Page 15 of Claimed By Rage

My body trembles with a rush of relief.Rebel.The most sane one of them all. I grab his hand and hold on tight, unable to tear my gaze away from the way Rage’s body moves. The muscles in his shoulders ripple as he throws Goliath to the ground. The muscles in his forearms are flexed, his fists tight, as he stomps on Goliath’s leg to keep him from scrambling away.

While Rage’s victim howls in pain, Rebel chuckles in my ear.

“Buckle up, baby. Rage is gonna fight for every—” Rebel kisses my neck—“last—” slides his warm hand inside the slit on my skirt—“inch—” and pants in my ear— “of you.”

A moan falls from my lips as Rebel slips his fingers inside my panties, but it’s not his touch that I’m focused on.

It’s Rage. The roar of his anger touches mine, breathing new life into my body, making my blood warm and my heart race. I was already strung out on nerves and adrenaline, butthis—this is something different, something more primal, something more dangerous.

Because while I should be revolted by how Rage touches me like he owns me, it’s the way he moves with such conviction and confidence as he beats the shit out of someone who touched me that reaches the deepest scars around my heart andsqueezes.

This isn’t a man staking his claim for all the world to witness.

It’s the promise of him keeping it.

Chapter 5

Rebel

Rage likesto talk big about responsibility and our duty to the bratva. I get it—the man’s spent over a decade climbing the ranks of power. When you’re in that deep, it’s hard not to be ayes manto whatever the boss asks. Running a club likeMidnightcomes from one of thoseyes, sirmoments with ourpakhan. It fronts as a VIP exclusive, sexy rager of a party, but we funnel various things through our clientele like drugs or dirty money. Rage thinks this place is our responsibility, a repayment toward the organization that took us in when we were unruly teenagers left to fend for ourselves.

Butthismanright here, the one knocking his fists into some other guy’s teeth, is the one I recognize. Not the guy who’s responsible and loyal and all that other boring shit, but the one who will snap someone’s neck for looking at us funny, who wields his body like the weapon he’s spent years at the gym creating.

Violence is a language of its own—and Rage is fucking fluent.

Our girl’s cheeks flush deep crimson as she stares at my older brother. I understand that, too. He’s fucking ripped on account of how often he pumps iron, building muscles in places that should be illegal. His dress shirt pulls across his shoulders witheach swing of his arm, and it’s a shame that the damn thing won’t rip apart.

Because our girl? She’ssalivating.

“Like what you see?” I tease, humming in her ear. Celia is wet asfuck, already drenching her panties. My fingers glide smoothly over her clit, and she gasps, clutching my forearm tightly. She shakes her head, sending a wave of her sweet conditioner into my face, and I inhaledeep.Spending my evenings with her has given me a hard-on for all thingsCelia, including the fucking smell of her hair. What was the name of that bottle, again?Passionate Peach?I make a mental note to check her shower the next time I’m digging through her bathroom.

“He’s a—oh god,” she keens, tossing her head back onto my shoulder. There’s this little divot between her eyebrows as she worries her lip between her teeth.

I chuckle as I press the flat of my fingertip against her clit, feeling it pulse. “Well, I wouldn’t call himthat—it’ll go straight to his head.” She buries her face in my neck, but I click my tongue. “No, baby, you can’t hide. Not from this.Look.” I have to remove my hand from her panties—a fuckingtravesty—to reach up and grab her chin. I turn her face back toward Rage so that we can watch the masterpiece unfold. “It’s a work of art, you know. The way he moves. Watch how he overpowers the other guy.”

Rage has flipped the man onto his back and stomped on his fingers, no doubt breaking a few of them, but what draws my attention isn’t the poor man suffering a beat-down, it’s the total domination my brother has over him. That’s what I want Celia to focus on, too. “Look at how strong he is, Celia. He’s a protector. He’s keeping you safe from bad men.” I nod toward Rage, watching as he kicks the guy’s side, likely bruising a vital organ or something. He kneels, pushing his knee into his victim’s chest to keep him pressed flat to the floor, and returns to punchingthe guy’s face. I’ll have to step in soon, but for now, I brush my fingers over the column of Celia’s throat, admiring how warm she is to the touch.

“Heisthe bad guy,” she chokes out, struggling to free herself from my hold. “That other guy wasn’t going to do anything.”

I scoff. “You can be pretty all you want, Celia, but youhaveto be smart. He was going to take you into the Playroom and fuck you raw even if you begged him not to. Is that what you wanted? Some random guy’s dick tearing into your sweet, soft cunt?” The thought of it makes my taste go sour. “He wouldn’t have cared if you said no or fought him off. I bet he has STDs too.” My lip curls. I have no idea if any of this is true, but it feels true enough.

Any man who isn’t me or my brothers is a threat to Celia’s wellbeing, and they’re fucking scum no matter what they do.

Celia shakes her head. “You’re wrong. The only man forcing himself on me is Rage.” A shiver runs down her body as she whispers a smalland you.

This is the closest I’ve come to Celia’s pussy—ever.I’m nearly offended at the insinuation that my hand buried between her velvet thighs isnormalfor us, but, well, not offended enough to care. I haven’t asked Rage what he does when he visits her in the mornings, but I would know if he were fucking her. He’d have this post-sex glow that’s impossible to ignore by the sheer fucking magnitude of his ego. But I might as well ask—“has he fucked you, Celia?”

She squirms in my arms. “Not since that first night, no.”

Ah,she means the first time she came toMidnight.She wanted all three of us then—a drastic change to her attitude now. It’s like she got her first taste and decided we weren’t what she wanted after all. But that’s too fucking bad, because she made addicts out of the three of us. We can’t go back.

Neither can she.

Even if she denies it, I’ve seen the way she looks at me, like she’s one second away from jumping my bones. I like to think that it’s because of my charm and sex appeal, but I’d be an idiot to discount my brothers’ hands in her desire.Literally.If they’re getting her off without shoving their dicks inside of her, it’s no wonder the girl is cock-starved.

But if she had tried to fuck any one of us, we would have let her. So why the hell did she approach someone at the club instead?

“You know thatthis—” I dig my boner into her ass—“is all yours, baby. Why go after someone else?” I glare at the sack of meat on the floor. He wouldn’t get her off before himself, that’s for damn sure. It’s like Celia was trying to piss us off?—

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