It’s my turn to take a deep breath. Unexpectedly, actually hearing her speak the words has shredded the pity in my heart, and now I feel nothing but cold determination.
Sitting up, I turn to look at her fragile little face, then reach out and caress her soft cheek. I speak as slowly and deliberately as she just did. “I am Khan, the Wanderer King, ruler of Altrim, and I get what I want. All my life, I have searched for an Omega, and now I have found one. I have found a way to create more generations of Ulfarri Alphas and Omegas. I intend to begin that process with my mate. And nobody will stand in my way. Not even you.”
NINETEEN
Emma
I’ve losttrack of time. I no longer know how long I’ve been here for—one day blends into the next, then the next. And who knows whether Ulfarri days are the same length as Earth ones?
Something in Khan snapped when I told him outright of my unwillingness to have his babies. It was almost a tangible thing, a sharp pang I felt physically. It’s like there’s this invisible thread connecting us, and I can feel what he feels—not as acutely, but I can sense it. He calls itthe bond, and says he feels it too, and that we have it because we are soul mates. I hate it. My emotions are constantly muddied by his, somehow.
So when I said I don’t want children, ever, the sadness was so sharp I could almost taste it. I was taken aback. I thought my views had been clear from the get go. Just because the serum forces me into estrus and I crave sex with Khan like I need air to breathe, doesn’t mean I actively want the intended, ideal biological outcome. I just want the gnawing ache in my sex to be relieved.
He’s been different since then. More distant. Less solicitous. He still talks to me, fucks me, purrs for me… but it’s like an invisible wall has been erected. And I’ve been getting a lot more time to myself.
I spend most of it painting frantically, trying to quiet my mind, to get out of my own head. I paint Earth animals, birds, landscapes… but I don’t dare paint anyone I care about. Even though no news has reached us telling us of the creepy Stone King’s untimely demise, I don’t want to risk hurting anyone else. I guess that’s my own kind of superstition, since Deva has started painting every living creature they have on Ulfaria with childlike enthusiasm. The thought makes me smile. At least I’ve made somebody happy.
I’m putting the finishing touches to a picture of a hummingbird—as best I can remember it—when I sense Khan’s presence behind me. My nostrils flare as his smokey chocolate scent fills them, and there’s an instant liquid gush between my thighs.
Fuck. Being this turned on from his scent alone can only mean one thing: I’m back in estrus.
Without a word, without preamble, he shoves the hem of my dress up around my waist, bends me over, and slides his huge cock up inside me in one violent thrust.
He’s growling, and even though there was no foreplay, no warning, not even a kind word, my nipples stiffen into aching points against the flimsy material of my gown, and I suppress a moan as I’m stretched, forced to accommodate his considerable girth.
He winds my hair into a fist close to the base of my skull, making my back arch, and begins to fuck me with long, deliberate thrusts.
The tingling between my legs is already intense but I’m fighting it. I’ve accepted the way my body responds to him, the way it overrules my mind and will, and has done since the first day I met Khan, but he made it easier because he seemed to care about my pleasure. About me.
Now, he’s not even pretending anymore, and I’m furious. I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of coming. Of making a single sound. Of giving the slightest hint that I’m enjoying this. I can’t stop him from fucking me, especially when he’s in rut, but I can control my reaction to it.
I hope.
My body seems to have other ideas. Already that familiar sensation is tightening in my core, a sure sign that I’m close to coming. While I love forced—and denied—orgasms in BDSM play, this is entirely different. I bite my lower lip, hard, to distract myself.
Khan’s free hand reaches around and begins to tug my nipple through the sheer fabric of my dress.
I bite my lip harder as the pleasure shoots straight down from my breast to my groin.
Damn that fucking serum.
My last Dom used to love to deny me orgasms, keeping me on the brink for what felt like forever, threatening the worst punishments if I came without his express permission. Now I’m grateful for that practice, as I’m forced to use every bit of it.
It’s working, too, until I feel Khan’s warm breath on my ear and he growls a single word:
“Come.”
My pussy—traitorous bitch that she is—obeys instantly, whether it’s because of that weird thrall Khan has over me or because I’m a sexual submissive, I don’t know. I don’t really care. All that matters is that I’m exploding around his cock, coming so hard that it hurts—an exquisite, toe-curling ache—and I’m biting my lip almost all the way through in an attempt to hide my orgasm from the one who’s causing it.
Bastard.
The rhythmic snatching of my pussy around his cock sets Khan off, too, and I can’t hold back a yelp as his knot expands, locking me to him, ensuring I can’t go anywhere as he fills me to the brim with thick, hot cum.
Just like my slick, the quantities he produces with each climax should be a physical impossibility, regardless of whether he’s shooting it up inside me or covering me with it to mark me as his. It’s already leaking out from around the knot and dribbling down the insides of my thighs before he’s even stopped throbbing within me.
At length, the knot has softened enough that he can pull out. I hold my breath, wondering what he’ll do next.
“Emma.” His voice sends a shiver up my spine, and I don’t resist as he turns me to face him and draws me into his embrace. His thick arms encircle me, pressing me to his massive chest, and his breath whispers over the crown of my head.
