Outlaw Lovers: The Claiming

by Jan Springer

  THE CLAIMING

  An Ellora’s Cave Publication, November 2004

  Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.

  1337 Commerce Drive, #13

  Stow, OH 44224

  ISBN MS Reader (LIT) ISBN # 1-4199-0062-5

  Other available formats (no ISBNs are assigned):

  Adobe (PDF), Rocketbook (RB), Mobipocket (PRC) & HTML

  THE CLAIMING © 2004 JAN SPRINGER

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part without permission.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. They are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.

  Edited by Mary Moran.

  Cover art by Syneca.

  Warning:

  The following material contains graphic sexual content meant for mature readers. The Claiming has been rated E–rotic by a minimum of three independent reviewers.

  Ellora’s Cave Publishing offers three levels of Romantica™ reading entertainment: S (S-ensuous), E (E-rotic), and X (X-treme).

  S-ensuous love scenes are explicit and leave nothing to the imagination.

  E-rotic love scenes are explicit, leave nothing to the imagination, and are high in volume per the overall word count. In addition, some E-rated titles might contain fantasy material that some readers find objectionable, such as bondage, submission, same sex encounters, forced seductions, and so forth. E-rated titles are the most graphic titles we carry; it is common, for instance, for an author to use words such as “fucking”, “cock”, “pussy”, and such within their work of literature.

  X-treme titles differ from E-rated titles only in plot premise and storyline execution. Unlike E-rated titles, stories designated with the letter X tend to contain controversial subject matter not for the faint of heart.

  Outlaw Lovers:

  The Claiming

  Jan Springer

  For Mary Moran—a wonderful editor and a great friend. Thanks for all your support.

  Prologue

  Barlow Ranch—Maine, USA—August 14, 2020

  The scent of sex hung heavy in the air as Luke Outlaw pushed the bedroom door open and stared in shock at the scene in front of him.

  They were all naked.

  Three Barlow brothers.

  And one very familiar woman.

  Her long blonde curls were spread out on the black satin pillow like a golden waterfall, her eyes closed tightly in apparent erotic bliss.

  He couldn’t believe it was her.

  The woman who’d sworn to love his brother Tyler for all eternity was having sex with his brother’s worst enemies.

  Never mind that she thought Tyler was dead.

  It was no excuse to sell her body to these devils.

  Yet here she was lying on a double king-sized bed, her naked body splayed out on black satin sheets, her wrists and ankles tied securely with long velvet straps that led to wooden bedposts shaped like a woman’s breasts.

  Moans of pleasure and slurping sounds drifted through the air as Clay, the youngest of the Barlow brothers, had his blond head buried between her legs, his long tongue eagerly lapping up her pleasure juices. Another Barlow tended to a swollen breast, massaging one full globe while actively sucking on a plump red nipple as if it were a lollipop.

  A third Barlow, his plump lips twisted with pleasure, kneeled on the bed near her flushed face, his short cock plunging in and out of her eager mouth.

  He knew the Barlow brothers had claimed a willing woman.

  But this one?

  By God, how could this be possible?

  How could she betray his brother?

  How could she volunteer to service the four Barlow brothers? And seemingly enjoy doing it?

  Luke’s stomach twisted with sudden anxiety.

  Wait a minute. There were only three men here.

  Where was the other one?

  The tiny hairs on the back of his neck prickled a warning a split second before he heard the sharp sound of a gun cock.

  Oh, shit!

  Before he could so much as move, a gunshot seared through the air. Something hard and painful slammed through his shoulder spinning him around and tossing him into the bedroom.

  He hit the plush white carpet hard, pain biting into him like a hot poker, bringing with it a thick black wave of nausea.

  From somewhere far off he heard her scream. Heard the Barlows’ shouts of surprise and anger.

  He didn’t know how long he lay there fighting the black waves threatening to engulf him before her concerned face hovered into view.

  Gosh she looked quite pretty when she got upset, a cute little worried wrinkle nestled between her perfectly arched eyebrows. He could understand why his brother Tyler had fallen in love with her.

  “Luke? Oh, my God! You shot Luke Outlaw!”

  “What the hell is an Outlaw doing here?” one of the Barlows snapped angrily from behind her.

  “Kill the bastard!” another snarled.

  Shit!

  He needed to tell her the truth. Needed to tell her she didn’t have to be a sex slave to the Barlows. He needed to tell her that Tyler wasn’t dead.

  He had to tell her the truth before he died.

  “Get me something to press over his wound!” she yelled at the brothers.

  The words formed in his brain but when he opened his mouth excruciating pain sliced into him as she pressed something against both sides of his shoulder.

  Oh man, this felt bad. Real bad.

  The black waves swooped in for the kill, suffocating him, preventing him from telling her the truth.

  He fought them. Truly he did.

  But they were too powerful, slamming into him from all directions.

  He had no choice but to give up the fight.

  Promptly, he passed out.

  Chapter One

  Outlaw Farm—North Section, Maine, USA—August 15, 2020

  Callie Callahan had just finished rinsing her dinner dishes when an odd sound split the silence of the rustic one-room cabin she was hiding in.

  Over the last several weeks since she’d escaped the government research labs she’d trained herself not to panic at every little noise but that didn’t stop the icy shiver of fear from slicing up her spine this time.

  Taking no chances, she doused her candle plunging the room into semidarkness. Pulling the gun out of the waistband of her jeans where she always kept it, she slid her lean frame against the wall and peeked out the only window that wasn’t boarded up.

  Scanning the dusky shadows, her heart thundered against her chest.

  Nothing moved out there in the dense Maine woods.

  Yet, every cell in her body screamed danger lurked nearby.

  Her finger tightened on the trigger.

  Recent events with the newly introduced Claiming Law had her nerves on edge. Simply because the law said that a group of men could capture themselves a woman, videotape a sexual consummation and then lay a claim on her as their personal property, didn’t mean she was eager to be found, fucked and claimed by anyone who discovered her hiding place.

  Not only did she have to be on the lookout for horny men, she was also on the government laboratories “most wanted” list for being one of the few remaining women who was naturally resistant to the X-virus.

  Only one man knew she was here and he’d sworn he’d never come unless it was their prearranged appointed meeting especially after she’d warned him she was on a shoot-to-kill and ask questions later schedule. It was the only way she could keep herself from being caught by the government scientists or claimed.

  If someone was lurking around out there, he or th
ey were walking dead men because she wasn’t losing her freedom without one heck of a fight.

  The silence rattled her and she moved the gun closer to the window turning her head to scan the interior of the cabin. From this vantage point, she had a visual of each boarded-up window plus the front and back doors.

  If anyone came through anywhere, she’d plug him full of bullets.

  An ear-shattering crash from right beside her made her jump in surprise as the window disintegrated. Numbed by the sudden attack she watched helplessly as an arm reached inside and snatched the gun right out of her fingers.

  Oh, my God!

  They’re here!

  All the calm she’d so carefully gathered over the past few weeks untangled in one fell swoop turning her into a bundle of helpless nerves.

  What should she do?

  She stared at the front door.

  No! She couldn’t go that way. They would expect her to go out one of the doors.

  For a split second, she considered breaking the glass on a back window and pushing away the boards then diving through, but that would take too long.

  A second later the back door burst inward with a deafening crash. In the darkness she made out the forms of two men standing side-by-side effectively blocking her escape route.

  Blocking her bid for freedom.

  Sheer terror made her sob in frustration.

  They’d found her! They’d force themselves on her now. Claim her as their sexual property.

  Virgins were always placed with the group of men who first took them.

  A rage of defiance sifted through her.

  She hadn’t saved herself all these years for one special man just so a pack of strangers would lay claim to her. She’d die before she let that happen.

  Her gaze flew to the butcher knife on the counter. She could sink it into her heart with one swift plunge…

  “Callie. Don’t be scared,” one of the men who stood in the doorway said. Immediately she recognized his voice.

  Sweet Pete, it was the preacher. The only man she’d allowed herself to have contact with since she’d escaped, her one link to the outside world.

  The one who’d promised never to come here unless it was their scheduled meeting time.

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake!” she yelled at his shadowy figure. “What the hell are you doing here? You scared the crap out of me!”

  Sweet mercy! She was actually safe!

  And she was boiling mad, too.

  “You’re not supposed to come ‘til next week. What’s the matter with you? Why’d you break the window?”

  “I didn’t.” The preacher pointed to the newcomer. “He did.”

  He?

  She cast her gaze to the tall figure who stood beside the preacher.

  He looked so heart-stoppingly familiar she almost forgot to breathe.

  It was him.

  She knew it in the elegant way he held himself. Knew it, even though his features were shadowed, that his hair would be a wavy brown with golden highlights, his eyes would be a dark chocolate and he’d have the cutest laughter crinkles at the sides of his sensually shaped mouth.

  Despite that fact, her mind refused to admit he’d found her.

  Could God be so cruel? Could he have brought Luke Outlaw, the man she loved with her entire being, back into her life?

  “Callie? Is that really you?” The sound of his tortured whisper made her cry out in shock.

  It was him!

  “He’s been shot,” the preacher said quickly. “He tricked me into bringing him here. And he’s drunk. He polished off a bottle of whiskey in the car. Purely medicinal purposes, of course.”

  Luke hiccupped and scowled at the preacher. “You’re a goddamn son of a bitch for not telling me she’s been living right here on Outlaw land and right under my nose.”

  He gave the preacher a rough shove into the cabin.

  Then he stepped inside, closing and bolting the door behind him.

  That’s when she noticed the guns he carried in each hand.

  One was aimed at the preacher.

  One pointed at her.

  Oh, my gosh!

  “You are supposed to be dead,” his voice echoed in the semidarkness as he waved one of the guns at her. “Or, at the very least, some crazed guinea pig hooked up to some government’s experimental lab so they can figure out why you never got the X-virus.” Hiccup. “Yet, here you are…hiding in what would have been our…home,” he frowned. “And as healthy, and prettier than I remember you…” Hiccup. “As if you never even left. As if you’d never been taken away all those years ago. As if you’re a dream.”

  Callie’s lungs tightened and concern rushed her senses. The preacher had said Luke had been shot. How serious was the injury? It couldn’t be that bad if he was still standing, could it?

  He swayed dangerously, his eyes narrowing with anger.

  “Are you a dream, Callie?”

  “Luke, please sit down before you fall.” She stepped toward him and froze as Luke shot a bullet into the ceiling.

  “Not so fast, honey.” He blinked rapidly as if trying to clear his vision. Perspiration peppered his forehead and pain etched the shadows of his face. In the darkness, she noticed a dark patch staining his white T-shirt in the area of his left shoulder.

  Blood.

  Anxiety for his health swarmed her.

  “How bad is he hurt?”

  “Bad enough,” the preacher said. “He mumbled something about the Barlows shooting him. Don’t know why, but the bullet went clean through his shoulder. The only medicine I had was painkillers. He wouldn’t take them. So I gave him a whiskey bottle that one of my parishioners gave me a long time ago.”

  “Even if you’re a dream,” Luke sang out waving the gun at her as if it were an admonishing finger, “you’re not getting away from me this time. Light some candles, woman. I want to get a good look at my fiancée.”

  Callie stiffened.

  It had always irritated her on the odd occasion when he’d tried to order her around. He was doing it now. And she was getting a touch pissed off.

  “Do as he says, Callie. Alcohol doesn’t seem to mix well with his mood. He might shoot off another round and there’s no telling where the next one might hit or if there’s someone out in the woods who might hear the commotion.”

  Callie nodded.

  The preacher was right. The last thing she needed was for anyone to hear gunshots out this way.

  Her hands trembled as she searched for the matchbox on the counter. It took her several attempts before she had a candle glowing. Setting it in the middle of the kitchen table, she turned around and found him now sitting on her bed and the buttery candle glow had chased away the shadows to his face.

  She almost wished he’d stayed in the darkness of the room.

  Maybe then her heart wouldn’t have tightened so hard at the sight of the rough stubble on his face, the strong column to his tanned throat, the wide shoulders and the strong chest muscles straining against his T-shirt.

  Sexual awareness glittered in his dark brown eyes as he stared at her in an intoxicating way that made heat spread through her pussy. She could literally feel the warm cream seeping past her plump folds to wet her panties.

  Sexual tension thickened the air around them.

  Callie swallowed tightly.

  “How…how bad are you wounded?” She admonished herself for the overwhelming concern she felt for a man she thought she’d forced out of her heart, and once again stepped toward him.

  “That’s far enough, Callie. Stop right there. Let me take a look at you.” The steely cold in his voice made her halt.

  She tried hard not to shiver at the erotic way his heated gaze roved along the fullness of her breasts as they pushed up against the tattered shirt she wore.

  “Very nice,” he whispered. “Very nice indeed.”

  She followed to where he was looking and noticed how her nipples were poking proudly against the thin material.


  Inhaling softly, she watched his eyes travel over her curvy breasts, down her belly to the area between her legs.

  Her pussy quivered with excitement against her tight jeans.

  Thank God, the preacher was behind her and he couldn’t see how she was responding to the scorching way Luke was looking at her.

  “I’ve come to claim you, Callie,” he said softly.

  Claim her?

  “That’s not possible, Mr. Outlaw.” The preacher echoed her thoughts. “I already told you that you can’t marry her—”

  “Shut up!” Luke’s eyes blazed fiercely but he kept his gaze fixed upon her. “I came here to marry her and I’m going to do it the old-fashioned way. Legal or not.”

  Callie’s heart thumped a mile a minute as she digested what Luke had just said.

  Marry her?

  Was he seriously demented?

  Delirious? Yes, he must be delirious.

  “Preacher man!” Luke snapped and waved the pistol in warning. “You marry Callie and me. Now!”

  “Luke… I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she said.

  “Callie, just stay there in the candlelight. God, you look so beautiful.”

  Her? Beautiful?

  She hadn’t run a comb through her short auburn tangles all day. Her shirt was covered in flour from making bread and she didn’t even have any makeup on.

  She resisted the urge to primp her hair into a more orderly fashion.

  Oh, heavens! Why did she even care what she looked like? She had no future with this man. All their dreams were gone. All because of the one mistake she’d made.

  Despite that fact, she couldn’t stop herself from blushing at his comment.

  He thought she was beautiful.

  The gun in his right hand suddenly lifted and Luke pointed it at the preacher’s head.

  In response, the preacher squealed in fright. “Good heavens! Please, Mr. Outlaw, don’t shoot me.”

  “Luke, you’re delirious,” Callie tried to keep her voice soft and steady. Inside, she trembled. If he was delirious, Luke just might be sick enough to shoot the man. “Put the guns down, please.”