by L. V. Lane
The path opens out at a small pool complete with a waterfall.
On the right of the waterfall is a great shimmering oval that spins and warbles, sparkling blue and golden light.
A portal.
I have never seen a portal before, although I have heard about them. It’s said that you can feel the presence of the Goddess close to a portal. Many pilgrims travel from the far corners of the world to pay homage and to pray at such sites.
“Oh!” I shiver, sensing the power in the spinning, wondrous creation. I’m confused that the haughty miss would even bring me to such a place.
“You can go here,” she says.
“Here?” I ask because this does not seem like the kind of place where a person would go. It looks like a place for praying.
“Yes, here,” she says, tapping her foot like she is waiting for me to do the deed. She rolls her eyes. “Fine, I will leave you. Don’t get lost on the way back. I do not want the blame!”
She stalks off along the path toward Ralston.
I sigh heavily, feeling shaky and all at odds with everything. The pool looks inviting. Maybe I can stay here for a while? It does not sound like Jack will be back for a while, and I can look forward to more awkwardness when I return and must enter the hall where everybody will stare. My stomach rumbles. I am hungry, grubby, and I smell of Jack’s cum. It is crusted to my thighs, and I swear I am sticky everywhere. I should go and clean up, but I am entranced by the portal.
Maybe I can stay here for a little while. What is the worst that could happen?
I go and do my business a distance away before returning and dipping my toes in the water. It is cold, but not too cold. Sitting on the edge of the pool, I prop my back against a big, mossy boulder and splash my feet in the water.
Goddess, it feels nice. It is warmer here than in my father’s village, and the water is so good. A little sunlight dapples the area through the trees. My eyes drift closed.
I wonder how I should find myself mated to a king as I lay resting beside a magical pool and portal so far away from my former home. I feel a little sad and homesick. I feel a little lost.
These are the Goddess’ plans, I tell myself. Who am I to argue with whatever she has in store?
I cannot.
I think I might have fallen asleep.
A great cry rouses me an indeterminate time later.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Jack
I’M GOING TO kill Fen.
This isn’t an idle threat. This time, I really will kill him. Goddess bless our late mother’s soul, the lad has ever been a test.
The entire day has been wasted trekking all over the fucking place. Meeting with the king of Halket to calm him the fuck down after Fen and Eric fought over some lass they are both rutting.
They are both too old for this foolishness. Fen does not even like the lass in question. He was stirring the other lad up. I will bloody the damn whelp when I get my hands on him, and he will not have the energy to rut anyone for a week!
It helps some that old Karry, the king of Halket, is similarly inclined toward knocking sense into his son as a result.
If it were only the Halket clan I had to contend with, it would not be so bad. But Fen has also gotten into a skirmish with warriors from the Lyon clan, although the details of this are sketchy. It doesn’t help that the Lyon clan is twice our size, having taken over territory a year back. Their leader, Rendal, is a bloodthirsty heathen, and I’d sooner go to war than try to apologize to him.
It is likely we will now go to war. It has been brewing for a while. But I would have preferred its timing be by my determination and not the fucking whelp’s.
Fen is still nowhere to be found when I return home with Glen and a dozen of my best warriors. I am tired, grumpy, and ready to kill. My men, ever wary of my moods, offer no comment as we travel.
As the sun dips below the horizon, we arrive at the loch shore and slow our horses to a walk.
At least, I have a mate waiting for me when I return. It has been a lonely year. Not long after Lesa’s death, the women of my clan tried to entice me into their beds. The foolish ones anyway. Anyone with sense steered clear of me, especially in the early days.
Men come in many shapes and sizes and a variety of dispositions. Alphas are no different, although we have a tighter band around our nature and disposition. When Lesa died, a part of me died with her. There was no urge to rut, no matter how the lasses of the clan might entice me to show them favor.
The Goddess is ever mysterious. My mindset changed when a blonde lass with a sooty smudge on her nose crashed into my life. In so short a time, she has already filled my world. As soon as I get back to my home, I will order every nosy bastard out, take Hazel to my furs, and bury myself in her cunt. Maybe I will give her the knot she seems intent upon begging me for.
No, I will not allow myself to be tempted down that route. My knot thickens my cock to twice its width, and she will need to take several more inches to see me fully seated. She only thinks she can handle me.
“He smiles!” Glen says sarcastically.
I cut him a glare as if to dispute this. “I was thinking about my new mate,” I say. “She’s convinced she is ready for my knot. It has yet to be two full days, but her enthusiasm is a delight.”
He chuckles, but it dies abruptly. As does my own joyful thoughts of rutting my sweet Beta mate.
A crowd has gathered outside my home, and in the center, someone has erected a punishment post. Such is reserved only for the fiercest transgressions where a clan member might be subject to a whipping. Torches have been lit. Instantly, I see they have stirred themselves into a frenzy.
I nudge my horse into a trot. Dismounting at the edge of the gathering, I toss the reins to a nearby lad. “What the fuck is going on here?” I demand.
The noise dies as they notice my arrival and the crowd parts for me.
I swear I lose a piece of my earthly soul as I see what they are about. There, tied to the post, is my sweet little Beta covered in mud and whatever else they have tossed at her. She is naked, and I can see welt marks upon her skin. My roar is inhuman, and the crowd shrinks back.
“Your slave desecrated the ancient site,” Nola snarls, turning to face me. She holds a willow branch—some or all the welting is down to her. As the daughter of an Alpha who was my late father’s second, she has often had notions above herself. Her father died defending the clan not long before my father passed, and she and her mother have held respected positions ever since. I know she harbored hopes that I might mate her. Whatever this madness is about, she will be lucky to get through it with her life.
My face must show all my fury, for she tries to make a run. I grab her by the hair and shake her about. “She is your fucking Queen. She may piss on your doorstep for all I care. Were you in some ways confused about her status to me? I will whip any man or woman who does not offer her due respect.” I shake her again, my rage so great there is a danger I might snap her neck. I do not have time to deal with her impudence. Seeing Glen, stony-faced beside me, I toss Nola to him. “See that she is suitably punished. After, any unmated warriors may use her for their pleasure.”
I waste no time seeing my orders are followed. I expect them to be and trust Glen to show no mercy. Stalking toward the post where my mate hangs trembling, I take my knife and cut her free. She sobs piteously as I gather her into my arms.
I purr. I know it does no fucking good, but I purr anyway.
“Prepare a bath,” I bark at the nearest servant as I carry Hazel inside.
I am shaking as hard as the tiny woman in my arms, so great is my rage. I do not understand the details of what has happened, but I recognize mischief when I see it.
Hazel tries to speak as I sit at the edge of the bed, but it is only incoherent babble.
“Hush, lass,” I say, rocking her. I think she is worried about smearing her dirt over me.
The servants bustle about preparing her bath. I feel so much guilt a
t what has happened. It is a wonder the Goddess has not struck me down. Not yet three days have I known her. Not yet three days in my care, and I have allowed this travesty to happen.
When the bath is ready, I carry her over and gently place her in.
She shivers as I wash her, although the water is hot. I want to ask her what happened, but I don’t think she can get the words out, and I trust no one else. Once I have her cleaned up, I use fresh water to rinse her off. Wrapping her in a pelt, I take her to the bed.
“Bring some warmed wine,” I call to the nearest scurrying servant who is clearing up the bath. I am still dressed, I want to undress, but I don’t want to let Hazel go.
I sigh. This has been a testing day. Thanks to Fen, I now have a war with the Lyon clan. I will skin the whelp when he finally shows up. Only now, Fen and his propensity for causing trouble are the least of my concerns.
A servant returns with the wine, and I hold it to Hazel’s lips.
“I can’t drink,” she stammers. “I will spill it.”
“What is a little spill?” I say. “Sip it. It will warm you inside.”
It takes many moments before she manages to sip it down, but finally, her shivers slow to a faint tremble. She whines when I rise. “I am only undressing, lass,” I say. “We need to be skin to skin.”
Quietness falls over my home as I return to the furs, pulling her small body flush to mine.
I purr. “I don’t know why I fucking purr,” I mutter when she fidgets against me. “I have long known that Betas find it annoying.”
“Why do you think that?” she asks quietly. “I love it when you purr.”
“You do?” My hand strays to her bottom, but it is a comforting touch that has nothing to do with rutting.
“I love your purr because it’s part of you. I cannot think why anyone would not cherish such a sound and the sentiments in which you make it.”
My hands tighten around her. I want to draw her smaller body into mine so that I might protect her better. She disarms me with her sweetness. I have done nothing but rut her. I have, through negligence, allowed her to suffer gravely at the hands of my people. Yet, she still seeks comfort in my arms and my purr.
“Do you miss your first mate?” she asks. We have never spoken about our pasts before, although we have both been bound.
Is she thinking about her late husband? Thinking that he did a better job of caring for her?
It is not my place to feel jealous of one who has been taken into the Goddess’ embrace. Nevertheless, I do.
“Aye, sometimes, I do,” I say honestly. “And sometimes, I get a sharp feeling in my chest. I feel guilty that I am still alive. I feel guilty that I have found happiness with you and that you have given me a reason to smile again. I take comfort in knowing Lesa is with the Goddess. In her life, she experienced a great deal of pain. That is over for her now. She was not a bitter woman, not even toward the end when she suffered greatly. She begged me to find another mate and to be happy. She was also not afraid to voice her opinions, and I can well imagine her cursing me for my negligence in allowing harm to come to you.”
I feel her press a little closer, spilling her tears over my chest.
“Do you miss your late husband?” I ask.
“I did not know him so well,” she says. “But he was a brave man who died protecting our lands in the wars against the Blighten. He was cheerful despite his years as a soldier. Mostly, I am sad that I did not get to know him well. And I was sad I never caught with a babe. Now, I understand the Goddess had other plans. But she loves well those who are noble of deed.”
My arm tightens. I am ever an Alpha and possessive of this sweet lass I have claimed as a mate. The talk of a babe and her past bonded husband has a predictable effect. I curb my urges. Now is not the fucking time.
She grows restless, pressing little kisses against my chest that gain in urgency. I sense what the lass wants, but I will not fucking rut her after what has just happened.
“Please,” she begs, weakening my resolve. “I can’t stop thinking about it. Please, make it go away.”
My growl is low and steeped with both tenderness and aggression. In so short a time, she has become more precious to me than every man and woman I reign over. My cock thickens and lengthens, wanting nothing more than to serve the sweet little Beta demanding its attention.
I am still wrestling with what I think is best for her when her small hand closes over my shaft. Weak against her needs, I growl lowly, letting her explore me with her gentle fingers. The furs slip aside as she shifts. I steel myself for control, sensing she needs to be the one who drives this moment.
It is dark inside my bedding chamber, but enough moonlight spills through the shuttered window for me to see her pretty, tear-ravaged face. Her eyes implore me.
I nod. “I am yours, Hazel.”
Her lashes lower, making a pretty fan against her cheeks as she studies her prize. Taking it in both hands, she explores me with a gentleness that has me gritting my teeth. “You can hold it firmer, lass,” I say. “You will not break me.”
She sends a furtive glance my way, and biting her lower lip in concentration, grasps me firmly and begins to stroke. My hands make fists as I temper myself not to interfere. My cock is soon leaking over her small fingers, enthusiastic for her attention.
Then she lowers her head and licks the crown, and I swear I see double.
My groan sees her stop to glance at me. “Someone is being a little tease,” I say, not unkindly.
Smiling, she goes back to her work, industrious as she laps up all the sticky pre-cum, working her hands up and down erratically and encouraging me to spill more.
I curse softly as she takes the bulbous head into her mouth and begins to suckle me in time with her stroking. I want to fist her hair and choke her on my cock, but now and today is not the time. “I’m going to come,” I warn.
The little imp grips tighter and hollows her cheeks as she takes me deeper into her mouth until I butt up against the back of her throat.
“Fuck!” I mutter gruffly as I hear her choke a little in her enthusiasm. I want to drag her off and force her deeper all at the same time. This is fucking torment of the highest order. “There is going to be a lot,” I say. My warning is not having the desired effect because she grips her prize and doubles down, using her tongue to lash the length. The base of my spine tingles, my balls draw painfully tight . . .
Then bliss as I shoot down her willing throat.
I was not lying about there being a lot. Her lips pop off in shock as I’m still coming, and I nearly drown the poor lass. “Goddess!” she says, still pumping her hands. Enrapt by the thick ropy cum that is gushing over her fingers and my belly.
I want to ask her if she swallowed any or if she spat it out. I smirk because I think she spat it out, and I look forward to teaching her how to swallow. I have barely stopped coming, but the thought of training her to suck my cock to my liking has me hardening once again.
“Oh!” she says, her fingers tentatively exploring the thick ridge of my half-formed knot. “This is not going to fit,” she murmurs to herself. I think she has forgotten there is an Alpha attached to the pole she is handling.
I am tired and a little sleepy after coming, but I am also hungry for a taste of my sweet little Beta. The trauma that unfolded outside our home has been put from her mind for now. But I want to make sure she is thoroughly occupied and in no doubt of her status to me as my mate.
I roll, taking her under me. There is a little gasp, followed by a moan as I part her legs and bury my face in between. This is no tender exploration, nor am I inclined toward stoking her arousal with touches and kisses. I just want to fucking feast on what is mine. Her little pussy has already creamed nicely for me. I think my sweet Hazel has enjoyed sucking her master’s cock. Small hands grasp my hair, and her legs spread wide enough for them to tremble with the strain.
“Goddess! Yes, oh, please!” Her begging turns incoherent as I get my
finger inside her little pussy and find the rough patch that makes a Beta sing.
Gods, I want to rut this hot, gushing little pussy. She is becoming perfect for me and responding to my dominant ways. The squelching noise of her wetness drives me wild. I suck her clit roughly as I work my fingertips over the front wall of her pussy.
“No! Oh! Please, stop.” Her determination that I should stop only drives me on. She does not dislike what I do. Quite the contrary, my sweet, dirty little Beta is about to squirt. She wriggles harder, I pin her harder, and within moments, she gushes all around my fingers and tongue. “Ohgodohgodohgod!’
The bedding furs are soaked. I smirk my approval as I lap at her sensitive clit until she gets all twitchy. I allow her to tug me away this time. I will give her no such allowances tomorrow.
No sooner do I gather Hazel into my arms than she bursts into tears.
“I was so frightened,” she says. It is all I can do not to take up my sword and slay every member of my clan.
It is not all their fault, I rationalize.
I purr for her, and eventually, an exhausted sleep pulls her down.
Tomorrow, I will get to the bottom of what occurred.
Then I will take up my sword.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Hazel
WHEN I AWAKE, it is not my pussy that is the first source of discomfort.
My head is pounding, and my eyes are puffy. Yesterday feels like a bad dream.
I rise slowly in the bed. I’m alone. This brings fear rushing until I hear the low rumble of Jack’s voice beyond the screen that separates his bedding chamber.
My hand shakes as I push my ratty hair from my face.
Yesterday, I thought I was going to die. As I stood naked, humiliated, and broken, tied against the post, I faced my end.
It is strange how such times bring the past to the fore. Not while I was at the post, my mind was blank to ought but terror then. But after, as I lay in the safety of Jack’s arms, the troubled dreams brought many people from my past.
