He was intact. A tail held in an arrogant arch that broadcast an uncompromising dominance—the sort she knew all too well. Stiff and inflexible, an aching reminder of what she herself had lost, it was evidence that this male was not like the others. For if he’d never been docked, then surely it followed that he’d never known the injustice of the Silver City? Never been marked as unfit for civilized life, or evicted from it.
He’d beenbornferal.
No better than a wild animal driven by base instinct.
To eat… sleep… breed…
Scrambling, she came upon a fork in the tunnel and tucked herself into a crevice. Deep as she could go. Knees to chin, naked back set flush against rough limestone. Ears flat, anxious sweat greasing her nape. And her nub—that painful memento of her stolen Hathorian identity pressed against a jagged bit of stone—sent a flare of phantom pain rocketing through her spine.
But she dared not move. Not here, where the sounds of a terrible battle echoed all around her. Coming from everywhere and nowhere all at once, she was unable to locate a source. Unable to see past the shadows swallowing her whole.
Instead, Renegade keened high at the back of her throat and hunkered in to wait.
For the next blow.
For rescue…
… for death…
She shivered, tears tracking unchecked over grimy cheeks.
Panting through parted lips, the acidity of stale reptiles left a thick, oily tang on the back of her tongue. One that saw her lips drawn back, blunt teeth flashing in helpless disgust.
But after she’d stopped, she found she couldn’t move another muscle. That she was frozen. Sat pinned to detritus reeking of dried shit, sloughed skins, and what must have been a rather large larder of cached meat rotting away somewhere in the tunnels.
More than enough foronegiant lizard, she’d found herself in what must have been a nest.
Jaw clamped shut around a high anxious squeal, Renegade submitted to the dark. Not so much as daring to blink for fear that she might be overheard, that she might be found trespassing and punished. Her flesh pulped between horrible teeth. Melted from her bones while she screamed, begging the Nine for mercy that wouldn’t come.
Not here, in the beyond.
Not for a nameless Hathorian breeder, whose gods had been defeated millennia before her birth. Their names forever lost.
Muscles locked, Renegade stared into the inky gloom. Her eyeballs going dry, itching with the sulfurous fumes. Sitting so still that she could hear her spine creak with every flutter of a frenetic pulse. Straining to hearanything.
If only so she might see it coming.
There was no knowing how long she sat there, petrified against the stone. How long she labored for any minuscule hint how the battle had gone. If that feral Anhur was coming for her, even now… Amber eyes fixed to her in a way that no other creature hadeverlooked at her before. As if nothing else in existence held any consequence. His confidence absolute. His ownership of her body and mind a right that wouldn’t be ignored.
The sound of lurking shadows made her jump, heels planted against loose shale and unspeakable filth. Ready to bolt, though it mightn’t do a shred of good.
A body scraped against the tunnel walls, one that moved in measured steps. Pausing between every step forward.
It was something big, trying to be small.
She could tell by the way the air grew heavy. Oppressive and thick. Evidenced by the subtle darkening of tunnels already painted in pitch. It prowled closer, her imagination showing her the smooth roll of hips, shoulders that remained tucked. A head that didn’t move when there was prey to be had.
But it was too late to run. She was trapped. Unable to bolt, Renegade could do little but sit. Her breath stuttering to a halt, ears ringing with the whine of tiny muscles fighting to remain utterly motionless. Pulse thready and uneven as her lungs began to scream for relief she couldn’t afford, but couldn’t deny.
She took a breath.
A familiar scent struck her behind the sinuses, one that had her weeping relief as she lunged from her perch.
“Balkazar!” she whispered, trembling touch seeking the war chief in the gloom. Fingers traced his shoulder, the back of his neck, before winding deep into his mane. Her touch bound up at the base of his skull, she clung to a male she’d snubbed. Shameless in her need for aid. “Help me,” she breathed, and crawled between his arms. Sat in the gap between is knees, where he was braced against the tunnel wall. Still.
For a moment, he did nothing but huff against her nape. Taking in deep breaths against her skin and hair, reacquainting himself with the Hathorian bouquet with which he’d grown so intimate only the night prior. Now tainted with the stink of feral seed.
“Please.” She pressed her cheek against his throat. And tucking closer, ears flicked back, she stole a glance over her shoulder. Seeing nothing through the gloom. “We have to go, there’s—”
