The Alpha's Captive (10 page)

“I already have,” he said plainly. “And I will also expect your obedience.”

“Oh, of course you will,” she said, throwing up the arm that did not hurt in the air. “You expect everything of me just because I know your secret. Well, fuck you. I don’t owe you anything. You might have trapped my great-great-aunt here, but I’m going to get out.”

The corner of his lips twisted wryly. “We will see about that, pup.”

“Yes,” she said, green eyes blazing at him. “We will see. Or rather, you’ll see, because I’ll be gone.”

“I know this is hard to take in,” he said with a level of patience that only made her frustration rise. It was as if he just didn’t care how she felt, or worse, the dominant indulgence he viewed her with made it impossible for him to take her seriously. She wasn’t a threat, he didn’t believe she could escape, he was just humoring her in an attempt to get her to roll over and do as she was told. Well, that wasn’t going to happen.

“I’m leaving,” she said, standing up from the breakfast table. As her hands came up past the rim of the small table they caught hold, and one dramatic impulse made her lift it sharply, flipping the table and the toast and the tea all in a distinctly British arc. “I’m leaving!” she declared at the top of her voice. “And you cannot stop me!”

She made to storm past Lorcan dramatically, but he caught her by the back of her sweatshirt and hauled her up to her tiptoes with no effort at all. He pulled her back against him, his lips at her ear as he spoke in those dangerously refined tones.

“That was a mistake, pup.”

“I don’t give a f… ow!”

His hand clapped against her rear as loud as thunder. The swat was enough to shock her, remind her that he was not a man to be argued with, he was a beast who demanded she respect his dominance.

“When I’m done with you, you’re going to pick all of that up,” he informed her as he marched her inside by the scruff of her neck.

“My ribs, Lorcan!” she squeaked in hopes he would relent.

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m not going to spank you yet,” he said, marching her through to the bathroom en suite.

Hannah had no idea what he had in mind, not even when he picked up the bar of soap. She was even so foolish as to ask him why he was holding it, which gave him ample opportunity to answer the question by sliding it into her mouth over her tongue. He held it in place as she tried to spit it out, his grip on her sweater keeping her from pulling away. All her struggles really achieved was to make the bitter soap rub back and forth over her teeth and her tongue, coating her mouth with an acrid taste that made her want to spit.

“You’re a fucking asshole, Lorcan!”

He sighed and pushed the soap back into her mouth.

“Must you learn quite this slowly?”

She found his question about as patronizing as having her mouth washed out with soap in the first place. Spluttering, she reserved her thoughts as Lorcan pulled the soap out again and let her spit into the sink.

“I expect respect,” he lectured. “I will not tolerate tantrums, displays of temper, or foul language.”

“You didn’t care about foul language when I was fucking you,” she snapped at him.

“That was before you were mine,” he informed her. “You are part of my pack now, Hannah. You do as you are told, or you face the consequences.”

Hannah expressed her feelings on that statement by giving him a swift kick right in the shin. The toe of her sneaker met his leg with a satisfying sound, added to by his grunt of surprise.

“You vicious little whelp,” he growled down at her, giving her a little shake.

She scowled at him completely unrepentantly. If Lorcan Wallace truly thought he could take her and make her his willing prisoner, he was very much mistaken. She’d turn tables, she’d curse, she’d kick him until his shins were black and blue. She didn’t care.

“You don’t get it,” she hissed up at him. “I’m not one of your little puppy dogs. I don’t give a fuck about your rules. And I’m never, ever, ever going to do what you tell me. Not ever.”

“We’ll see about that, whelp,” he said, his grip tightening on the back of her sweater.

Hannah wasn’t scared. She knew he couldn’t physically punish her until her ribs were fully healed. The taste of soap wasn’t enough to stop her either. It was unpleasant, but she didn’t care, not really.

He pushed the soap back between her lips and hauled her over to the corner of the room where he held her in place.

“I’d tell you to stay here, but you wouldn’t,” he growled in her ear. “There are a lot of ways to discipline a bratty little whelp, Hannah, and you’re going to discover them all if you don’t learn your lesson.”

Bubbling and foaming at the mouth, Hannah made a defiant sound. So she was facing a corner, so what. It didn’t mean anything.

His hand left the soap for a moment. Immediately, she spat it out. It was a brief victory, because he was using his spare hand to yank her jeans and panties down to her knees, baring her bottom in that cold Victorian washroom.

Before she could say anything, Lorcan’s hand swung against her rear again in a hard slap that would have brought her to her toes if she were not already on them. The bastard! He was spanking her standing up! It didn’t put any pressure on her ribs, not really unless she squirmed about to avoid the slaps. Which meant that she couldn’t squirm, and she couldn’t avoid any of the punishment.

He spanked her with hard fast swats, each one designed to leave a distinct impression. Perhaps because of her still somewhat injured state, he only delivered twelve slaps, but by the time he was done her ass was burning and she had tears of pain and frustration running down her face.

She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror as she turned around. She looked an utter mess, her bottom marked with bright red handprints, soapy bubbles running down her chin, and tears streaming from her eyes.

She must have looked just as pathetic to Lorcan, for he made a sighing sound and drew her against his body, hugging her close. “Why must you make this so difficult?”

“I hate you and I’m not sorry,” she cried into his chest, still tasting the soap strongly with every word.

“I’m sure,” he said, rubbing her back in a slow circular motion.

She pulled away from him and moved to rinse her mouth out in the sink. That temporarily made things worse as the soap was literally washed around her mouth, coating her tongue in the gross substance that caused her taste buds to rebel furiously. She spat the soap out over and over, rinsing until there was nothing but the faintest aftertaste.

When she was satisfied that was as good as she was going to get, she wiped her mouth on the back of her sleeve and turned to scowl at Lorcan’s elegantly masculine form. “How dare you,” she growled.

“It’s not a matter of daring, it’s a matter of discipline. You seem to think you can do as you please without consequences. You know better now.”

Still scowling, Hannah crouched down and pulled her pants and panties back up. Doing so under Lorcan’s amused gaze was another embarrassment in itself. She hated how composed and even kind he could be while simultaneously handing out humiliating punishments.

“You’re such a… a…” A vast array of words came to mind, but she didn’t want to risk another bar of soap to express them. He might have thought it was discipline that stopped her cursing, but Hannah swore a silent vow to herself that she would never bow to his discipline except for when she absolutely had to. All he had done was drive her rebellion into the shadows.

“I think it’s time you took one of your painkillers and had a nap,” Lorcan suggested. “You’re particularly temperamental today.”

She allowed herself to be taken to the bed and given one of the pills the doctor had prescribed for the pain. It probably wouldn’t work on homesickness or wounded pride, but at least it would make her zone out for a little while.

Lorcan watched over her as she took her pill with a sip of water that tasted unpleasantly soapy.

“You’re such an asshole,” she growled at him. “And I’m going to escape. I am.”

“At least give yourself a few days to recover before you try your grand escape,” he said with a wink. “May as well give yourself the best chance of success, because if I catch you, you can bet you won’t sit for a very long time.”

“Don’t threaten me, Lorcan,” she snarled.

“I’m not threatening you, I’m telling you that if you set foot out of the manor I will take a cane to your bottom and leave you in no doubt that disobeying me is a very, very bad idea.”

“If you even try to cane me, I’ll shove that thing so far…”

“Hannah!” Her name cracked through the air, making her shut her mouth for fear of swifter retribution. “That’s enough,” he said in a deep gravelly tone that he only used when someone was about to get their butt handed to them.

Hannah settled into a sullen silence as Lorcan sat down in the armchair near her bed and they looked at one another, Hannah defiant, Lorcan determined until the sedative effect of the medication kicked in and she found her eyelids too heavy to do anything besides shut in much-needed sleep.

For the first week of her captivity, Hannah was utterly miserable. Her injuries were not serious, but they were uncomfortable and the painkillers made her feel ill and all she wanted to do was go home, but of course that was not allowed. Lorcan tried his best to be kind, but he could not give her what she really wanted, and he would not bend on his decision to keep her captive.

“Your ribs are fully healed. The doctor says there’s no reason you shouldn’t get out of bed,” he said, standing at her bedside. “I will take you for a walk on the heath, if you like.”

“No, thank you,” Hannah said, avoiding his gaze. She stared out the window at the gray sky and thought depressing thoughts. She was not going to make Lorcan feel better about the horrible decision he’d made for her. If he didn’t like to see her moping about, well then she’d just mope even harder. Teach him a real lesson.

“Maybe this will cheer you up,” he said, handing her a book.

Hannah ignored it. She didn’t even look at the volume sitting on her midsection. She didn’t care about anything, not about books, not about breathing, not about anything.

“It’s the diary your great-great-aunt wrote during her time here,” he said. “One of them, anyway. I can’t say that what’s in it won’t be disturbing on some level, but I think you deserve to have it.”

His words brought her out of her stupor of self-pity. She snatched the book up from the bed. “Honoraria wrote this?”

“She liked to keep diaries, I suppose,” Lorcan said with a little shrug. “I think this one is the one she wrote when she found herself in a similar position to the one you find yourself in now.”

He retreated to the chair he often sat in with her. She did not know if he was trying to spend time with her, or simply keeping guard. Either way it didn’t make much of a difference. Her curiosity reignited, Hannah opened the book and began to read. Almost immediately, Honoraria’s words started to echo her own experience.

I am a prisoner. These beasts are holding me captive and there is little I can do but bow to their will. A hundred of them stalk these halls and the surrounding heath. They run the village too. And they have decided that I will be among their number.

The alpha is a strange man indeed. His temperament is remote, his aspect frightening. I find myself quivering whenever he is near.

Hannah nodded to herself. The alpha sounded like some relative of Lorcan’s, if the description was anything to go by. Okay, maybe Lorcan wasn’t remote, but he was domineering and she knew the quivering sensation all too well. She flipped through a few pages, until another entry caught her eye.

I made an attempt at escape today. It was ill-fated, which I should have known from the outset but the impulse for freedom is too strong to be ignored. I write this while leaning against the mantelpiece, for sitting at a desk is an impossibility. Reginald took an ash branch lash to me most thoroughly, and my hindquarters are marked from the backs of my knees to the top of my buttocks. I have not been subject to such punishment since my juvenile days, and then to a much lesser extent. I cursed him every moment he delivered his brutish justice and left him in no doubt as to my opinion.

Putting the diary down, Hannah bristled both on Honoraria’s behalf and her own. “You are bullies,” she said. “All of you. Present and past.”

“Oh, yes?” Lorcan looked up from his own book. “What makes you say that?”

“What was done to Honoraria was cruel and unnecessary.”

“What was done to her? I confess, I have not read her diary myself. It felt like too private a thing to intrude upon.”

“She was… whipped. With a tree branch or something.”

“Ah,” Lorcan said, the hint of a smile playing around masculine lips. “A switch. That would probably work wonders on you. You’ve got a very tender bottom.”

“Lorcan!” Hannah scowled at him furiously. “You’re a brute.”

“Hardly,” he said, smiling at her. “I’ve let you wallow for a week. If one of my ancestors got their hands on you, you’d be scrubbing out chamber pots and getting your bottom whipped at least once a day for your attitude. I’m a kinder, gentler alpha.”

She let out a laugh, the first she’d had since Sacha’s attack. It felt good to smile again.

“Okay,” she said, tossing the covers back. “I’m going to get up.”

“You have free run of the manor, and the manor grounds,” Lorcan said. “But make sure you stay off the heath, understand?”

“Yes, sir, of course, sir,” Hannah said, bobbing into a cheeky little curtsey.

He gave her a dark warning look, but said nothing more.

* * *

Lorcan had been quite clear about the fact she was not supposed to leave the manor, but Hannah soon discovered there were at least half a dozen doors that led out of that place and Lorcan simply didn’t have the manpower to have most of them watched. His pack was small, and some of them were apparently keeping Sacha under watch. There was, therefore, nobody actually stopping her from leaving either the manor house, or the grounds themselves, which were similarly unguarded and open.