The Alpha's Captive (3 page)

Pup? Was that some kind of British slang?

“My name’s Hannah,” she said.

“I know. You told us,” he said. “You told us quite a lot of things. Some of them even made sense.”

He was teasing her gently, but Hannah could sense that there was something more to the little interlude. She clutched the covers to her neck and watched him with a wary concern. He was not leaving the room. He was standing there being handsome and tall and fully clothed compared to her nudity. He wasn’t done with her, but she wasn’t sure what his intentions were.

“Uhm, well, thanks for helping me out, that was nice.”

“I’m going to help you out again too,” he said. “You made quite a mess of the Rusty Shank, and that’s a hard place to mess up. There were damages, breakages, it was all quite expensive.”

“I don’t remember breaking anything,” she frowned.

“You don’t remember anything, I’ll wager. They asked you to leave and you decided you didn’t want to.” His eyes crinkled with amusement. “You put up quite a fight.”

“That doesn’t sound like me,” she scowled, scratching her head. As she raised her hand, she saw that there were faint bruises on her wrists and upper arm. “Whoa,” she uttered in surprise.

“Mhm,” he said. “And you were lucky to get away with a few bruises and scrapes.”

“Wow,” she said, surprised. “Really?”

“Really,” he said, shaking his head at her. “You have got to learn to handle your drink, pup.”

“Why do you keep calling me that?” Hannah frowned.

“It fits you,” he said. “My name is Lorcan, by the way. Thought I should introduce myself before I deal with you.”

“Deal with me?”

“Well, you don’t look like you’ve got any money to settle your debt, which means…”

Hannah’s eyes went wide. “You want me to have sex for money?”

“No,” he laughed. “It means you’re going to have your arse thrashed.”

Her eyes went wider still. “I think I’d prefer the sex option.”

“Before anything happens,” he said, stepping toward the bed. “You’re going to have a bath. You’re a right mess, you are.”

“I don’t need a… hey!”

Hannah squeaked as Lorcan slid his arms under her body and lifted her out of bed without giving her an opportunity to refuse. She found her naked body pressed against his chest, his arms holding her securely in what felt like a caring embrace. Hannah could not do anything but submit to his will as he carried her through a door into a large albeit antiquated bathroom that seemed to have been restored from period times. She was not sure what ‘period times’ consisted of precisely, she was no historian, but the tall tub with claw-shaped feet waiting for her looked as though it had bathed people for generations, its gleaming white porcelain standing stoically as Lorcan slid her slowly into the water.

She felt so incredibly small and guilty for being such trouble, but Lorcan did not seem concerned at all. It was as if he’d given a hundred hungover young women a hundred baths before. Perhaps he had. She didn’t know a thing about him, aside from the fact he was devilishly handsome and appeared to live in some kind of mansion.

“Are you well enough to clean yourself?”

“Yes!” She blushed the answer. Her nudity was not at all obscured by the water, and her shame was growing with every passing moment. “I’ll be alright. You don’t have to stand there.”

“I don’t want you passing out in the bath,” he said. “You had a skinful last night.”

“I’m awake now,” she said, sliding down as much as she could and lifting her knees up so just the tips of them were poking above the waterline. Her chin was level with the water too, the bulk of her body surrounded by the comfort of the bath. She gave him an accusatory look designed to make him leave her alone. It did not work.

Lorcan seemed to have no concern at all at seeing a woman he barely knew without clothing. He’d taken charge of her as if he had some right to do so, which was a strange thing for Hannah to try to adjust to. She’d heard of culture shock, but this was like no culture she had ever imagined.

“Is this what all you British people are like?” She scowled the question at him. “Do you watch people take baths?”

A thick brow lifted at her as she tried in vain to cover her various feminine charms with her knees and her hands. “I can’t speak for the rest of the population, but I know very well you need an eye kept on you.”

“At least look away while I wash,” Hannah said. “I can’t bathe with some strange man watching me.”

“Can you bathe while you’re arguing?”

She stared at him, completely unable to fathom the arrogance that allowed him to stand there with his eyes locked on her as if he had some right to invade her privacy.

“Seriously, get out.”

“That’s not how things work here,” Lorcan said firmly. “Here, I make the rules. You lost your right to decide how things happen when you got blackout drunk and had to be taken care of.”

Hannah screwed up her nose. It wasn’t exactly fair, but what could she do? The big man with the fascinating gaze wasn’t going anywhere. Unless… she scooped up a handful of water and cast it at him, sending an arc of gleaming droplets in his direction. Most of them fell short, wetting the tile and the bathmat, but little else.

“You know, being spanked on a wet bottom hurts a lot more than being spanked on a dry one,” he observed in bland British tones.

“You’re not going to spank me,” she informed him. “I’m not some… one you can spank.”

“Do you want me to prove otherwise right now, or do you want to have your bath first?”

He was maddening. Utterly certain in his right to treat her like some kind of… she didn’t even know how he was treating her. Almost as if he owned her. And yet they were complete strangers to one another.

“I don’t even know you,” she said, attitude dripping from every word. She was aware she sounded like some kind of spoiled Valley girl, but she was fast running out of defenses. Nothing seemed to make Lorcan aware that he was not in the right.

“We’re getting to know one another,” he said, flashing her an unrepentant toothy white smile. Hannah looked at him with disbelief. He truly was like no man she had known before.

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-eight,” he said. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-five.”

“Liar,” he said, his lips twisting. “You’re eighteen if you’re a day.”

“I’m nineteen and several days, actually,” she shot back. He let out a chuckle and shook his head at her.

“You’re a very long way from home in a very remote little village,” he observed as she finally gave in, picked up the soap, and started washing away not just the events of the evening, but the sweat and grime of the journey it had taken to get there. She had been traveling for almost three consecutive days and there was a distinct buildup on her skin, layers of airports and buses and trains and all the smog and airborne debris that came with big cities and crowded places. It was good to feel it slide from her skin and be dissolved into the increasingly soapy water in the bathtub.

“I’m young,” she said. “Young people don’t have homes, they have destinations.”

“Is that right?”

“Yup,” she nodded.

“Quite a theory you have,” he said as she tried to surreptitiously soap her breasts.

It was impossible to clean her more intimate areas with him watching as he was. How could she slide her fingers down through the warm water to touch her pussy in the company of a man?

“Would you please at least turn around,” she said, a blush rising to her cheeks. “You don’t need to see everything.”

To her surprise, he nodded and turned, giving her the privacy to run her fingers through her most intimate places, all the while keeping a close eye on him, her eyes roaming the impressive breadth of his shoulders, his height, his tight, powerful-looking ass encased in dark denim. Hannah enjoyed looking at him almost as much as he seemed to enjoy looking at her.

She realized her fingers were lingering in against her pussy, teasing the little bud at the apex of her lips as she watched Lorcan, making sure he did not turn around and catch her playing with herself in the bath. She was excited, adding her own wetness to the water, if that were even possible. It felt so naughty to be touching herself, stimulating her clit while Lorcan stood there, giving her a semblance of privacy, which she had immediately subverted to pleasure herself.

Her fingers circled faster and faster in little swirls, making round ripples on the surface of the bath as she silently rubbed herself to what felt like a stolen climax. It was hard not to let out little moans, or to make the water slosh back and forth. She even had to try to control her breathing, which was coming in shorter and shorter breaths as her excitement grew, the tingling and warmth in her clit spreading outwards, reaching through her body in welling waves that made her more reckless and more excited with every breath.

Heat suffused her face as Lorcan glanced over his shoulder. “Those are some very quiet washing sounds, lass. Are you still awake?”

“I’m just…” she squeaked, running out of excuses before she’d even made one. “I am cleaning myself,” she said lamely, feeling the peak of the pleasure still so far away, but the stimulation making her pussy throb.

“Mhm. I think you’ve had long enough in that bath.” He picked up a towel and held it out in her direction.

Blushing, and somewhat sure that he knew precisely what she had been doing, Hannah took the towel from his outstretched hand and did her best to simultaneously wrap it around herself as she stood up, claiming a little modesty back. It was nice to be covered, the towel the first semblance of privacy since she’d woken up in his presence. She clutched at it tightly, glad for the soft shield.

She avoided his gaze, but his deep voice carried a knowing tone. “Come through to the bedroom and we’ll talk.”

There was something ominous in his words, something about the way he said ‘talk’ that didn’t feel like he wanted to talk at all, but she didn’t really have any choice. There were no windows in the little bathroom and she didn’t want to come across as defiant. Lorcan already seemed somewhat inclined to punish what he thought of as bad behavior.

“It’s really nice of you to have helped me,” she said as she followed his broad frame. “I think I’ll be okay now, if you could just find me my clothes?”

“Your clothes are in no state to be worn,” Lorcan said firmly.

“Well, I have a change of clothes in my bag,” Hannah said, her tone brightening as she suddenly realized that she was not completely out of luck.

“Your bag? We didn’t see a bag.”

“Fuck!” Hannah swore to herself. She must have left it behind at the pub. The only things she had with her were the locket and the book, the two things she would never have gone anywhere without. “My bag had all my clothes in it… my passport… and my fucking money too.” She sat down on the bed, sighing deeply. “I am so fucked.”

“We’ll send someone to see if they have it at the Rusty Shank,” Lorcan reassured her. “Chances are Moira has it behind the bar. Don’t worry about any of that right now.”

He spoke in a calm, confident tone that made her feel as though everything really would be okay, but Hannah knew she’d fucked up, and all the nice reassuring words couldn’t change that.

“I made such a mess of everything,” she said, burying her face in her hands. “You must think I’m a terrible person.”

“I don’t think anything of the sort,” Lorcan replied. “I think you need a guiding hand, and I think I’m the hand you need.”

Hannah kept her face covered. As far as she was concerned, it had all been a huge mistake. She wasn’t ready to come this far, and in the cold light of day she was starting to think that there was no great mystery. In fact, following a diary halfway across the world was something crazy people did. Honoraria hadn’t been leading her anywhere; she’d probably made half the thing up from her hotel room at the Savoy.

Pure adrenaline and wild hope and a perfectly childish belief in the impossible had taken her so far away from home that it physically hurt. She missed America. She missed the big highways and the bright signs and she missed her phone. She hadn’t even brought it with her, figuring it wouldn’t work on the British networks anyway. She was completely cut off from civilization, suddenly dependent on a complete stranger whose intentions were not entirely clear and whose customs were beyond strange.

“Are you alright? Do you want to be sick?”

“I’m not alright,” she said with a bitter laugh. “I’m… I came all this way because of a stupid book and look at me. It was all just a stupid idea and…” She let her voice trail off, not wanting to tell Lorcan any more about her mad idea. He would probably laugh at her. He already thought she was a silly girl who couldn’t handle her drink—or a bath, for that matter.

“You’ll feel better once you’ve been held to account for your actions,” he said in that same confident tone as before. “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to travel and explore the world. You just got a little out of hand.”

“Held to account,” she sighed and looked up at him. “What does that even mean?”

Lorcan sat next to her on the bed, and for a moment Hannah thought he was going to offer some kind words of advice. He reached out and put his hand over hers.

“It means you get a long, hard spanking.”

“What? No!”

“What did you think was going to happen?”

“I thought you’d say something nice, tell me everything is going to be alright. Tea and crumpets, eh wot?”

“That’s not how we deal with miscreants in this part of the world.” He patted his dark denim-clad thigh. “Let’s get this over with, pup.”

“No!” Hannah’s exclamation sounded strangled. “I mean, please, mister, I don’t know why I did any of that, but I promise I don’t usually do things like that. That was my first night drinking…”

He let out a snort. “Well, you had a hell of a first night. And there are consequences for that. So come here and lie over my lap.”

Lorcan spoke with almost soothing tones, though there was a firmness that reminded her he was ordering her to let him spank her bottom.

“I’m not from here,” she said in an attempt to invoke some kind of cultural immunity. “So I, uh, didn’t know that I could… that this would…”