And hewasAnhur, despite his stature being nearly twice that of any hybrid Balkazar had ever known.
The entire forest had been brightened with the fumes of potent musk. Storied and rich. A subtle, unmistakable challenge magnified by his absurd size. Nothing like the grotesque mutants Balkazar had seen so much of since his banishment, the virus had made this male into something… new.
Something terrible and wondrous.
Worthy of begrudging envy.
It was then, as his nape was dappled with a different sort of sweat, that Balkazar spotted the insidious little whore who’d ensnared his prince so fully.
Renegade.
Cringing back from the male who fought with the very breath of the Nine to spare her, she’d been made small at the edge of a battle. Insignificant. A tiny blip of pale skin and inky hair, perfumed cunt dripping with powerful pheromones that had caught yet another noble male in that sticky trap.
Derision played at the edge of Balkazar’s lips, quirked against his teeth with a sneer that displayed every ounce of contempt he held for her pathetic species.
Forher.
Fragile. Paralyzed by inaction, she could do nothing but watch as a true warrior defended his claim.
A bold statement of ownership not even Sinadim himself had a hope of competing with.
Balkazar had never skulked a day in his life, but he was doing so now. Knowing himself outmatched, enthralled by the battle unfolding before him, he hung back and watched. Concealed by shadows. Clinging to the forest’s skirt as he’d never done to his own dam, eyes wide. Shocked still, for this mutant Anhur dared to clash with a fire-kin. A brooding female, no less. Standing between Sinadim’s bitch and certain death, he roared in the face of a creature already mortally wounded. Every inch of him bristling with possessive rage.
Acting the guardian to a disgraced breeder.
The war chief scoffed.
Further evidence to suggest those infected with Trax were scarcely more than mindless beasts. All that strength, his monstrous size and speed, utterly wasted on a mountain of muscle that didn’t know when to take and when to run, to whom strategy was nothing but a collection of meaningless syllables.
And to think such a male would risk his life for that trivial scrap of female flesh. High-quality pussy, certainly. The finest the war chief had ever tasted, butHathorianpussy nevertheless.
Ridiculous.
The feral male bellowed when a blow was struck, a premature victory trumpeted too soon.
But it was one that saw Balkazar’s hesitant caution shattered.
Taking advantage even as he cursed his prince for sending him on this task, the war chief skirted around the fighting duo. Head tucked, shoulders bunched, he sprinted across the barren field of pocked limestone. Ducking, his eyes flicking back in forth, searching for any hint that he’d been spotted. Marked for death by infected or predators.
The very air was held still with anticipation. Hungry eyes waiting for the fighting to end so they might scavenge a free meal.
He slipped around the backside of a rocky outcropping riddled with lava-kin tunnels. Belly scraping over stone, he went up and over, meaning to gain lofty advantage of the battlefield. He crept forward, peered over the grey edge of stone where he’d last seen Sinadim’s unruly little cunt.
But before he’d spotted her, an anguished sound rent the air. The lava-kin landing a devastating strike with the swipe of a heavy, inflexible tail. The war chief was made to watch, seething with disgust as the feral Anhur fell beneath the drake’s weight. Spewing volcanic spittle all over his torso.
A grisly ending for a female unworthy of such a sacrifice.
It was an unsurvivable mistake, surely.
One Balkazar would capitalize on, though it left him pained to do so. To abandon yet another male that might have been saved, who might have been added to their ranks if only they could have gotten to him soon enough. Before infection had turned him into a titan.
Dropping over the edge of the modest cliff, Balkazar landed on silent feet at the mouth of a tunnel.
Renegade was gone.
Only her enticing scent left clinging to the spot where she’d crouched.
Mane bristling, an indignant storm rising in his chest, Balkazar took a breath and caught the scent of cum and pussy. A scent that startled, for the owner of that dried cream was unmistakable. The truth of the hours Renegade had spent outside of Sinadim’s clutches made abundantly clear.
