Sought by the Alphas Complete Boxed Set: A Paranormal Romance Serial Page 5

  Finally she pried an eye open and peered around, which only seemed to amplify the ache in her head.

  The room she was in was stone. Light curtains fluttered in the breeze by an open, arched window. A fire burned bright in a small hearth opposite her bed, which was coated in white linens.

  To her left was a wooden door, accented with iron hinges.

  Inside the room, standing against the wall by the door, were two men. One looked about forty years old. He wore a lavish-looking red tunic, leather pants and tall black boots. The other looked like a guard. He wore silver mail and a helmet which concealed the top half of his face. A thick coating of stubble covered his square jaw. Not the most disciplined guard, from the looks of things.

  The man on the left, thought Gwynne, must be the head of the place. Whatever this place was. Maybe she’d been taken by Kapral and whoever his leader was. Or maybe she was somewhere else entirely.

  “Where am I?” she managed in a weak voice.

  “In the castle Dundurn,” said the man in the tunic.

  “So…you must be Rauth,” she said. “Lord Rauth, I mean.”

  The man approached, a smile forming on his lips.

  “How do you feel?” he asked.

  “Like shit,” she said.

  The guard let out a laugh then. Cheeky bastard.

  “You’ll be all right,” said the other man. “You’ve suffered a blow to the head, but it didn’t do any vital damage.”

  “Where’s Lachlan?” asked Gwynne, not terribly interested in the state of her skull.

  “He’ll be by in a little. The physicians are tending a few superficial wounds.”

  “Ah. Okay.” Gwynne put her head back on the cushion, disappointed not to have his familiar face there to soothe her. She was here for him, after all. This lord Rauth seemed nice enough, but he wasn’t exactly thrilling her.

  “So,” continued the man. “You are to heal a little and then we can proceed to prepare you for the ritual.”

  “The ritual. Right.” So the guy had sex on his mind while she lay there with a headache. Typical man.

  “A lady in waiting will assist you in anything you should need. You are to let her know of your requests.”

  “My requests? Like what album I want to listen to and how many scented candles?”

  “I don’t know what an album is,” said the man in the tunic. But it is to you to make your demands.”

  “All right,” said Gwynne, emitting a sigh. “For now I demand that you let me sleep.”

  “Very well, my lady,” said the man, who then turned and left.

  The guard stayed behind, standing casually by the door. His posture didn’t exactly indicate a man who stood alert, in wait of imminent attack.

  “Do you always hang around in women’s bedrooms?” asked Gwynne, annoyed.

  “Only the ones who are attractive enough to tempt me,” he said.

  Well, he’s a cocky little jerk, isn’t he? She thought.

  “Pretty sure his lordship wouldn’t like you hitting on his claimed mate,” said Gwynne. “I wouldn’t want to have to report you.”

  “Please don’t,” said the guard, approaching the bed. His smile was momentarily concealed by a look of terror. “He’d feed me to his dogs. By that I mean his friends.”

  “Well,” said Gwynne, studying him, “you’d deserve it. Where I come from it’s not considered very gentlemanly to hit on someone else’s girlfriend.”

  “Girlfriend? Is that what you call yourself?” The man looked puzzled now, as if contemplating the structure of the word.

  “Prospective lover. Potential wife. Fuckbuddy,” said Gwynne. At this point she had no desire to appear ladylike.

  “Does the prospective lover enjoy being touched?” asked the man, who now stood next to the bed.

  “Only when she doesn’t have a headache that could stop a freight train,” said Gwynne.

  “At some point I’ll learn to understand your references.” With the words, the man lifted the sheet which covered the patient, looking underneath at her gown.

  “I can see through your clothing,” he said, inhaling deeply as he stood over her. The woman’s scent was enticing. “They chose the garment well for you.”

  Gwynne opened her eyes and pulled the sheet from his hand, covering herself.

  “What the hell are you doing?” she asked. “Get away from me.”

  “Studying my prospective lover. Potential wife. Fuck-buddy,” he laughed.

  Gwynne glared at him, noting his face. His square jaw. Those light eyes, which reminded her of Lachlan’s.

  “Who are you?” she asked. “Aren’t you a guard?”

  “No,” he said, removing his helmet. “Nor have I ever been. I run this place.”

  * * *

  Encounters 12

  “You’re Rauth?” With that, Gwynne sat up, too stunned to care anymore about her head. The man looked a lot like Lachlan; not exactly; he was a little less tanned and his hair might have been slightly darker, but surely the two were related, and yet no one had told her. Maybe all wolf shifters had that look about them. The look of a man every woman wanted to devour.

  “I am Rauth, yes. And you are the lady Gwendolyn.”

  “Oh God,” she said. Should she apologize? Hell, no. What was he doing, deliberately fooling her like that?

  “No, not God. Just a leader to a thousand or so shifters.”

  Gwynne glared again. Arrogant bastard. Lachlan was also their leader, or did he forget that? So this was the man she was to mate with? The possible father to her children? Great.

  Still, at least he looked good. And, admittedly, smelled damn good as well, just like his co-alpha. Two men who exuded sexuality, who made her nipples go hard and who had somehow convinced her that mating with them would be a better alternative than returning on a plane to the U.S.

  “Well, I suppose I should tell you it’s nice to meet you. But you probably get why the circumstances aren’t ideal.”

  “Nothing is ideal.” Rauth’s face went serious for the first time. “We’re at war. And much as I hate the way you arrived here, I am glad that we can finally proceed with matters.”

  Matters. Sex was a “matter.”

  “Yes, this business deal of ours…”

  “Lachlan has told me that you agreed to all of it,” said Rauth.

  “All of it? He didn’t exactly give me a list. I don’t know what ‘all of it’ means.”

  “No matter. You will abide by your agreement, I’m sure. That’s what counts. In the meantime you need to heal. Your strength will be necessary in the days ahead.”

  “Speaking of days ahead,” said Gwynne, “when exactly are we?”

  “I suppose you don’t know. This is the year 1348.”

  “Of course it is.” Gwynne emitted a low laugh and let out a brief yawn.

  “I realize, Gwendolyn, that you are a woman of the modern world. That you are unaccustomed to our ways. But you are now in my world. My kingdom. And things will go according to what I dictate. Is that understood?”

  Gwynne opened her mouth to protest. Would he expect her to wash his clothes and bathe him?

  “Things will go as you…and Lachlan…dictate,” she said, and with that she drifted to sleep.

  * * *

  When she awoke this time, it was Lachlan who greeted her.

  “They told me you’d come to,” he said, leaning forward in the chair which sat next to Gwynne’s bed.

  “I did. I wasn’t sure if I was dreaming. So that really happened, huh?” she asked, recalling Rauth’s strange assertiveness.

  “Yes, I’m afraid it did. So what do you think of our ‘lord?’” It was a question asked as though Lachlan already knew the answer.

  Gwynne’s eyes narrowed. “What do you think? He’s a piece of work.”

  “He is,” said the shifter, laughing. “He’s not all bad, though.”

  “Only mostly. He looks an awful lot like you. Are you two related?”

  �
��Something like that.” Lachlan wasn’t about to go into detail, as usual. He continued, “Still, he is good for our clan. And between the two of us we keep our world together.”

  “Okay, explain something to me: how exactly do the two of you work together? It seems to me that Rauth thinks he’s in charge of everything.”

  “He is the alpha, the leader. But some time ago he and I competed in a tournament. That’s how the position is won. I won that tournament.”

  “He must’ve hated that.”

  “He did. But he’s reasonable…sometimes. He accepted my, shall we say, superiority in the moment. But I have had a role to play, which meant that I could not lead the pack.”

  “What role?”

  “Finding you.”

  With that, Gwynne felt herself flush with warmth. He really had devoted his life to it, and the affection in his face and voice demonstrated that it wasn’t merely for the sake of the clan.

  “And now that you’ve found me? Will things change?”

  “Perhaps. But in the meantime, in the interest of our common goal, I will leave it.”

  “Your common goal being me?”

  “In part,” smiled Lachlan. “You are instrumental in our challenge. But ultimately we wish to strengthen our pack, to secure our place. To stop hatred of our kind in its tracks.”

  “How will we do that?”

  “By creating a love of our kind.”

  “Lachlan, you’re being cryptic again,” said Gwynne.

  “All will be revealed.” Lachlan looked pensive rather than playful, as though he were strategizing in his mind.

  “In the meantime I suppose I need to ask you about this ritual that’s on the horizon,” said Gwynne. She hated referring to it as though it was merely a dental appointment rather than the fulfilment of a fantasy that seemed to have been within her all her life.

  “When you’re well, we’ll speak of it,” said Lachlan. “In the meanwhile all you need to know is that your comfort is paramount.”

  “Are you okay to wait? I mean, you’ve waited so long. I can’t believe that you spent so many years looking for me.”

  “I can wait a little longer, Gwynne. It’s been this long, as you say. I’ll survive.”

  “Lachlan, how old are you?”

  “I’m not terribly old. Not in years, anyhow. Because of my ability to travel through time I’ve passed through many generations, but I’m not ancient, if that’s what you’re asking.

  “That’s not to say that the time did not pass while I awaited you. I did my duty; I found you and brought you here. And I will continue to do my duty,” with that he leaned towards her again, “By bestowing every earthly pleasure on you. Some with my tongue. Others with my cock deep inside you. I will make you come a thousand times before I get tired, and then a thousand times more.”

  Gwynne felt a familiar coolness between her legs as her naked flesh went damp. She ached physically, even throbbed for him. Why couldn’t she have him right now?

  “I can’t wait…” she began.

  Just then, the door opened and Rauth walked in.

  * * *

  Encounters 13

  “And how is our cwen feeling this morning?” he asked. His mail was gone and now he wore only a thin tunic over loose pants. Gwynne could see the outline of his form under his clothes. Like Lachlan, he was large and muscular, his chest thick and firm.

  “Cwen?” she said.

  “It’s our word for ‘queen,’” said Lachlan.

  “Ah. I’m all right. Better. Thank you,” she said, facing Rauth, who seemed to be eating her with his eyes again. “I could use a shower, though.”

  “I beg to differ. The lack of cleanliness brings out your delicious aroma,” said Rauth.

  “Well, that doesn’t make me self-conscious at all,” she said.

  “We will see that your lady in waiting bathes you,” said Lachlan.

  “I’m fine to bathe myself. I’ve done it nearly all my life,” said Gwynne.

  “It’s simply a matter of custom…my lady,” said Lachlan.

  Gwynne smiled at him. “Fair enough,” she said. “Sorry. I’m not used to this.”

  “Of course you aren’t.” With that, Lachlan touched her cheek and turned to leave. Gwynne thought she saw Rauth glare at him.

  “No doubt Lachlan has told you how things will work during the ritual,” he said after his clan mate had left the room.

  “Not exactly. Only that you’ll both be involved.”

  “We will. And it will be performed on a daily basis.”

  “He didn’t mention that.” The thought of it aroused and excited her. Even during her period? She couldn’t ask this man, somehow.

  “We need to ensure the survival of our clan. That means that you must be impregnated sooner rather than later.”

  “Rauth,” Gwynne said, sitting up. The sheet fell away, once again revealing her diaphanous nightgown. Somehow, she didn’t care so much anymore.

  “Yes.”

  “Why me? Why am I here? There are other women about, surely.”

  “Many. Many women wander the halls of this castle. I have had many lovers.” The declaration seemed filled with pride and boastfulness.

  Well, good for you, Gwynne thought.

  “So why am I so special?”

  “Lachlan has not told you,” he said, pensive. “And I will not. You will discover the truth soon enough.”

  “I’m not sure it’s something I want to ‘discover.’”

  “Well, it is not for me, for any of us, to tell you. You are important. Crucial, even. That’s all you need to know.” Rauth’s eyes veered to her chest now and he reached a finger out to tease her through her gown. “It is fortunate that I find you desirable.”

  “Well, thank you very much.” Gwynne wanted to slap his hand away. The arrogant pig. Too bad she found him so goddamned attractive, too.

  Rauth’s fingertip found her nipple, which rose to meet his touch. She’d always had the most sensitive nipples; the gentlest touch made them rock hard.

  “Beautiful,” he said quietly as though mesmerized. “Perfect.” With that he pinched her pink nub between his index finger and thumb, pulling it gently. The wetness between her legs only increased, as did the ache between the walls of her tight channel.

  “You enjoy this,” he declared. It wasn’t a question.

  “Yes,” she said, her voice strained.

  With his other hand he treated her right nipple, stroking and pinching it through her clothing.

  “You desire me. I smell it on you.”

  Gwynne looked straight ahead, her eyes narrowing.

  “Yes,” she said. “I do.” In spite of myself, she thought.

  “I will take you. I will be inside you and fill you. I will pleasure you in every way. As will Lachlan.”

  “I…”

  “You needn’t say anything,” he said, his voice soft as he leaned forwards. Cupping her breast in the large palm of his hand, he took her left nipple between his teeth and she felt the heat of his breath condense into moisture before his tongue darted out to stroke her through the linen. Oh, God. Rauth’s hand slipped under the sheets and lifted the bottom of Gwynne’s gown. The eager fingers slid quickly up her thigh, settling into the soft wetness between her legs.

  “I could smell this when I entered the room,” he whispered, flicking his index finger lightly over her lips. “But it wasn’t for me, was it? You desire Lachlan as well.”

  Gwynne didn’t respond. Rauth shoved a finger inside her roughly and she gasped.

  “But this,” he said, easing the finger in and out, “this tight channel of yours is now wet, swollen, for me. For my cock. You wish that I could be inside you right now.”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you see how hard I am already?” He backed away now, licking the finger that he’d pulled away from her. Gwynne looked over to see that his cock was perfectly outlined by his thin pants. He was so thick. So hard.

  “Yes.”


  “Good. Remember this when I come to you next. Because the next time I see you I’ll be inside you. I will spread my seed inside you while I fill you with the greatest pleasures you’ve ever known, my cwen.”

  * * *

  Encounters 14

  The lady in waiting entered the room shyly, quietly, as though in some sort of submissive and reverent stance. She was dressed simply, but she herself was quite beautiful; thin, lithe, graceful. Her long blond hair flowed in fine strands to her waist.

  “I’m here to bathe you, my lady,” she said to Gwynne, who was rising at last from her bed.

  “Great, thanks. But first—I need a washroom.”

  “My lady?”

  “A bathroom?”

  The young woman looked at her as though she’d never heard an English word before.

  “I need to…piss,” Gwynne said, trying to recall what the oldest term for the bodily function might be.

  “Ah.” The woman walked over to a corner, where a ceramic jug sat. She picked it up and brought it to Gwynne, placing it on the floor before her.

  “You’re joking, right?”

  The servant backed away, gesturing towards the jug. No, apparently she wasn’t joking.

  Gwynne lifted the nightgown and squatted over the jug, hoping that her aim was sufficient to hit the thing’s insides. When she was through, she felt an odd sense of accomplishment.

  “Now,” she said to the woman who had been standing, staring at the floor, “for this bath…”

  “Come with me, my lady.”

  As they walked down a hallway Gwynne remembered that she was still dressed only in the thin nightgown. What she wouldn’t have given for a bathrobe. Still, no one around seemed to take notice; men milled about in their linen clothing, some wearing shirts, others not. It seemed that shifters didn’t care too much about clothing.

  “What’s your name?” she asked her guide as they walked.

  “Ygrena, my lady.”

  “I’m Gwynne.. And you don’t need to call me ‘my lady.’ It makes me feel old and weird.”

  “I apologize, my lady. I’d be flayed if I called you anything else.”