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Still the pile of credit chips was far more daunting.
All that food sat like a weight in her belly, churning with her heart until Wren felt sweat gather at her temples. The last unbalanced chip fell from the pile, that horrible music over, and lavender eyes broke away to fall, lost, on the approaching First.
Signing, aware she was completely ridiculous, she asked. “What do I do with it?”
“You’ll have to write it down, mouse.” Just like the slate she’d used in her lost home to speak with him, Caspian produced a panel and chalk.
An entire piece of unbroken, unused, precious chalk.
She wrote down her question, the male ignoring the stink of anger wafting from Kieran as he answered. “You sold yourself to me. I don’t care what you do with it.”
Mikael could go to school like a normal kid. He could sleep above the filth and dirt. He wouldn’t have to scavenge or steal. Alec could rule the world with that pile of sin.
“You won’t take it away?”
Pulling Wren from where she’d wedged herself between the wall and the Second, Caspian said, “Kieran, leave the room. Go to the pen, fuck off the rut, and deal with your new mate before I get another complaint.”
Clenched teeth, real, acrid rage. “This bitch told me she returned for her boys.”
Caspian cocked his head, eyes narrowed. “She did. The money is for the boys.” Putting a hand to Wren’s shoulder, his next words were for her. “And there won’t be any further hard feelings. Isn’t that right, Jax?”
Her heart was bursting with hard feelings, chalk dashing over slate so she might scratch out her growing fear, “I still need to see them.”
Large fingers pinched a lock of white hair, mud-brown eyes indulgent as he toyed. “On occasion, unless you give me reason to refuse. Try to run, hide from me, and I’ll make sure you never see your boys ever again. You are bought and paid for now. No more negotiations.”
Coming back to the waterworks had been a death sentence after all.
She would die here. Just not today.
Meanwhile, her boys would have a real chance, not that she wanted to approach, touch, or horde that pile of wealth that would secure it for them.
“It’s only money, girl.”
Only money? That was a life sentence combined with an actual chance for survival. It was beyond comprehension to someone who’d never had more than ten credits in her hand ever.
“You were supposed to be grateful.”
She might not get murdered in the Warrens for that pile of money, but lifting that silver dome—the one that was no doubt dented from the fall—was the death of her. This was it, really it.
Her body had been sold for tangible payment, and it felt far more weighty than any claiming mark.
Forehead settling to Caspian’s chest, drawing in the scent of him, seeking comfort from the jabbing blend of feeling, Wren closed her eyes to all of it.
Stroking her hair, Caspian offered a light purr, neither overly indulgent nor manipulative. It was just there, like his heartbeat was there.
Without the weight of terrible threat hanging over her children, the exchange felt different. More normal.
Even natural.
But only a fool would let herself enjoy it. It could be days, it could be months, but Caspian would find another new girl to trick, spoil, and fuck. He would get bored of a complacent, damaged Omega.
Lashes lifted, one final breath of perfect Alpha, and Wren sold her dreams for the bright future of her boys. With a smile, she pulled back, held out her hand, and struck a bargain with a veritable monster.
It wasn’t a handshake the male sought to seal their deal. Lips brushing hers, he murmured. “Good girl.”
Chapter 11
Silk. Spider silk as pale as moonlight caught Caspian in a web he’d gladly tangle around his limbs. Around his cock. Fuck, it would feel incredible stroking his cock.
Running over his hips while he pushed her head down his shaft.
Their last mating had been vulgar in its transience. One frenzied thrust before the knot he’d fought to produce for a goddamn week burst forth. Flooding her so soon had left the taste of heaven on his tongue, even if she had been coated in filth, and stinking of sickness.
Tasting her now, blood pumped into an overly swollen cock, the teeth of his zipper barely contained what pulsated and wept. Had Rosie’s lips been stretched around such girth as Caspian had watched the pretty mouse eat, he would have cum each time the female sighed. He would have broken Rosie’s jaw with his knot when the mouse moaned.
As it was, an astonishing amount of fluid had built up in his sack. It felt as if it sloshed when he pressed closer to his greatest treasure, that it churned. Had his pants not held back his prick, it would have bounced with each pulse of blood in his veins.
