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

by Carina Wilder

  “Well,” she said, still on her back, “What are you two waiting for? Get over here and make love to me.”

  * * *

  Kinship 18

  “Are you sure?” asked Lachlan. “It’s not too soon?”

  Gwynne pushed herself up onto her elbows.

  “Too soon? I’ve been wanting you since I opened my eyes after the babies were born. The only thing stopping me were the doctor’s orders to let my incision heal.”

  “Speaking of which,” said Rauth, the familiar mischief in his glance, “I’d like to inspect you and make sure that you’re healing fully.”

  “Would you now?” asked Gwynne. “Yes. I suppose you should. And a second opinion wouldn’t be a bad idea, either.” With that she glanced at Lachlan’s eyes, her own narrowing.

  The two men moved towards her now, each hesitant in spite of her assurances that she was all right.

  Gwynne sat up fully now and watched them, revelling in their lack of certainty. She was so accustomed to a kind of confidence in each man that it was fun to watch them wander like young fawns taking their first steps.

  And then in a moment of decisiveness, Rauth took hold of the long skirt of her dress and hoisted it upwards, his hand spiralling around to land on the inside of her thigh. He yanked it, spreading her legs wide, and Gwynne allowed her body to obey his every command.

  With both hands now, Rauth shoved her skirt further so that she was exposed to both men, even as Lachlan tore the top of her dress downwards. It reminded Gwynne of the first time she’d been with them and she felt that this was a renewal: they would be one again, the three of them. The ritual had passed, and this time it was all about the pleasures of the flesh.

  Her dress came away from her swollen breasts and Lachlan laid kisses on her white curves even as Rauth positioned himself on his knees between her legs.

  “Your scar is healing well,” he said, running a finger above the mark left behind by the incision. “But I see something else that desperately needs attention.” With that he thrust his mouth forward, lips landing on her dark pink petals, sucking gently, hungrily at the flesh he’d craved for so long.

  “Oh, yes,” said Gwynne, watching her lovers work her body after weeks of deprivation. Lachlan was being careful not to disturb her nipples too much, sensitive as they were, and the effect was to stimulate her beyond words as he teased the area around them before finally landing delicate lips on their tips.

  Gwynne reached for the front of his trousers and slipped a hand down, squeezing his swollen shaft as he kissed his way up towards her neck. She heard him gasp, no doubt as eager to sink into her as she was to have the two men inside her.

  She watched Rauth lick her in smooth strokes as she allowed her hand to caress Lachlan under his clothing, his cock pulsing under her fingers as the blood rushed to its tip. Gwynne licked her lips, hungry for both of them.

  “I want you both,” she moaned. “Now. Please.”

  Rauth stood obediently, reluctant though he was to stop his intensely pleasurable activity, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before letting his pants drop to the floor. Lachlan did the same then removed his tunic.

  Rauth lay back on the bed, pulling his own tunic upwards to display his thick erection which pointed towards the green canopy. He licked his hand, stroking himself as he looked into his mate’s eyes, and invited Gwynne to make herself at home on top of him.

  “Sit on me,” he commanded softly.

  She did so, her back towards his face as she eased herself delicately onto him, Rauth guiding himself slowly into her sensitive puckered hole as his hands grasped the beautiful roundness of her hips. She’d learned over the months to revel in the joys of a cock in each opening, but continued to her delight to forget how beautifully endowed the shifters were until they’d found their way inside her.

  Lachlan put a hand on each of her thighs and pushed himself forwards until his cock head played with her lips, wetting itself with her juices. As she eased up and down, he stroked her bud with the swollen tip and watched her bite her lower lip in response, knowing full well that what she wanted was only seconds away; knowing that she craved him, that her walls ached for him.

  Finally he thrust forward, his cock moving deep into her even as Rauth’s did so, and Gwynne let out a familiar cry; one that they’d missed beyond words.

  “I’ve wanted this so much,” she managed to moan after a moment, as she watched Lachlan’s huge shaft pull away, the veins throbbing against its sides in anticipation of the explosion that would come too soon and yet not soon enough.

  Rauth was in heaven behind her, his hands sliding over her white curves as he beheld himself easing into her again and again. He loved her back almost as much as her front, her waist nipping inwards from full hips, each part of her asking to be grasped firmly by his large, strong hands. Finally his fingers settled again on her hips and he drew himself upwards inside her, his flesh growing more sensitive with each passing moment and each thrust. It would be difficult to hold back, but he wanted her to come first; to feel her body seize in that moment of sustained and perfect pleasure. Only then would he allow himself to give way to his own purest delight.

  Lachlan looked into Gwynne’s eyes as his fingers made their way up her thigh and towards her sensitive clit, flicking over its wetness slowly, methodically, in an effort to drive her to the point of ecstasy but not yet over the edge.

  Gwynne pushed her chest forward, her back arched as each man moved into her in a harder and faster series of thrusts. From behind she felt Rauth’s hands move to cup her round breasts, fingers sliding over her hard nipples then pinching gently, pulling at their length before sliding over their tips in unison. They were hard pebbles under his fingers, unabashedly reacting to his touch and asking for more.

  Lachlan’s eyes remained fixed on her face as he pinched her clit between his fingers, his thumb kneading the round pink nub with its wide tip. Heat flowed through her; her entire body had erupted in a fire whose source was focused at that delicate spot between her legs. He stroked her, faster now, his thumb still flicking over her clit in rapid, fluid movements as his cousin tended to her nipples, emulating Lachlan’s touch. She was so beautiful, Lachlan thought, her belly still showing the signs of carrying their twins. She was such a woman.

  A moment later he felt her squeeze him and she let out another cry, this time louder, more sustained, and Lachlan allowed himself to carry on, to massage her slowly, drawing out her delight as her beautiful pussy told him in no uncertain terms how much it was enjoying the ordeal by embracing his cock in a series of fervent clenches, all but begging him to explode inside her.

  He watched as her eyes shot open and locked on his then veered downwards to the two cocks inside her.

  Lachlan’s eyes followed suit, staring at his rock-hard thickness as it pulled out then thrust deep into her again, shiny with her juices. As she moved up then down onto Rauth’s shaft, Lachlan pushed hard into her, eliciting moans that reminded him how much she loved to take the men in, particularly after she’d come, her body tightening around each shaft. He felt her walls grip him, milking his cock and daring him to shoot his heat into her core.

  And so he did at last, letting himself cry out even as Rauth gave way under her, both men allowing themselves that moment of pure vulnerability during which they were no longer alphas, but mere worshipers of her body, slaves to her perfection.

  They collapsed, the three together, and without a word fell asleep for a few hours, both men’s arms wrapped around Gwynne’s naked form in a well-deserved and peaceful rest.

  * * *

  Kinship 19

  Epilogue

  The next month would be the happiest of Gwynne’s life. Her children were growing quickly, at a rate that she couldn’t have imagined if she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes. And it seemed as though the alphas were happy too, at least on the surface, laying aside conflict and war in favour of spending time with her and their energetic youngsters.r />
  It was only when late July hit that disaster struck.

  Ygrena, who had been looking after the children one afternoon, was discovered unconscious in the nursery. And the twins were nowhere to be found.

  The following morning, a doll was spotted a mile or so from Dundurn. It had belonged to Lilliana and was her favourite.

  It was perched high in a tree, as though it had fallen—or been dropped—from above.

  * * *

  Book Five: Dragon Queen

  Dundurn Castle, 1349: After the Abduction

  “I know it was him. There’s no point in even considering alternatives.”

  Tears eased their way down Gwynne’s pale cheeks in hot, seemingly unending streams. These weren’t the result of sadness, though; her one and only sentiment was pure, unadulterated rage.

  Every ounce of spare strength was needed now to hold back her dragon, to keep from lashing out at the man who had attempted to ruin her life for the last time. The thought that he might succeed was intolerable. Finally her father had found a way to exact his revenge on her for managing to exist, to survive despite his best attempts to do away with her. He had stolen her young, her blood. Her babies.

  “The worst part is that Rauth was right all along,” she continued as her mother listened intently. “I should have taken his advice and let him send the twins away. He wanted to protect them and I was stubborn, selfish. If I’d respected his opinion, none of it would have happened. I’m a fool, thinking I knew better than an alpha dire wolf.”

  “You’re no fool,” said Freya. “You’re a queen, and a good and thoughtful one, at that. And in all likelihood you’re right about who the kidnapper is.” She sat calmly while her daughter paced the length of the room. Freya could see the struggle in Gwynne as her eyes lit up, fiery green; the mark of her dragon wanting to seek blood. “Of course it’s your father’s doing, Gwynne. But knowing this, we must proceed with the utmost caution.”

  “Why?” shot Gwynne, moving throughout the chamber in long, rapid strides. “Because if we don’t, that monster will hurt his own grandchildren?” She understood now why Rauth so often strode back and forth when he was agitated. It was the dire wolf within him threatening to come out, calmed only by the strong man who struggled to rein it in. “Don’t answer that, mother. You don’t need to. Of course he would hurt the twins, the bastard. He’s never had any regard for anyone’s life; not even that of his own child. Why would he care about mine?”

  “He will in all likelihood try to use them against the alphas and you as pawns, and it would be foolish on his part to hurt them while they’re useful to him,” said Freya. “So he won’t, at least not while they continue to hold the potential to help him.” She stopped herself from mentioning her true fear: that he intended to raise them himself, to mould them into creatures that he could bend to his will. Worst of all, that he would do away with them if he discovered that they were not as powerful as he’d hoped.

  The twins were so young, so impressionable. But they were clever and independent, too. And they had the benefit of parents who had taught them well, at least.

  “So, what do you propose?” asked Gwynne. “We should just let him keep them for a while while we sit back and do nothing?”

  “Of course not, sweetheart.” Freya’s voice was soft and soothing as always as she attempted to be the voice of reason. But inside she churned with an old fire, a rage against this man who’d managed to devastate so many lives. It was time for his power to come to an end. “We need to move in as soon as we can and to get them back. But let the alphas finish their task first; they’ve been on the hunt for days now and perhaps they’ve discovered his location. Let them find out what they can before you do anything that might jeopardize your young. Right now your emotions are ruling you, and that’s exactly what Lord Drake is counting on.”

  “Well, it’s not bloody surprising, is it? When someone rips a mother’s children from her, she becomes an animal at the very best of times…” Gwynne stopped herself with the recollection that she was preaching to the choir. Her mother had lost her, after all, for many years. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Of course you know how it feels.”

  “Yes, I do. So never think that I don’t know how you’re suffering, Gwynne.”

  “I’ll wait a little longer for the men,” Gwynne replied, still in planning mode, her mind always reaching for a solution. “Rauth and Lachlan will be back soon, and can tell us what the best move is. But in all likelihood Drake’s got the babies in his fortress, and we all know what that means. The wolves will not be able to get anywhere near him.”

  Gwynne still referred to the twins as babies, despite the fact that after only a few months of life they had the basic appearance now of a couple of seven-year-olds, and were still growing rapidly. They were able to converse fluently in English, and were showing early signs of incredibly high levels of intelligence.

  By the time she saw them again, Gwynne knew, they might look like teenagers, or even adults. She hated the thought of it; of missing out on their rapidly unfolding childhoods.

  “If indeed he’s at Carrfyr Castle, your skills will be needed,” said Freya. “And you will have to find a way to calm yourself in the meantime. Remember that I lived for many years without my own child. You’ll survive this.”

  “You lived many years knowing your child was safe. That’s the difference,” growled Gwynne in spite of herself. She turned to her mother. “Mother, I’m sorry,” she said. “Again. I know what kind of sacrifice you made when I was born. I’ll try and live up to your bravery and your level head. You’re right—I’m ruled by my emotions at the moment.”

  Freya stood and took her daughter’s hand. “I understand, Gwynne. There’s no need to apologize. But know this: we will get them back.”

  “I hope so. Because if we don’t, I’m not sure how to go on.”

  * * *

  The Barrow

  The entire world was dark.

  The air itself felt thick and heavy, as though particles of liquid hung around the twins in tiny specks, evidence that this place—whatever it was—hadn’t been aired out in many years.

  Lilliana could feel a cold stone floor beneath her feet. The only reassuring sign was her brother Rohan’s small hand on her arm, silently saying, “It’s all right. Wherever we are, you’re with me. I am with you. Nothing else matters.”

  But she sensed other words working their way through her mind, as though he were tacitly communicating a more complex message through his fingertips. “Don’t speak,” the internal voice said. “Don’t make a noise.” She knew to follow his lead. Rohan always knew what to do in difficult situations—not that they’d encountered many of those over the course of their short lives.

  Neither of them had ever been prone to crying, even in their earliest days as tiny infants. They’d grown so quickly into precocious children, and life was simply too interesting to waste on tearful fits or mood swings. If either of them wanted something, they could always find a way to communicate it to their mother or to Ygrena, who had always acted as a sort of nanny to them.

  It was easiest, though, to communicate with Nana. Dear Nana, with the scarred face and the funny veil that she usually wore, who had the kindest, wisest way about her of anyone. She was an instructor, a guide and a quiet protector. And she always seemed to know what the children needed, even before they knew it themselves.

  But all of those familiar people were far off now, or so the two young shifters felt in their bones. Something was terribly wrong; they weren’t meant to be here, in this odd, dark place. But the real problem was that neither knew where “here” was.

  They could smell the creature who had taken them as he huffed and paced across the floor some distance away. But they could not see him yet.

  And perhaps that was for the best.

  * * *

  Dragon Queen 2

  The Dire Wolves’ Camp

  The camp had settled in the woods a few miles from the blacken
ed peak on which the castle Carrfyr sat. Two hundred dire wolf shifters prowled the area during the night, scanning for flyers and signs of the children, but no evidence presented itself; the place seemed deserted. Lord Drake had left, and the children were most likely with him in hiding.

  “My Lord, I don’t think anyone’s been here for some time,” said Hallam, the young guard who was on duty at the head of one of the search parties.

  “No,” agreed Rauth, who sat in a folding chair which had been set up inside his own large tent. “Drake’s no idiot. He’s taken them somewhere else. But where, damn it all?”

  He scratched his stubbled chin, though what he wanted most was to punch a fist through a stone wall. This should never have happened. It wouldn’t have happened if Gwynne and Lachlan had listened.

  It was enough of an insult that Lord Drake had broken into his castle, his home, and stolen what amounted to his property. Worse, even: his blood. Rauth adored his children and found his heart wrenched in two in a way that he’d never thought possible.

  This thing that others referred to as love was proving a cruel punishment, and reminded him why he’d so often rejected the emotion.

  He hated himself for finally having allowed himself the luxury of deep emotion; this weakness of the spirit, this bloody affection and need, and yet it was the greatest feeling he’d ever encountered. To think that it could end in further sadness was too much. This madman, this thief of children had to be stopped.