Chapter 24

Chapter Twenty-Four

Gray

T he ship on which we sail does not belong to me, my pack, or even the shifters. It belongs to a Hydornian king whose empire stretches across the lands on the other side of the Lumen Sea.

Alliances have begun forming between the humans, the shifters, and the fairy kingdoms beyond the portal. Others are in the mix, including the centaur herds and the scattered barbarian clans who occupy the lands east of Hydornia.

For many years, we each fought our own wars against the Blighten, the green skin bastards who invade our lands and snatch our peoples to facilitate their endless wars. The human kingdoms began forming alliances first, sharing intelligence and even resources to push back battlelines from the east and west.

Shifters and some of the more congenial centaur herds initially combined forces with human settlers and shifters against a nefarious bear shifter horde. Having worked together to deal with one problem, it was only natural for that to extend to the greater threat represented by the Blighten.

There are advantages to the alliance beyond our common enemy or enemies—the loan of a ship being one.

As befits a proud galleon, the captain's quarters are spacious and well-appointed. And as befits my position as a pack leader's son, they are given over to me… Which is for the best given I will need space and privacy for what I have in mind.

Opposite the door is a wide, curving casement of tiny, framed windows offering a distorted view of dark, billowing clouds. Beneath the window is a sturdy table made of oak with a single lantern set upon it, shining its light on a platter of cold meat and fruit, a pewter jug, and goblets. A grand chair, its dark leather worn and aged, along with several smaller chairs, are set around it.

To the right, faded red swag curtains are tied back to reveal a large bedding nook.

Another lantern hangs from the ceiling above the center of the room, swaying under the passage of the ship and casting a gleam over the polished wood of the walls and the floor. A series of cabinets rest against the room's walls, some with closed doors and others open, with all manner of curiosities on display… an old skull, a large peacock feather, a sand timer, small chests, and brightly colored pouches. To the right of the bedding nook is a large leather chest with a lock upon the front—all captains must have their secrets.

"Let me go!"

"Quieten down, wench." With her wrist shackled in my hand, I direct Ada deeper into the room. We are closely followed by three deckhands who strain under the weight of Callum's unconscious body. He's a big bastard, and we probably didn't think through how we might get him in here when we knocked him out.

Maybe I should've put him in the hold, where he belongs. Still, he has brought my wolf close to the surface, and there is no going back. Callum needs to be part of this. He needs to see what happens next. Perhaps it is cruel of me, but my wolf will have it no other way.

Before I am done, both Callum and Ada will understand that I am the alpha here.

We are a week's journey from our destination, even if the winds remain favorable. There is no need for me to rush. The lass is flagging even as she flails at me. I doubt she slept much last night after what happened between us and the fight.

"Where do ye want ‘im, Master Gray?" the deckhand asks.

I nod to the left, where a handy metal ring is embedded in the wall. I can only imagine that Callum is not the first prisoner to be held here. Another hook is fixed in the ceiling—we shall get to that later. "Bind him there. Make sure that he is secure… A gag might be in order."

The deckhands grin as they chain Callum to the wall. He groans, starting to rouse, and their grins disappear as they hasten to complete the task.

Their reactions stir an unexpected feeling of pride. I like that his impressive build and fearless bearing inspire healthy respect. I have seen the lad fight and know what he is capable of—their caution is not misplaced. I anticipate he will be fearsome when he embraces his inner beast.

"Do ye want us t' stay?" one deckhand asks.

I shake my head. "No, I'll be fine."

They take their leave.

I am alone with my prey—my soon-to-be mate—safe on a ship, and free from interference.

At last.

My mind briefly stretches toward considering how Drake is getting on with my former betrothed and younger brother. Potent emotions of relief rise within me again—Gods, it is good to see them. I don't even care that the damn mutt was rutting Lizbeth. How can I, when I only have eyes for Ada?

It is strange how things work out.

"W-what are you going to do with us?" Ada demands of me.

My eyes lower to the woman I want… no, it is more than that, who I crave. She is wilting as exhaustion and stress win the battle against her will. "Nothing… yet." I direct her toward the bed.

"What? Oh! Unhand me, beast!"

Her small, weak protest accompanies me divesting her of her dress. My claws facilitate the matter and the air is rent by the sounds of shredding cloth. My wolf approves.

"You will not wear these human clothes again," I growl. Better to speak plainly to the lass. "Further, you will be naked until I deem you worthy of clothing of any kind. How long that might take is to be determined."

"Savage," she hisses, slapping me with all her tiny might.

My wolf pricks his ears right up at this and yips with excitement, enjoying her show of spirit.

My grin is all teeth. "I will take that as a compliment, lass."

"Compliment?" she blusters, beating her fist against my chest. "Only a monster would consider it such!"

I cradle her small fist in my hand lest she hurt herself beating on me and direct her into the bedding nook. "Settle, wench. I am not rutting you tonight, even though your cunt is juicing with need. Rest assured; my wolf can scent your arousal. Let there be no pretense between us."

My words prove inflammatory. She is not ready to accept reason, yet. No matter. I am determined. Seeing the handy cuffs chained to the head of the bed, I make use of them, securing her wrists as she screeches and rails at me.

Her vocal expression of dissatisfaction rouses her shifter whelp, who comes to with a muffled roar, rattling the chains with enough vigor that I hear the wood creak in protest.

I rise slowly and turn to face him, glad I had the foresight to have him gagged.

"Callum!"

The lass's cry rouses him further. I wait to see if he can break free, wincing when the sturdy beam he is chained to creaks even more ominously.

We will need to establish our hierarchy at some point, but I would rather it was somewhere with more space… and fewer things of worth that might be damaged in the fray.

Further, I do not want to best him in this form. When we fight and establish our places, it will be as wolves. Drake is right, in this much. I will need to teach him how to shift and whether he wants it or not.

But not tonight.

Tonight, I want nothing more than to feel his woman in my arms—no matter how challenging that might prove.

Tomorrow, I will claim her and force him to watch.

His eyes promise my death as he strains against the binding. "Hummm! Huf… umgarhhh, yuuur ahushhhh!"

I believe the whelp is making threats upon my life. Good. Let him hate me. He has had her fucking first, and I shall have her next.

"Callum!"

Ada was right when she called me a savage. It is what I am—my nature. I feel no shame for my ways, nor the actions I'm about to take. There is no place for weakness in a shifter pack. Our ways are often considered cruel to outsiders. Only the strong survive.

I don't want to share a mate, but if I must, then I don't want to share her with a weak male.

And so, I will push him until he breaks, and then I will push him some more. I have dealt with the occasional latent wolf before. Some can be coaxed, but some need to fight their way out.

Callum is a fighter.

He carries royal blood.

Maybe he will even best me before we are done.

My wolf prowls and lashes his tail from side to side before curling his lips back to growl.

"Oh, Callum." The sound of Ada's sobbing brings a softening sensation inside my chest. I turn back to her, ignoring Callum's increased grunting, and stride the short distance to the bed.

I flash between shifted forms, leaving my clothing in a heap on the floor.

I purr, crawl into the bed beside her, and draw her small, chilled body against mine.

"Hush, wench." I take her in hand, pinning her belly down in the bed, getting my nose up against the side of her throat as I throw a leg over her, cursing when my hardened cock makes contact with her plump ass.

This will be a fucking test.

My teeth find the juncture of her shoulder and throat. I bite, purr deeper, and settle a little more weight over her.

She struggles on. Callum's sounds of grunting and thrashing on the other side of the room reach a fever pitch.

Then instincts win out, and her body softens under mine.

It takes a lot longer before the blacksmith whelp quietens down, too.