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

stress. No, one Omega is more than enough trouble. And aye, the lass was once a lady. But she is an Omega now.” I leave the rest hanging. Priya’s eyes lit up from the moment I called her a lass. Any insinuation of her lowliness and purpose in life to be available for our use and rutting has her needy little cunt dripping and mouth watering for the taste of cock.

I’m only too happy to oblige in her little fantasy.

“Lass,” Aremis says, testing the word and receiving an outraged gasp from his mate. “The lasses do need a firm hand and frequent rutting.” The rogue is baiting his little Omega, eyes dancing with mischief that she is too busy fanning herself to see. “Not that it’s a hardship for an Alpha. Although, I’ve found the discipline side of things is required more often than I anticipated.”

Rosalind’s eyes flash to her mate at the mention of discipline.

“I determined early on that Priya needed daily maintenance discipline, or she got up to no end of mischief.”

“I’ve not considered maintenance discipline,” Aremis muses, eyeing his little mate speculatively before turning back to me. “Do you recommend this approach?”

His poor mate looks fit to wilt. “I do,” I say, trying not to smirk.

“I do hope you will consider staying,” he says, slipping his arm around the waist of his trembling mate and drawing her body to his. “The roads back to your lands will soon turn arduous with the weather. You could spend the winter months here and take a ship in early spring. It would make little difference to the timelines, I believe. You’ll stay here for a short time, I hope, while your mate recuperates from the ordeal.”

“Short term, yes, I would be grateful to accept your offer,” I say. “Longer term? I have matters to deal with before such decisions can be made.”

Aremis inclines his head. “I will have my captain escort you to the docks in time for the ship’s arrival.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Priya

RAGLAN, I SOON come to realize, has a way about him that endears him to others. He did not know many of the people on the ship when we first boarded, saving the shifters from his pack who had accompanied the crew. Yet, by the time the week-long journey that will take us to port draws to a close, he seems to know every man by name. Not only every man, but also their extended family, along with a plethora of seemingly inane details about their lives. He sprinkles these details liberally into engagements. When he praises people, it’s personal, and their chests puff with pride before they set themselves to working twice as hard at any given task.

There is also a young, half-shifter lad who has come with his pack. Raglan is forever teasing him in ways that make the poor lad blush. But he also dedicates an hour every evening to coaching the lad in his combat. I can only watch in wonder at how the special treatment lifts the young man who cannot help but suffer a lower status for his mixed race.

The prow is my favorite place to sit and watch the waves of an early evening and has the added bonus of allowing me to surreptitiously watch Raglan train the lad. I have no interest in the half-shifter. But they train shirtless, and I could gaze like the lust-drunk hussy I am at Raglan all day every day and not get bored.

“I heard shifters cast half-shifters out of the pack,” I say as Raglan joins me at the prow. I don’t mention the bit about them killing them, but this is what I’m thinking.

Raglan studies me with a raised brow. “Where did you hear that bit of nonsense?” he asks. A crew member approaches carrying two bowls of mash. Even after our rescue, I’m doomed to suffer.

“I—” Words elude me; clearly, it is a bit of nonsense, and nothing Raglan has done suggests he or his people are savages who might kill a child, nor even cast them out. “My brother is a half-shifter,” I say, poking at the mash. “My Papa always said he had to keep Nate, or his own people would kill him.”

I feel foolish voicing this now that I’m among shifters and have a chance to form opinions for myself.

“I’m assuming your brother is a bastard, given you’re not a shifter,” Raglan says. “Happen, your father said what he needed so that he might have an excuse to keep the lad.”

Turning back to his mash, he eats with enthusiasm, but my mind is off and spinning at this explanation for our complicated family situation. Yet, it feels right. Why have I never questioned this before?

As I poke at my mash, I allow myself to consider the possibility that Papa didn’t hate Nate after all, and that he might even have loved him just as much as he loved me.

I still miss Papa so terribly, but I think I love him just a little more in this new light. Nate is a man now, mated to Belle, and however it has come about, I’m so happy about that. Soon, he will be a father to Belle’s children. He will make a wonderful father, as all my brothers will, each different, each offering unique gifts.

I miss my family.

I miss Shep.

And Posey.

And last, but far from least, I miss my stern first Alpha, Hawthorn.

“Eat your mash, wench,” Raglan says, putting the spoon down on his finished bowl. “It’s a little wonder you are so small, given you barely eat.”

I feel strangely light and hopeful. And this despite having the joyless mash to eat. I cut a glance to the side and swallow seeing all the powerful glistening muscle of Raglan’s upper body. He is a little hairy, which makes me think about the beast underneath his human facade. I shiver. I love all his forms, the human, the beautiful wolf,