Page 6 of Claimed (The Captain’s Captive #2)

Carrying Trish was a good way to let everyone know Jordan was off duty. Anyone approaching him now had better have a real emergency at hand.

That didn’t stop Trish from bombarding him with questions as soon as they were out of the main room.

He was always amused by the cautious tone in her voice whenever she questioned him.

Not that he’d ever tried to stop her from doing so, but she was a cautious thing.

Thoughtful. Careful. A planner—like him in a lot of ways.

It pleased him. Jordan would have hated to have had to punish her as harshly as Margolis would be dealing with Bella.

When Trish had turned away from the passageway in his room, he’d been relieved she hadn’t felt desperate enough to take the first opportunity of escape, and pleased at her intelligence in waiting, so he’d included a reward in her punishment, which had been much more enjoyable to him, as well.

Harsh punishments put him in mind of the old lord.

Drufs.

He’d insisted everyone call him by his title, not by his name.

Anyone overheard using anything but ‘Lord’ was made an example of.

Harshly. Jordan still had scars from the whipping, and he’d gotten off lightly because of who he was.

Most who’d made the mistake of disrespecting the old lord in some way often hadn’t lived through their punishments.

Females usually had, although they’d probably wished they hadn’t since, after their whipping, they’d been given over to the lord’s men for use until they did die.

“Are you going to take my memory?” Trish’s quiet voice broke off his thoughts. Her head was practically resting on his shoulder as they moved down the hall, making it easy for him to hear her despite the noise from the others around them.

“No,” he said.

“Why not?”

“You don’t need it taken.”

“You don’t care if I know about the passageways?” She sounded confused and a little perturbed.

“No.”

Trish fell silent for a long moment. “Is it because I won’t know my way around them?”

“Partly. I will show you some paths later.”

“Are any of them going to lead to the outside?” There was the tiniest tinge of … not amusement, but almost teasing in her voice. She wasn’t being sarcastic exactly, but she wasn’t being serious, either, because she didn’t expect him to say yes.

Jordan grinned. She was joking with him. Kind of.

He liked it.

“No,” he answered honestly.

She made a disgusted noise. It was very cute.

“The Moon uses the drug on the people the Wolf returns, doesn’t it?” she asked quietly. It didn’t surprise Jordan that she’d come to the correct conclusion despite only receiving partial information. Her quick mind was one of the things he liked about her.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“You tell me.”

She had until they reached their room, which wasn’t long, because once he got her there, Jordan fully intended to enjoy himself. She could always ask more questions later, and he knew she would.

Trish leaned against him, the way she often did when she thought. He liked that she did it without thinking now.

“There are things that we learn down here that the Moon officials don’t want anyone to know,” she guessed.

Jordan stayed silent but didn’t deny it.

“They’re afraid of losing their power … but it doesn’t matter because they’re doing so anyway.

I just don’t understand why you’re so determined that someone remember.

You don’t need Alex and Bella or the others to take power back from the Moon. You could do it right now.”

She was confused because it didn’t make obvious tactical sense.

But the Wolf was adamant that not everyone on the Moon was an enemy and that they could be useful if their energies and minds were used productively.

They were spoiled and sheltered, but the Wolf didn’t like to waste.

Especially since an attack on the Moon would result in a great loss of life for those on Earth, as well, and possibly more devastation to the planet.

The Wolf preferred the Moon tear itself apart from the inside.

At least, that was how he’d phrased it to Jordan.

Figuring out people’s motivations, actions, and reactions was not Jordan’s forte.

He looked at battles and how to win them.

His upbringing had left him socially stunted on a planet where social interactions were already fucked up—at least that was what Zadia had told him, and he trusted her to know.

Soldiers followed him because he could pound any of them into the ground, and they believed in his ability to win.

They followed Zadia because they liked her and respected her tactical acumen.

They followed the Wolf because of a combination of both.

Jordan didn’t care if they followed him because of their fear; Zadia said he would be more effective if they liked him as well, but Jordan didn’t care about being liked.

Except with Trish.

But she was starting to like him. She no longer protested whenever he wanted to cuddle her or set her on his lap.

She looked to Jordan for protection when she was anxious or fearful, and no longer watched him warily when they were in the same room.

She trusted that he wouldn’t hurt her unless she did something naughty, and she did her best to behave—other than telling Bella about the passageways, but even that hadn’t changed how she acted around him.

It must be a good sign. Cues like that were important. Marek had explained how to keep a woman.

Establish boundaries and don’t stray from them, keep her safe, talk to her, and pleasure her as much as she can handle.

Trish’s punishment for giving Bella information about the passageways had been part of establishing new boundaries.

She already knew all the usual ones that guided their day-to-day life.

Now Jordan was going back to pleasuring her as much as she could handle.

Really, as much as he could handle—and he could handle a lot.

“Why didn’t you tell me not to tell Bella about the passageways?” Something about the whole situation had been niggling at Trish, and she’d finally figured out what it was.

“Would you have listened?” Jordan sounded genuinely curious, not sarcastic, which didn’t surprise her.

Jordan didn’t bother with sarcasm, for the most part.

Questions, however … He seemed to have as many about her as she had about him, although his questions were always about the mundane parts of her life—really not that interesting, at all.

“I don’t know,” she admitted.

Jordan gave a short nod and turned down the hallway that led to their room. “The Wolf hoped you would tell Bella.”

The answer took Trish’s breath away. It took her a moment to realize she was angry. Like, really, really angry. “You mean you purposefully showed them to me so that I would tell Bella, and then punished me for telling Bella?!”

The door to their room slid open, and the side of Jordan’s mouth kicked up into half a smile. “If you hadn’t told her, we would have found another way.”

In other words, it was her own darn fault Trish had been punished. Even though she’d been set up.

If her butt wasn’t already so tender, she might have hit him. As it was, she curled her hands into fists and did her best to keep from reaching out and smacking his chest. Or his face.

She’d inadvertently helped but had still been punished.

Big jerk.

His chest vibrated, and it took Trish a moment to realize he was chuckling.

“You sound like you’re growling,” he said, amused.

Trish felt like growling. And then slapping him.

When he tossed her on the bed and then climbed up after her, his intent clear by the light in his hungry eyes, Trish hit her limit.

“No!” She shoved at his shoulders, attempting to push him away—not that it did any good. Jordan’s muscular frame didn’t budge. “I am not having sex with you right now!”

She squealed with outrage as his weight came down on top of her, pinning her to the bed, and his hands grabbed hers and pushed them up above her head.

Neither his amusement nor his arousal had dimmed in the least in the face of her unusual outburst. Chuckles still rumbled through his chest, and his cock was rock-hard and pressing into the softness between her legs.

“My babygirl is angry,” Jordan said, as though it were the most adorable thing in the world.

Trish wanted to scream her frustration, but it wouldn’t get the reaction she wanted, and, if he acted like it was cute, she really might explode.

She bucked, which, other than rocking her body against his erection, didn’t help.

It especially didn’t help her own reactions.

Trish hated to admit it, but she couldn’t ignore that her nipples had hardened into little points and her pussy was becoming slick with arousal from having Jordan on top of her—which made her even more angry.

“I’ll make it up to you, babygirl,” he said, still chuckling, as he ran his lips over the length of her neck.

“No!” Trish said again, sounding like a pouty little girl, hating herself for it but unable to find a way to sound more adult, more firm.

Leather wrapped around her wrists, and, this time, she did vent a scream of frustration, and then tried to kick Jordan when he laughed and knelt back.

He easily caught her ankles and pinned one down with his leg while he wrapped a cuff around the other and then cuffed her last limb, leaving her secured, vulnerable, aroused, and pissed off.

“Noooooooooo! You bastard!” Trish thrashed against her bonds. “Let me go, let me go, let me go!”

That was how long it took Jordan to produce a gag from his pocket and push it between her teeth. Trish bit down on the soft rubber in a perfect fury, calling him all sorts of names that were muffled and distorted by the rubber as he secured the strap behind her head.

Jordan bopped her on the tip of her nose with his finger, making her scream again.