Page 43 of Omega's Dream (The Hartwell Sisters Saga 4)

“Too honourable?” Puck let out an abrupt laugh. “I’ve an idea to force the knowledge from Jude.”

“Oh?”

“We get Jude to whip it out of you. He’s too soft to hurt you. And if he takes up the lash, then it can be considered part of his training.”

Jude knelt,uncertain and barefoot, in the centre of the room. Puck lounged on the wall and watched him as I stripped off my shirt.

“You’re scarred.” Jude’s pronouncement was harsh and angry. My lips twitched. Sweet pup didn’t like it. He would object to what he was asked to do next, but that was the genius of Puck’s plan.

“What? Didn’t you notice before? We come here to ask nicely, once again, for you to tell us where Polly and Tod are. The deal is this: you’ll whip me or you’ll tell me where Polly has gone with Tod.” Since he was still her loyal pet, he’d raise his hand and whip me. Reluctantly. Oh, so reluctantly.

His protest was a pained growl.

“No need to sound like that. A sound whipping shan’t hurt me. Rather, the pleasure shall send me to new heights. A euphoria, pup, like you cannot imagine.”

“I don’t like causing pain.”

“Pain is my pleasure.”

“No alpha would submit to another like this,” he protested. Though which of us he meant I could not guess, nor was there any point in discovering the answer.

“Oh, but Polly would gladly lash me. Don’t you agree, pup?”

“She is different.”

“Truer words were never spoken. Schatz, show my pup what to do.”

“Very well, pretty boy.” Puck pushed off the wall and collected a whip from the table. A bit of braided leather with half a dozen tails. “The skill is in the wrist. You can hurt him if you are not careful, but I would prefer Oberon to be whole and healthy.”

While he talked through the intricacies of the art, I turned my back on them, rolling my shoulders in preparation for the sweet sting.

“Hands behind your head, dearest.” Puck’s growled command shot straight to my cock. “Perfect. I’ll to the first few and pretty boy can do the others.”

The whistle and crack. A sharp bite. “Thank you.”

“See how he thanks me for this.”

I kept my eyes closed, picture the pair of them. Jude still on his knees unable to look away and desperate to deny how the sight of his greatest enemy worked him.

The same again, a little lower and over one of my older scars from a time long before I’d come to this country. It felt right that now if my skin blemished it was at my order.

“Come on, pretty boy. You give it a go.”

“No.”

“Then Polly’s whereabouts.”

“No.”

I kept my hands in place but turned around. Jude was on his feet, backing away from us. He looked afraid of his own desire for his cock pressed hard against his stained breeches.

“Another time, perhaps.” I lowered my arms. I pulled on my shirt and made a rough attempt to retie my cravat. No need to know it was a mess, so I tucked the ends into my shirt. Picking up my coat, I left, irrationally angry that things had played out as they had.

“Oberon.”

“Not now,” I snapped at Puck. “Take care of that… Take care of him. You’ve more patience than I.”

My feet led me to her room. The cage had been a whim, its gold bars an extravagance that had ended up suiting its former occupant. I pushed the window open and looked up and down. Logic said she had climbed down the drainpipe. Logic was a bastard for I should have considered the possibility and had bars put over it.

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