The thought saw his hackles rise with scarcely restrained glee.
It was how the ruling Anhur preferred their breeding Hathorians—desperate to be knotted, tolerant to lengthy periods of neglect, and utterly ignorant of their own bodies. Oblivious of their history or what they were built to endure.
He squinted at her face, searching for recognition beneath the hanks of sopping hair. The flushed cheeks.
Instead, his one-eyed gaze was drawn to the bruised globes of a tight female ass, at the scar where her tail had once been and where Micah couldn’t keep her full. Where she leaked and gushed and went unsatisfied around a knot that hadn’t a chance of subduing her.
Only he could give her what she truly needed. What he’d given countless others just like her.
Relief.
Enough compression on her inflamed glands to milk them until they were empty. To release the built-up chemicals that would trigger her eggs to drop and allow him to seed the wily little bitch.
He’d been denied long enough. Forced to watch as she’d been pumped full, the Alpha bellowed. Shredding the ropes and his palms, both.
The netting snapped beneath the makeshift blade, exposing the hanging Anhur to a void. A sharp drop and a dull thud.
Gasping, the Alpha was up first, fighting free of the net, he landed a few savage strikes to the back of Balkazar’s skull. Not stopping until the war chief was limp. Giving himself the advantage, he left Balkazar laying in the netting. Out cold, yet still twitching toward the female.
Frozen where she’d stopped, she watched his approach with wide, dark eyes.
And despite the urge to rush toward her, he slowed. Enthralled.
There was challenge in her glare, even now. A note of defiance, no matter that she hadn’t a hope of escaping.
Not now.
Not ever.
A dainty pink tongue darted out, wetting. Tasting. Lingering on the bow of her lower lip, even as she made to scramble back.
Rumbling deep in his chest, the Alpha’s hand went to his pant front. The laces torn in haste.
He’d watched her take the lesser males, one by one. He’d watched as she allowed each of them to spill within her and knot. He’d watched Micah pour sperm down her throat and send her deeper into the hazehewanted to inspire.
And yet, she refused him? Deliberately ignored his orders. His commands to be set free so he could ease her pain.
He’d never known an Omega to deny her caste. To fight what she’d been born to do—and while in the thrall of a natural season, no less.
It was a wonder.
A rarity.
Refusing to submit could only mean the little bitchwantedto be conquered. That she was testing him to see if he were worthy of filling her womb. Of claiming her as he might a natural queen.
Forever.
Commanding without words, the Alpha snarled. Hackles rising and on full display, his chest rumbled with a deep compulsion to obey. Taking his time in the approach instead of succumbing to the instinct to throw her down in the dirt and fuck her pregnant.
“Please,” she whispered, cringing back from a display that should have seen her melt and submit. Oh, she presented her back, all right. But it wasn’t to be mounted—the little bitch began to crawl in the opposite direction.
Nostrils flared, the Alpha kicked at her ankles just to watch her cunt gape. “Enough of this, Omega,” he spat, words bumping over the edges of his furious snarl. “You can’t escape. There’s nowhere you can go that I won’t find you now.”
She twisted, terror etched into pale Hathorian features.
“Oh, yes,” he breathed and pumped his fist over his length. “You’re mine.”
A strained sound splintered through her lips. Great, fat tears spilling over dark lashes.
