This specimen was what all men wanted.
The stunning blonde startled when she found an audience waited, and what had been a victorious smile turned into a glower. “Who are you?”
It was always awkward when someone asked her name, Wren already pointing to her mouth and shaking her head.
Kieran answered for her. “This is Jax.”
Hand to her hip, licking up a dribble of cum at the corner of her mouth, the beauty smiled again. It was not friendly. “It’s always good to meet a new girl. I look forward to some chit chat when you get to the pen. I’ll show you the ropes.”
“She can’t speak, Rosie.” Kieran was enjoying this exchange, his saucy response making no secret of it. “And this one isn’t sleeping in the pen. Caspian put her up in the big room.”
The woman scoffed. “Yeah, well, he put me up in the big room at first too.” Lashes darkened by smeared mascara, fanned down, Rosie taking a good, long look at the tattoo on Wren’s cheek. “We’ll see how long you last.”
Kieran tutted, a playful bend to his voice. “He’s given you more than he ever gave the others. Don’t be sore.”
“I get it. She’s punishment for mouthing off last week. Message heard loud and clear, Captain.” She saluted the male, even winked provocatively before turning back to Wren and shrugging. “I’ve already sucked him off twice. I doubt he’ll even touch the defective merchandise.”
One could only hope.
The blonde edged nearer, pinching Wren’s blue hem. “That’s my dress…”
Kieran spoke the woman’s name softly but with clear warning. “Rosie.”
Blue eyes made extra bright by open invitation darted up to dance over Kieran’s smile. “I haven’t seen you all day. Walk me back, would ya, handsome? I’ll make it worth your trouble.”
A male hand landed with enough force against Wren’s ass to smart. “Head on in, sweet cheeks. Tell Caspian I’ll be back later.”
And like that, Wren was abandoned before the lion’s den.
Blinking at the guards, not sure what to make of the feminine giggles and male laughter at her back, she let go a long, troubled sigh.
In the blink of an eye, clean skin and a borrowed blue dress were no longer special. Stomach in knots, she could no longer pretend. Not after those few awkward minutes with Caspian’s woman.
They already had an Omega, a perfect Omega. Wren had no idea where that left her or why she was here.
The nervous habit of touching the tattoo left her fingers pressed to her cheek, teeth worrying her lower lip.
The taste of cherries was no longer a treat.
Behind that door was a man who’d just had another woman, who had been sated twice. A man she’d sold herself to, who’d taken her from her home only this morning so he wouldn’t have to slog through mud to fuck her.
A man who had Mikael taken to a doctor and saved his life. How did one come to terms with such a dichotomy?
Both guards openly watched her standing there, one kind enough to say, “You don’t have to knock. He’s expecting you. Go in.”
She knocked anyway, buying a few precious seconds before she was faced with whatever confusing reality was beyond that door. After an agitated grumble, the door was yanked back, an irritated, shirtless Alpha leaning against the frame.
He took a long look at her standing there alone, dressed in blue, clean, with fresh shiny gloss on her lips. “Mouse.”
She nodded once at his greeting, signing hello.
“Where’s Kieran?”
Wren looked over her shoulder and back, peals of feminine laughter ringing out from the nearest corridor.
“Hmmmm.”
She wasn’t sure why, but the petulant look in his eye made her smirk. Offering the same purr she would have given a moody Alec, Wren stepped forward, ready to be off of the lofty gangway and perched in a room reeking of a man who did not require her attention.
Small blessings and all that.
He let her pass under his arm, giving her hair a not so subtle sniff.
The inside was not what Wren had expected. Masculine, yes, but tidy. Well, organized chaos more like. Papers stacked up, piles of books, clutter. A large bed dominated one wall, a leather armchair facing it. A nearby table, large enough to seat eight, sported a half-eaten plate of food and a bowl of something unidentifiable.
“That’s for you, pretty mouse.”
By the size of dainty teeth marks in the sandwich, Wren knew whose leftovers these were. They belonged to the same woman who had left her discarded underwear on the floor. But food was food, so she reached forward.
“Not that.” Caspian jerked his chin toward the bowl of wiggly mush. “That.”
Wren would have rather eaten the sandwich, but took a chair and lifted the waiting spoon to taste green slop. It didn’t have a flavor worth mentioning… though it had a lot not worth mentioning. Slimy, it squished on her tongue, going down like swallowing a live slug.