Chapter Forty-Four
The New Blood Moon Pack never came to fruition.
Its members, easily identifiable by the tattoos on their wrists, were quickly apprehended and killed.
They were all dissidents from Lewis’s pack, and they all had squandered the first opportunity given by the High King.
There would be no second chance. Freya learned of Jon’s role in her kidnapping, and she was confused.
Deep down, she didn’t know if she could forgive him or not, but the man had spent the last few years as imprisoned as she had been.
Only the bars of his cage were not visible to the naked eye, like hers.
He was a prisoner of his own madness, his delusions ... his mind.
In the end, she mourned him. Declan and Ciaran didn’t seem to be as generous with their forgiveness, and she couldn’t blame them.
She could only hope that one day they’d see things through her eyes.
They had also omitted the identity of the man who had kidnapped her; he was dead and, in their own words, it was better not to be remembered. He would never return to harm her.
There were no threats to their future, and for that they were thankful. The High King had given them permission to return to their Alpha’s service, releasing them from his. They had already served in his army and were free to return home.
He also wanted regular updates about Freya, as his ward.
Freya, who had no idea what that meant, was blissfully ignorant.
For all the times she’d been told to use her “words, little one. We’re not inside your head”, now she’d found them all.
She’d understood that shifters were like humans: there were good shifters and bad shifters.
She ended up with the shortest straw in the beginning but was now member of a pack that protected her fiercely.
Nothing would bring her parents back, but she’d gained an honorary uncle and aunt, a nanna from the heart and several cousins from either side.
She enrolled in online classes and was bent on earning her GED.
What she’d do afterward, she’d see later.
Sometimes she had flashbacks. Some less intense, from which she could return fairly easily, others deeper, that would take both her mates to help her recover.
Once, she returned from one particularly bad one to find herself on Declan’s lap, with Ciaran firmly securing her legs, their eyes frantic with worry.
With time, they learned to recognize the symptoms. The vacant, fixed gaze, the empty expression, the quick breath ... and the panic that followed. Luckily, they weren’t very frequent.
They took their time before making love again. It had to come from her, as they had no idea what was inside her head, or where her mind was at. They were busy reinforcing the defenses in their home, so that no one could spy on them ever again.
Tanya also took Freya for frequent runs. She was badly out of shape, and she wanted to help her gain some muscle, as well as healing her badly injured body. The scars would remain, but she could move freely now in a way that she couldn’t one year before, in more ways than one.
But Freya missed being with her men. They were treating her with kids’ gloves, and she was fed up. For the first time ever ... she wanted sex.
That night, when they returned home, the table was set and dinner was in the oven. The smell of lasagna filled the air.
They took a quick shower to cleanse the body of the day and returned to the living room in no time, where Freya was waiting for them with a silk negligée that left little to nothing to the imagination. They growled when they saw her, their eyes exchanging colors.
“You’re playing with fire, little one.”
“Am I?” She smiled innocently.
“Words, angel,” grumbled Ciaran. Because he was nearer, she could see the tent in his pants. She licked her lips.
“This time, I don’t think so,” she whispered before kneeling and pulling the pants of his tracksuit down. He stood to attention, and she moaned as she took him in her mouth.
“Fuck!” he hissed, grabbing her head tightly. She sucked on it until her cheeks became hollow. “Angel...”
Declan knelt beside her and found her clit beneath the translucid negligée. One of his hands was playing with her nipples, while the other was strumming her clit. The only sound in the room was ragged breaths and sucking sounds.
Ciaran came in her mouth, securing her tightly and watching her swallowing his cum with satisfaction. Declan pinched her clit, and she cried her orgasm, convulsing in his arms.
In his arms, she felt desirable, powerful, and invincible. Panting, licking her lips, she looked at the bulge in Declan's pants and caressed it through his clothes. In a swift movement, Declan undressed and she swallowed him too, repeating what she had already done with Ciaran.
When he shouted his release, he did it outside, marking her with his cum. He watched as she panted, desire still visible in her eyes.
“It seems our little angel wants more, brother,” he cooed, and there was something lurking in his eyes that made her shiver in anticipation.
“Well, we can’t keep her wanting, can we, brother?”
She was soaking wet, and Ciaran entered her pussy easily. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head when she felt Declan teasing her asshole.
“Do you want this, little one? Do you want your mate’s cock?”
“Yes...” she whispered. “I want it. Both. Fuck me.”
Despite the amount of fresh gel Declan had given her, there was still a sting of pain when he first entered.
He was by no means a small man and she wasn’t very used to taking them both at the same time standing.
She cried when he slammed home. The feeling of having both holes completely full was overwhelming.
They were panting but weren’t moving because they needed to be sure she was okay.
They started slowly in the beginning, but as soon as they realized she was fine, they increased their rhythm. They both came at the same time, their cum dripping down from her, their bodies a mess of sweat and sperm.
“I love you...” she whispered, totally spent.
“And we love you, little angel,” they answered in unison.