“You want half?”
She blinked, peering through the gloom to identify the speaker.
Two large Anhur males sat side by side, tending a cooking fire. Sharing something roasted on a spit, the one on the left set his teeth to a hank of meat as the other chewed. Mechanical. Precise. The muscle in his jaw bulging with every clench of his teeth. His profile defined and rugged. Jaw sharp, if rough with stubble. His face too washed out by the firelight to determine eye color as anything beyond ‘pale’.
“We’re running low on meat,” he said, and she scowled. Pulling her eyes away from the subtle hints of masculinity. Annoyed that it took so little to make her gush and squirm, that she was aroused by watching them eat.
“I’ll send Keever and Micah out tomorrow,” said the other, this one almost as large as Hadim himself, his back to her. The Alpha of this small pack, presumably—she recognized the edge of authority when it rumbled through his vocal cords. “And Sickle?”
“Still in bed,” came the gruff reply. “Sulking, far as I can tell.”
The Alpha snorted and tossed his scraps into the fire—she saw the sparks leap. “Vain little thing, isn’t he?”
“Pathetic,” the second sneered, hackles bristling in profile. “Even the hybrids are bitching about it, as if none of us know what it is to be docked.”
This was a pack of unmated Anhur and hybrid males, then. Apparently new to life in the beyond.
Her stump gave a sympathetic twinge in remembrance, the phantom of that beloved fifth limb tucking between her thighs as if she could protect it after all this time.
“I’ll have a chat with him,” the Alpha said, and stood, his face obscured from where she skulked. He clapped his hands against his backside. A backside that was thick with muscle she couldn’t help but watch until it disappeared into the camp’s only tent. And even though the absence of his tail made her heart sink, she knew it would be held high. In the manner of all dominant Anhur, no matter their gender.
She needed to leave. One Anhur was an insane risk—but two,plusa handful of hybrid males?
They’d force her submission in an instant, all her planning would go to rot.
No, what she needed was a lone hybrid. Asterilehybrid male who was bigger than an Anhur.
Even if they didn’t have the most potent sperm or… or the biggest knot. A Beta was safe.
She swallowed, clenching her thighs together, spine tingling with the threat of an unprovoked orgasm. One she fought, for to get caught now, without a plan, was to become a slave to these unknown males.
When next she could focus her attention on the camp, the Alpha had already returned and reclaimed his seat. His back to her once more—at his side, a slenderHathorianmale.
Sucking in a breath, she lurched forward. Ears pressed flat to her skull, hood slipping back to reveal her face, the stench of fear began to seep through her camouflage.
An elegant little blond, all slim lines and soft edges. His ears left intact, the graceful shells flickering back and forth. Tipped in a golden sheen, the hair within was kept trim and soft. Groomed.
But if the mussed hair, smudged kohl, and bleary gaze was any indication, he didn’t appear to be adapting to life in the beyond very well.
Or he was being abused by this pack.
Tortured…raped.
Hathorian males were almost as rarely seen as the females.
They were pets. Traded amongst Anhur queens and trained to please in all ways. Aesthetic perfection, they bore the whims of their mistresses. Decorated in piercings and swirling tattoos, each trendier than the last.
This delicate creature was the first she’d ever seen.
“I’m not hungry,” he said, a lilting symphony of soft tones edged with an alluring hint of something gruff. Or perhaps his voice was merely strained, as if he’d invested a lot of time in noisy weeping.
“Eat it anyway,” the Alpha said and passed him the last portion of roasted meat, his voice heavy with a wisp of familiarity that made her shudder.
The command, perhaps. Or the tone. Whatever it was, it made the born submissive inside her shiver and present. Losing focus long enough to make her spine flex where she would have lifted her tail in desperate, sordid invitation.
Oblivious to the female in need, the Alpha continued to press his command. Unyielding, until the dainty male huffed, accepting with a graceless pout. “We’re packing up in the morning, Sickle,” the Alpha continued, voice laden with gentle reprimand. “You need to keep your strength up.”
Shoulders slumping, Sickle nodded. Utterly defeated even as he began to chew, taking tiny bites. But though Sickle’s posture was meek, he didn’t flinch when the Alpha clapped his shoulder—he offered a weak smile that still managed to make her heart flutter with giddy excitement.
