Taken - Lane L.V. (best english novels for beginners .TXT) 📗

“Her scent is upon you,” Ashe says, speculation in his eyes as the Orcs are driven toward the hold.

“Good,” I say. “As a mate’s scent should be.” Ashe throws his head back and laughs. I know what he is thinking. I’m a long time away from the pack where my cousin rules. Many female shifters are anticipating my return and hoping I might choose them.

Life is full of disappointments . . . It is not me that is disappointed today.

I call out orders, and the crew get to work. The last few gathering booty, clamber to our ship. The grappling hooks are freed, and we push away from the burning ship. Our sails are lowered, and we set out for the nearest shore and a safe port in the kingdoms of Hydornia before the weather turns.

Done with my duties, I turn back to the lass and her two mates who have waited on the periphery. They are shocked and probably suffering a sense of betrayal that I did not disclose my plans.

Caden is scowling, Brook is belligerent and hurt. Priya is watching me with worried eyes. I don’t shift to human as I head toward them. They need to get acquainted with all aspects of me.

“You should have told us,” Caden says. There is hurt in his words; he is used to being Hawthorn’s second and having his first Alpha’s complete trust and counsel.

“Maybe,” I say. There were times when I thought it better not to give them false hope. “But I did not know you well at the start. I know you better now.”

He nods. He understands.

The lass surprises me, breaking from Caden’s reluctant hold, her small hand presses to my chest. My nostrils flare as her sweet scent is pulled into my lungs. A tentative smile lights her face, and she beckons me closer.

Chest sawing with the sudden strain of resisting her pull, I steel myself and crouch. She comes in, her tiny body insinuating between the V of my thighs. Arms lift, and small hands pet the sides of my snout carefully. There is a vicious gash where a poisoned blade sliced the flesh during the fray.

“Does it hurt?” she asks, earnest eyes holding mine.

“Aye, some,” I say. In truth, it stings like a bastard. “The blade was poisoned. It will likely take weeks to fully heal, even for a shifter.”

Face solemn, she leans in, and soft lips kiss the fur next to it with the deepest reverence. “There,” she says. “It will heal quicker now.” Her small hands roam down my throat, fingers clenching and flexing over my pelt. They settle over my chest, where my heart thuds heavy. “Does this mean you’re a good man?”

My lips curl in my best equivalent of a smirk. “I am not a good man. I am the worst kind. Why else would the King give me such a task? I’m too proud and too enamored with my own prowess. I break laws and rules at every turn in life. The King has threatened to kill me more times than I can count. And that’s why I was the right man for this task.”

Around us, the air is filled with the cries of the crew busy at duties. I barely notice them, so focused am I on the tiny, grubby waif. Dark, ringleted hair has escaped the braiding long since, flashing dark eyes and an impish little chin that does not give fair warning for the rebelliousness lurking within. There are smudges of soot on her face and dotted throughout her hair.

“You’re a rebel,” she says like this is a fact and with no small amount of glee. Now the filthy little sprite has labeled me as a kindred spirit. She is neither scared nor cowed by me. I fight the growing urge to throw her to the dirty deck floor and rut her before my crew. I want no man or shifter confused about her status to me.

I am gone, hook, line, and fucking sinker. My mother, blessed with opinions and determination enough to constantly share them, often taunted me with the threat that I would meet my match one day. I never suspected I would need to share her. I sigh heavily. Alas, the wench needs a great deal of rutting as I have borne painful witness to.

“This dress is fucking scandalous,” I growl. “I will get you more in every color of the rainbow so that I might have the pleasure of tearing them from your body.” I lift her into my arms, lest any other bastards put their eyes upon her, and stride for the cabins.

She taps my snout in playful outrage. Following behind, Brook chuckles then grunts. I’m sure, despite his battered state, that Caden has just thumped him.

The ship belongs to the King, and there are cabins sized for an Alpha, but not for a half-shift monster. I shift to human form before taking the narrow staircase that leads down to the main galley.

Priya lets out a little gasp, fingers clawing at me. “Please don’t do that again,” she scolds. “I thought you had dropped me!”

“I would never drop you, lass,” I say.

At the bottom of the stairs, the galley opens out with doors leading off on both sides of a corridor. Stopping before a door, I reluctantly lower Priya to the floor. My pelt offered some small amount of protection from her soft body, but I’m aware of every inch in human form. “Take this room and rest. We will talk more in the morning.”

“You need to handle her,” Caden says. His hand is upon her shoulder as she goes willingly to Brook, pressing her face into his chest.

“Not tonight, lad,” I say. “You have my word, no Alpha on this boat will touch her, no matter her scent. Tomorrow, I will see to her long-overdue discipline, but tonight, you must rest. I’ll be next door.”

Priya’s head pops up at the mention of discipline before she finds avid interest once again in