That is the fucker’s name?” My laughter dies. None of this is a laughing matter. “There will be war,” I say sadly.

  “This is the second time,” Brandon says. “The first time there was a reasonable doubt when the lass claimed it was her decision. This time there is none. Halket will demand recompense or maybe seek war. And at this time of year, right when the Blighten begin their raids.”

  I nod. I am known for my recklessness and foolishness, but I am also not stupid. Warring among ourselves benefits only the Blighten. The Lyon leader is a bloodthirsty heathen who goes by the name of Rendal. My brother fucking hates him.

  He will hate him more now.

  “Happen we should do a bit more scouting to see what else the bastards are up to,” I say.

  Brandon grins and shrugs. “I have nothing else on.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Hazel

  IT IS MORNING, and I’m alone in the giant fur-covered bed. For the second time in as many days, I feel like I’ve been broken. My poor body resists all attempts at movement. I convince myself it is not as bad as yesterday, but I think in truth, it might be worse.

  I’m thirsty, and I need to go. Muttering complaints about amorous Alphas, I rise to a sitting position . . . Then scream for a clanswoman is sitting cross-legged on the bedding chamber floor. Long dark hair falls over her shoulders. Even sitting, I can see she has a long-legged grace.

  I clasp a hand to my chest as my breathing evens out. She is eating an apple and looks bored.

  “His scent smothers you,” she says, nose wrinkling before taking another bite and munching. “I guess you caught him at the right time. Why else would he claim a weak westerner?”

  “Where is Jack?” I ask. I know nothing of this woman, but I decide that I don’t like her or her bold determination to enter the bedding chamber while I slept. Perhaps it is the way of these people to enter each other’s homes?

  No, I do not believe that. I recognize mischief when I see it.

  “Gone to sort out Fen’s mess,” she says, tossing her apple core to the floor. “Fen is missing, by the way. Knowing Fen, he’s probably gone to start a war with another clan because a war with one is not enough.” She rolls her eyes while I try and still the frantic beat of my heart at the mention of ‘war’.

  Another war, I amend, because it sounds like Fen has already started one.

  I look between the woman and the discarded apple core. The room is neat and clean. A shuttered window allows cracks of sunlight in. A colorful woven rug adorns the rough wood floor. Great chests sit at the bottom of the bed and against the wall to my left. They are both ornately carved and quality craftsmanship.

  I stare at the apple pointedly. She does not pick it up.

  “He said you would need to go and that I was to take you.”

  At least she has a reason to be here, although the hostility she is projecting does not bode well. Surely there was someone more pleasant Jack could have picked?

  But I do need to go, so I heave myself out of bed on unsteady legs. I glance around, frowning when I cannot see my dress. Jack said something about me not wearing it again. Still, I need to wear something, and I see no alternative here.

  “Did he leave me ought to wear?” I ask, although I sense this young woman is not about to become my friend.

  “No,” she says, managing to inject greater boredom. “We do not always wear clothing. Are you afraid to be seen naked?” She peruses my small body in a way that says it is sadly lacking.

  I’m not ashamed of my body, but I do not recall seeing anyone naked last eve when we arrived. I’m not green enough to fall for that trick. Snatching a pelt from the bed, I wrap it around myself.

  Smirking, she rises to her feet. She is tall and graceful. I’ve little doubt sh
e would not look as dreadful as I do after rutting. Oh well, I am new here, best not to cause trouble on my first day. I wish that Jack were here, but if what this nameless woman has said is true, I can see that he must do what he can to avoid a war.

  When we exit the bedding chamber, I find a few people busy in the main hall, sitting at the long table. A couple of them are engaged in food preparations, chopping vegetables. Two younger girls are weaving baskets under the direction of an older woman.

  I freeze. Momentarily stunned that there are people here when it was so quiet yesterday eve.

  All eyes turn my way. None of them speak a word. I clutch my fur pelt to me, feeling awkward. It does not cover a great deal of me, and I wish I’d picked up two.

  “I don’t have all day,” my surly escort says, shaking me from my stupor.

  Tugging my fur wrap tighter, I hasten after her.

  I have no shoes, a point that becomes apparent the moment I reach the gritty ground outside. But I need to go desperately, so I follow the evil gazelle who is stomping off toward the trees. Do they not have a privy here? I cannot imagine going all the way to the forest every time I need to go.

  Glancing up, I see that the sun is high in the sky. Maybe this is why my escort is so uncharitable toward me. Many people are busy with tasks, and they all stop and stare at me. One man who is on a ladder busy repairing a roof drops his hammer in his stupor. The man below curses when it lands on his head.

  This is all very strange. I’m all but running to keep up with my willowy escort. I’m sure Jack did not instruct her to walk me naked and shoeless!

  As we near the trees, I notice there is a path. My bare feet do not like this path any better, but I am here now, so I march on. Hopefully, when Jack returns, he will explain the way of things in his clan that I do not blunder around thus, but this is all very odd, and it makes me uneasy.