But a few minor victories served only to inflate the smaller feral with overconfidence.
He got too close. Stepped inside his opponent’s ridiculous reach and paid for it by taking an absolutely brutal swipe of claws to his face. Bellowing, the smaller male turned toward the watching pack. Showing them all the horrific damage wrought with one well-timed blow—one that only echoed the horrific scars marking the Alpha’s once-handsome visage.
Because they were much,muchworse than anything Sickle had ever seen.
Both eyes were obliterated, the left hanging loose on a bit of bloody cord. The right nothing more than a white smear spread over the ridge of lacerations that went clean through bone. Not quite a death blow, if the feral could survive without sight. If his gruesome wounds miraculously avoided infection.
Howling and victorious, the larger male launched a lazy attack. Jaws clamping shut about the other’s wrist, he twisted his head and shattered the bones until they burst through the muscle. Gleaming in the dying light.
Sickle’s mouth flooded with acid as the horde turned hungry eyes down, on one of their own who’d dared to show a glimpse of weakness.
Yipping and howling, they descended. The one who’d dealt a mortal blow the first to dine on living flesh, these ferals ate before they killed.
Horrified, Sickle couldn’t look away, having only heard of such an atrocity whispered about in the darkest corners of the court gossip.
And it was with bile searing the back of his throat that Sickle watched as the ferals spread the legs of the incapacitated male. Some standing on his limbs, they worked together to ruin the fallen creature. Genitals first, a savage injury was dealt. Spilled blood visible even from this distance as the beasts roared in triumph. As the victor plunged a clawed fist into that gaping orifice and pulled slippery ropes of intestines free.
A mortal wound, and one that left the fallen male crawling to the banks of the river on his belly. Dragging the ropey ends of his guts through the mud and filth.
Sickle turned away, having already seen too much.
Having heard far more than he’d ever needed to hear.
“Filthy fucking savages,” the Alpha hissed, his mane fully risen about him in a pale halo. Vibrating with disgust.
“Better they’re down there eating each other,” Balkazar rumbled, still watching. His face impassive even as the sounds of ripping meat echoed up from the ravine.
Silence descended upon their small pack. The only communication a fleeting glance of their eyes, and Sickle knew they were all thinking the same thing. About a certain female going into heat.
The reckless net she’d cast throughout the entire forest.
If she was unfortunate enough to get herself caught by a feral…
Well.
There would be no saving what was left.
Even if she was lucky and was taken by a feral whose lust outweighed his gluttony, she’d fall to the virus and find herself beneath the rutting hips of an entire hoard. Just another statistic no one would ever think to record.
Fingers clenching about the handle of his blade, Sickle flashed his teeth in the gloom. His cock swelled, a throbbing ache tied down and restrained behind his leathers, consumed as he was by her scent. Her slick.
“Let’s go,” he whispered, ears pressed flat, pointed teeth flashing in the shadows. “It’s not safe for her to be alone. We have to find her. Before—”
A thick hand landed on his shoulder. The Alpha squeezed Sickle’s narrow shoulder in a silent offer of comfort. “The Nine didn’t send her to us just to take her away so soon,” he said. “Not even they could be so cruel.”
Nodding, Sickle clung to that fragile hope, falling into step when the pack moved out. On the hunt, once more.
Deep down, though, he knew—there were no gods in the beyond.
Only demons who ate without bothering to kill.
Chapter 13
Heads low, the pack ran as one. Their senses saturated with the distinct and rare bouquet of slick, focused entirely on the elusive scent of breeding female where it hung heavy in the air.
The Alpha grinned, taking up the rear as he kept pace behind his pack. Pleased at how easily they meshed as a unit, all castes working together to catch their little runaway. It would be a nuisance to train her, to break her in and teach her what it was to belong to a prince’s harem. But perhaps Balkazar could be tempted to take on the chore? The Alpha had never been fond of teary virgins, and the war chief had earned a reward. The chance to mold her tight slit to his knot.
She’d been running, that much the Alpha knew for certain. It was the undeniable taste of adrenaline laced through the trees, married to her scent. In the way her footprints had lengthened when they were visible in the fluffy loam lining the forest floor.
