Chapter 37

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Ada

I have petted horses on occasion in the stables out the back of The Green Man, so I am at least familiar with them. But I have never ridden one.

Now I must ride upon one for days and into a war.

"I thought wolves would run everywhere," I say.

"A pack of wolves running through a city would draw a lot of attention. Also, it is not easy to carry supplies as needed on such a trip," Gray points out, which makes sense with hindsight.

Callum admits to knowing the basics, but not much more. He eyeballs the horse with the same mistrust as me.

"The lass will ride with me," Gray announces.

Callum growls, reminding all of us that he has a beast.

Gray narrows his eyes. "No point acting like a damn whelp. I don't give a fuck if you fall off, but if Ada falls off with you, she could be hurt. The lass is safer with me, and you know as much."

A tense impasse follows where nobody moves or speaks.

"Touch her more than you must, and I will break both your fucking arms," Callum finally snarls—I fear the situation of sharing me with Gray has pushed a once sweet lad over an invisible edge. Radiating menace, he mounts his horse, looking awkward enough to make me glad Gray insisted I ride with him.

The rest of us mount up and ride through the beautiful walled city, which makes me wish circumstances were better so I might have time to explore the quaint cobbled streets with the narrow black-and-white buildings and cheerful citizens who make way for us with a wave and smile.

We ride on, following a pathway through fields until we come upon the forest; here, we take a wide track that meanders up and down hills.

This is a lot of new experiences for me. And coupled with the terrible news, I admit to being overwhelmed. As the journey progresses, I suffer a growing ache in my butt. I try to distract myself with the beauty of finally seeing trees up close and the magic of being beneath their canopy. It only helps so far.

My thigh hurts.

My knees hurt.

My ass goes numb.

Callum doesn't fall off the horse, although this is surely a miracle when, at times, he randomly veers off the path into the undergrowth or suddenly charges ahead, all the while spewing curses and grappling with the reins.

The rest of us wince and stifle laughter as he gains command and returns to us red of face.

It provides some light relief from the somber mood and reminds us all how laughter offers a balm even during terrible times.

As the light fades, we stop at a small village surrounded by farming land. It is the prettiest place I have ever seen, with quaint thatched cottages, rutted streets, and cheery glows coming from the houses.

We pull up outside a tavern named The Oak. It faces a village green, in the middle of which is a mighty tree with thick, sprawling branches that stretch out wide—an oak tree, Gray informs me as he lifts me down. He also takes my prized hat from me in a no-nonsense way and tucks it in one of the saddle bags.

Too tired to argue about his mistreatment of my hat, my eyes immediately go to Callum, who struggles to dismount his wayward horse that refuses to stand still. With a curse and a thud, he lands on his ass in the dirt.

"Poor Callum," I say, about to hasten to soothe him when Gray's poorly covered chuckle snags my attention. "I swear he got the most difficult horse."

Gray's face smooths out in a way that further draws my suspicions.

"Did you give him that horse on purpose?" I am torn between watching Gray for signs of mischief and checking Callum to ensure he is not hurt as he rises and dusts himself off.

Gray shrugs. "I have never ridden these horses before, lass. How could I possibly know their disposition?"

Eyes narrowed, I poke him in the chest.

Capturing my hand in his large one, he brings it to his lips. The move disarms my temper and makes me forget what we were talking about.

"The whelp is going to be a test enough. Figured it would go easier if the ride wore him out a bit."

They are both as bad as each other!

I am distracted from chastising the big shifter when two young lads emerge from the back of the tavern. They take the coins that Gray passes them with a nod before they gather the horses to stable them.

As we enter the tavern, I am hit by a sense of nostalgia for The Green Man. It has only been a matter of days—just over a week since I left Bleakness, yet it feels like forever. In place of sailors, guardsmen, and skilled workers are locals who appear to be more farming folk. We draw their eyes—hardly surprising when our party mostly comprises large, imposing men.

They turn back to their drinks and food, and the portly, red-faced proprietor hastens over, ushering us with many dips of his head to take the large table in the corner. We sit. I find myself wedged into a long bench between Callum and Gray. They sit far too close. Their scent fills my nose, and the feel of them against me thus sends my tired body into a state of confused interest.

A round of ale arrives, and a large tankard is placed in front of me.

My eyes light up. I have only sipped a small cup of ale on occasion, but I liked the warm feeling. I have never been a patron, only a server, so this is a new experience for me. I draw the tankard closer, holding it in both hands to lift it to my lips.

The sensation of being watched has me choking on my first gulp.

Gray scowls and immediately slides the tankard away from me.

"What? Give it back." I share a glance with Lizbeth who now holds her tankard determinedly like she is worried she might be liberated of it too.

"Have you drunk ale before?" Callum asks, seeming to support Gray's decision to take it off me.

"Yes," I say, hoping I sound confident as I drag the tankard right back.

Gray sighs heavily. "We will have a mutiny on our hands if we take it off her," he says to Callum over my head. "Better to let this run the course. Some lessons need to be learned firsthand."

I take another gulp, lest Callum challenge this decision and it be my last one.

"She will be unconscious before she gets halfway down," Callum says tiredly, before drinking deeply from his tankard. "Gods! That's enough to put hairs on a bald man's head." He stares down at the ale with a grimace. "These farming folks must have hardy dispositions."

"It is very strong," Arlo agrees. "We will all be under the table by the end of the first pint."

This conversation goes over my head. I take another sip. Out of the corner of my eyes, I see Gray watching me with a smirk.

He has been quiet all day, and I like to see his brief smile, even if it is at my expense.

"No one is taking your prize off you, lass. You can take your time with it."

The food arrives, and I set the tankard aside to make space. I am feeling a little hot already, and my mind is a pleasant kind of floaty.

There is a choice between potted pork pie and stew. They had venison earlier but have just run out, we are told.

For some reason, Drake finds this funny.

Gray accepts the bowl of stew with a grunt.

I am absolutely starving and do not hesitate to tuck in.

It is not long before I become aware of being watched again, of being squished between my mates, and of how their eyes are more often on me than on their food.

Callum seems to eat his food in rushes between staring at my lips.

His spoon drops with a clatter. He slides his arm around my waist, lifting me?—

"Don't," Gray warns, his arm shooting out to stop him.

Callum growls at him over my head.

"Whelp, if you put her on your lap, this will go downhill fast."

I reach for my tankard and take a big gulp as they stare at each other over my head.

I would like to sit on Callum's lap, but I also want to sit on Gray's. It irritated me when he first insisted on feeding me, and now I miss the strange closeness of it.

They continue to stare for a good while before Callum goes back to his stew and eats it so fast it is a wonder he does not choke.

The rest of the meal passes under quiet conversation as they discuss what is next. Callum and I are new to much of this, and Gray takes the time to explain to us the history between his pack and this rival pack responsible for his father's death. Now that the pack leader is dead, I presume that makes Gray the new leader. But his pack is scattered, and this rogue pack occupies his home, so maybe he is not.

I worry for my future, even as my heart breaks for Gray, who has lost his father and his home.

"I never meant to bring you into this, Ada," Gray says, as the others fall into their own conversation, and he turns his focus to Callum and me. "I told myself I could walk away from you. The Goddess had other plans."

"Do not blame your actions on the Goddess," Callum mutters, reaching for his ale and taking a hefty gulp.

It is his third pint. I am still on my first, which has already made me hot, sleepy, and restless.

"So, your actions are not ruled by your beast, then?" Gray challenges back. "And I was not blaming the Goddess. I blame myself for not listening to her."

Callum grunts.

My fuzzy mind is not sure exactly what that means.

At least they are talking. Talking is good.

I fidget, feeling suddenly bold and sorrowful for Gray. My hand reaches under the table to touch his thigh—he jolts.

Callum growls.

I snatch my hand away.

"The lass was only offering comfort," Gray says brusquely.

"I can't fucking help myself," Callum says. "You kept me chained to a wall for a week. While you... "

Gray clears his throat and reaches for his ale, drinking deeply. "Happen we are all a little tense."

"We cannot change what has happened," Drake says, bringing the conversation back to all. "But we can take steps that will offer hope to those suffering. And we must focus on that. Your father was a well-respected pack leader. It guts me that he fell to treachery." His hand reaches to settle on the back of Arlo's neck. Lizbeth likewise turns her sad eyes to the young man who is her mate.

In the short time since I have known Drake, I have more often known him smiling. His words touch me. I take Callum's hand in mine even as I crawl my way onto Gray's lap.

I feel the tension in Callum… and in Gray, before it leaves him in a rush, and he begins to purr.

The sound is like a balm over us all. The tavern is quieter now, as most patrons have left to return to their homes.

Drake's words move me. I think about how I would feel if something happened to those I care about. I would be devastated; I would not rest until I had done whatever I could to help them and free them if they were suffering. I have been a slave, if briefly. I cannot imagine the poor mates and children who are hostage, nor the torment it brings to their loved ones, needing to fight for a pack they hate at the risk of losing them.

"They will not prevail," Gray says ominously. "But we shall not win this war tonight. Time we took our rest and rise early on the morrow to continue our journey again."

He means it is time for bed. I gulp and make a dive for my ale.

This time it is Callum who slides it aside.

The nodding proprietor shows us up narrow wooden stairs to the guest rooms. Saul and Don take one room. Drake, Lizbeth, and Arlo go to another.

He stops at the end of a long corridor where a single door waits. He pushes it open before presenting the key to Gray.

"We are all in the same room," Callum says, his voice cool and clipped.

"Of course, we are in the same fucking room," Gray says, "unless you wish to sleep elsewhere?"

"I'll leave you to it, then," the proprietor says, beating a hasty retreat.

"Why would I want to sleep somewhere else?" Callum says, swinging me up into his arms and stepping into the room. "I was merely hoping you might take the hint and fuck off."

My eyes go straight to Gray, worrying that he might… I don't know what he might do when Callum has an enormous beast and would clearly be the one who came out on top.

I catch Gray smirking as he follows us in and closes the door. He drops the latch with an resonating click and tosses the key onto a small table beside the door.

It is a pretty, rustic room dominated by a large bed. The shutters are already drawn, and a single lamp provides soft illumination. Callum is already striding toward the bed.

"These clothes the captain gave her are a fucking test," Callum mutters as he drops me in the center of the bed and comes down after me, caging my body beneath his.

We stare at one another, both of us breathing unsteadily. I feel a familiar quickening sensation shooting through my core.

This is Callum, my Callum, who is no longer merely an apprentice blacksmith but a powerful shifter.

The sound of footsteps comes toward us.

Callum growls.

"What?" Gray asks.

I hear a thunk as Gray kicks off his boots, followed by a clank that I think is his belt, which makes my entire body come alive with molten heat. Does he intend to join us?

A rustle of fabric follows as I stare up at Callum, trying to judge his mood. My heart is near beating out of my chest, and I think I might spontaneously climax from the thought of Gray joining us… of being between them like I was at the table downstairs, only closer, on a bed, with no clothes on… fully naked.

"If you think I'm going to sleep on the floor, you've got another think coming, whelp."

Callum growls again, lower deeper, and, Goddess help me, my pussy floods with slick.

Callum's nostrils flare. Does he… can he tell?

I think that he can.

"You're going to need to learn to share," Gray continues. "For I'm going nowhere. If I need to battle you every fucking night, then I will."

Callum ignores his final taunt, and with a determined glint in his eyes, he lowers his head.

A moan escapes me as his mouth covers mine, and his tongue slips between my lips. I cling to him, fisting his hair and moaning with pleasure. His hand rests on my breast, squeezing it roughly before his thumb brushes back and forth across my nipple. I arch up into him. His lips trail kisses over my jaw and down my throat, where he nips against my sensitive skin, growling.

I don't know what he's growling at, but it makes everything inside me clench and flutter with delight.

"You're going to need to undress the lass before you can rut her," Gray says, sounding closer than before. "Although I agree with you. That is a saucy little outfit. Though it pisses me off that it belonged to another, I very much like the way it clings like a second skin to her pert tits."

Callum's next growl has a distinct note of approval.

The shirt is too big for me, and he easily drags it over one shoulder to expose my breasts.

His hot lips enclose my nipple before he sucks half the plump flesh into his mouth. Pleasure pools low in my belly, ejecting the air from my lungs and a wanton moan from my lips.

Gray

I have shared women before, just as I have enjoyed the company of more than one lass. Shifters are gregarious by human standards. We are not troubled by human etiquette, taking pleasure vigorously and wherever we will. Yet I would be lying to myself if I pretended this was not different.

It feels different.

Callum is not a pack mate, nor do I know him well beyond we have glared at one another across the tavern for the last few months—and what I have learned about him in the short time we spent together aboard the ship.

He is struggling with the changes, of which there are many. He is no longer a beta claiming a woman as his wife, but a shifter who carries royal blood and who must share his mate. He has handled these transitions well—better than most would, I think. Were he a shifter of a rival pack, he would more likely have left me bloody as he asserted his claim.

Callum does not know our ways. At heart, he is still a blacksmith's lad whose father was part of the rebellion and, for whatever reason, left his home with his wife—a shifter with royal blood—and traveled all the way to Bleakness. Their story is undoubtedly complex, and I can only guess their reasons.

Despite his growling, which to an outsider might appear aggressive, Callum's tone carries very little aggression. I have been cruel to him and sought to assert my place with brutality lest he see it as weakness.

My actions were unwarranted against a man ignorant of our ways. I want to find fault in him and see his ways as weak, but I know they are not. He is simply different from me, coming from a different place and molded by his own life experiences. He is also younger than me. I have a good ten years on him, at my reckoning. Yet I sense already that he has a maturity that transcends mere years.

I can admit, too, that I enjoy watching him suck on her tit and making her moan and writhe. Our mutual love for Ada makes watching him like watching an extension of myself. His hand is already slipping down her pants and making her body arch.

I dare to put my knee on the side of the bed. He growls. While his focus appears to be on Ada, he is very aware of me and what I seek to do.

He does not shove me off nor snatch her away and take her to the corner as he did when he was in his beast form on the ship. Instead, he carries on with what he is doing, pleasuring her in front of me, showing me, just as I showed him, that he can make her body sing.

She is an omega between two dominant alphas. Her body would sing with very little provocation or help, but it is also clear that he has learned her body and what she likes.

My other knee hits the bed, and I slide in beside her. His growl rumbles, and his lips seek new ground and her unclaimed breast. The buttons pop on her shirt, giving him access to suckle her left tit, while her right tit is there, pump, quivering, and a little red and wet from where his mouth has been.

Like a fucking invitation.

"Goddess," she mutters as I lower my head.

She knows what I am about to do. Her fingers spear his hair, holding him close, but her other hand reaches toward me. Blinking at me through lust-drunk eyes, she cups my cheek.

I have no fucking restraint. If he rips me off and beats me for my presumptuousness, I don't fucking care. I can no more stop myself from tasting than I can stop my heart from beating in my chest.

My mouth lowers, and I enclose her stiff nipple in my mouth. I suck deeply, feeling instantly soothed by the action, even as my dick pulses and oozes pre-cum.

Her cry is pure visceral pleasure, and my cock flexes in answer.

My mind strays. I think of her body changing after we have bred her through her first heat, of her tits growing plump, full of milk, and of her belly swollen where our seed has been planted and grown.

It is a compelling vision. I cannot fucking wait. That there is a pack war between me and that elusive future is the bitterest of blows.

She comes with a scream, her fingers fisting my hair so tightly I feel some strands pull out.

My lips pop off her tit. I turn her to face me so I can capture her cries in my mouth, tasting her passion with all the greed of a starving me.

As her chest heaves and she comes down, I slowly lift my head to find Callum staring at me, his chest heaving and eyes a little glazed.

She whimpers, and my gaze lowers to where he pulls his hand from her pants.

When he shoves it into his mouth and sucks, my mouth fucking waters—I know how good she tastes, could snack on her sweet cunt all day and all night and never have enough.

My heart pounds as I wonder what he will do next.

"Strip her," he mumbles, and, almost like he's in a daze, he rises from the bed and begins tearing off his clothes.

I turn back to Ada. Her shirt is ruined with half the buttons missing, laying open to expose her beautiful tits. She needs rutting—by her mates.

"By your command," I say indulgently. "It will be my pleasure to strip our mate."

He rumbles something. I hear his boots thunk as he kicks them off, but I am already divesting our sweet little omega of her clothing.

She helps me or tries to. Mostly, she gets in the fucking way, but I admire her enthusiasm.

The red shirt goes flying and lands on the floor, and, soon after, her sexy little boots and pants are likewise stripped off and tossed to the floor.

She lies naked beside me, and I am trying to work out where I want to eat first when the bed dips under Callum's weight. He spreads her legs wide open and buries his head between them with a groan.

My cock jerks and gushes with pre-cum. "Gods," I mutter gruffly.

She opens her legs wider, helping him to get better access, and offers up filthy fucking moans as he eats her out.

I'm ready to shoot my load. Not that it would make any difference if I did. I don't believe my cock would even go down.

Somehow, I find the presence of mind not to interfere. He needs this; he needs to be the one driving this after what I did to him.

I turn her face toward me, and her eyes clash with mine.

"Does that feel good, Ada?" I ask, cupping her cheek and rubbing the pad of my thumb over her lower lip.

She nods slowly. "So good… I'm going to… Oh Goddess."

I watch as her climax plays out across her face, her cries, and the flush that spreads from her cheeks down to the swell of her tits.

She twitches and jerks.

Callum growls and, pinning her still so she cannot move, continues to devour her.

My fingers close around her throat as I instinctively move to support him, holding her immobile so he can have his way.

"Lie there like a good girl," I say. "Your mate needs you, and he will not stop until he is done."

"Oh, oh, oh!"

Callum growls, this time it is one fully steeped in pleasure.

He likes this and perhaps begins to understand what it can be like when two men share a mate. The arousal that bounces between you as you utterly dominate her. The pleasure you derive is proportional to that which you wrest from her body.

It is a heady thing.

I like very much that he is taking her beyond what she is comfortable with, that she is twitching, sensitive—oversensitive, perhaps—and that she feels like this might be too much.

Nonsense pours from her lips, and she jerks against our hold before her eyes flash to mine.

Her jaw hangs slack, and another deep, wanton moan erupts from her chest as she splinters into another climax.

If her cries are any indication, this one is even more powerful than the first.

Once more, I taste her pleasure, kissing her lips, swallowing up those sounds, and feeling them vibrate between us as she groans into my mouth.

She is suddenly jolted from me. I stare down her body to find her legs spread wide and Callum on his knees, buried inside her to the root.

I lean up a little to better see what he does.

He cups her ass in his big hands and begins to power into her.

The cries she makes now are different. They are absolutely wild.

I stroke my fingers through her hair, mesmerized by the play of emotions on her face. "Fuck, that feels good, doesn't it? Getting his cock all deep inside your needy cunt. Do you want to come again?"

Her fingers seek and find mine, squeezing tightly, like she is trying to ground herself.

It is too much. I cannot hold back. If he wants me off, he is going to have to do so by force. I'm betting on him not wanting to leave her pussy long enough to deal with me, and so I push my luck, rising to my knees as he continues to pound her with his cock.

I don't realize my intentions until I am leaning over her, my weeping cock in hand, level with her full lips.

"Open up for him, mate," Callum commands. "Open up and suck his dick."

His words sweep like a tingle over my skin. I am already fucking close, but knowing that he accepts this, that he might well enjoy watching her suck me off, as he watched many times before while bound on the ship, brings a surge of pure lust.

I knew he fucking liked it. The cum he spewed into his pants told me as much.

Today is different. He is not bound, nor is he forced to watch. No, he is choosing to.

I don't hesitate, and as her lips part, I slide down her throat.

It is a lot for her to take, even in my human form. Not that it stops her tongue from swirling around the head, her fingers digging into my hips, trying to pull me deeper.

"Fuck. Look at her," Callum says, a note of pride in his voice.

"I am not going to fucking last," I mutter.

"Me neither," he admits. "She feels too fucking good."

She moans around my cock, and her body jackknifes as she comes. In response, I see the sudden pickup and the speed of his fucking. The wet, sticky noises he makes. And then the way he slows, grunts, and stops.

The climax that rips through me is a revelation, a deep explosion of pleasure as my cock begins to shoot cum. It is not only my pleasure, for she is coming, and so is he.

She swallows greedily, a little trickling from the side of her mouth.

I can't think beyond the vision, aroused knowing he has knotted her despite my knot aching for the same.

As her throat works around my length, I pull out slowly, blinking, trying to work out where the fuck I am.

He gathers her limp body up and pitches onto his back, settling her over him to his satisfaction. She is soft in his arms, and if her dreamy expression is any indication, she is well satisfied.

I collapse onto my back beside him. The bed is not big enough for two men our size, but I wouldn't be anywhere else. And then I turn onto my side because I can't help but keep pushing. I brush the hair back from her cheek.

Callum purrs. It has a pleasing rumble, and I take up the sound.

She softens and moves against him, a little restless.

He wraps one arm around her ass and presses her down.

She moans and burrows her nose deeper into his chest.

I lift my eyes from her to find him staring back at me. There is the faintest smirk before he closes his eyes determinedly.

I grin and, likewise, roll onto my back. I don't even care that the covers are rolled up at the bottom somewhere. I will get them in a bit.