A mistake he’d be sure to prevent her from making ever again.
She paused to stretch, thinking herself safe. That her only concern was the pack of males she’d claimed and abandoned. Her pace, when she once again took up her flight, was nothing short of leisurely. A stroll in the morning that took her right past his hiding place. Offering him a chance to inhale the breath she left in her wake, tiny feet landing within striking distance of where he’d hunkered down. Oblivious to the threat as she meandered by.
It was then, as she traipsed between shafts of dappled sunlight, that he caught a glimpse of her face.
Elegant, high cheekbones. Her jaw a sharp slash that blended with ears left mercifully intact, her form was pleasing. High-bred, all refined lines and exquisite curves. And there, hidden beneath leather, her hips set in a gentle flare meant to cradle his young. Hips that would fit in one hand. Fragile enough to crack, sturdy enough to bend when the demand was issued.
Unblinking, he watched her slip into the gloom. The quiet rustle of a small creature trying to go unnoticed. But he’d seen what lay clutched between her fingers. The little bits of forest fluff and pretty rocks her kind were known to hoard, her eyes glassy. Pupils blown wide and unseeing as she wandered. Searching and snuffling for more.
A slave to instinct, she’d abandoned the safety of her pack, thinking her needs had been met. Thrown herself to the mercy of an unforgiving place rife with predators slavering for the kill.
Her season still ripe.
Drawing in another lung full of her delicious scent, he filled himself with fury.
An explosion of sound ripped free of his chest. Setting the forest alive with startled creatures both hungry and small. Sleeping and waiting. They all fled from the sounds of the hunter declaring a challenge. Only the scavengers remained, circling high above, they watched with beady eyes. Knowing that sound was might be followed by easy pickings.
The girl squealed, branches and twigs snapping as she bolted from the brush without a thought toward discretion. Flushed out, she fled like the prey she was. His every sense triggered for the hunt. The chase.
The reward of wearing her down and filling her up.
Strides long and lazy, he paced her through the gloom. Driving the scent of terrified female toward the edge of the forest, where the hunting was effortless and relaxed.
An open space, with nowhere to hide…
2
Sleep clung heavy and languid to Balkazar’s mind. The war chief resting comfortably,warmin a nest saturated with the scent of his prince, their pack, and a well-bred female. One they’d had together. One who’d mewled and begged, her mind utterly lost to her caste as she’d taken all they had to give.
Mindless little bitch had loved every second of it.
Enthralled to the gifts of her gender, she’d produced beautifully for her new masters. Her slick flowing in hearty abundance, just as it had been engineered to do. So she might entice the males born to rule her. Intoxicating them with every taste of the ambrosia flowing from between her legs. That this breeder was of the most cherished stock—worthy of Hadim himself, before he’d cast her out—came as no real surprise.
Balkazar had never sampled her equal, but then, he was no prince born to inherit luxury.
Drunk on slick, depleted in the most satisfying way, the war chief had slept easily for the first time since they’d been exiled, docked, and mutilated. Slept and woken to the sounds of Sinadim taking her again in the small hours where darkness reigned. The prince’s fingers wound tight in silken black hair as he pressed her into a nest she’d refused to build herself. Demanding to be submitted, despite the way she’d opened for them.
Resisting even as her back arched and her knees widened. Begging Sinadim for more, despite the knot ballooning inside her. Sealing his royal seed inside, the prince had been the last one to claim her. The anvil flare of his cock scrubbing her clean of competition, he’d left only his seed inside her. Deep as he could go. Marked by the pearly ooze of the most dominant male.
It was his right.
The heat of another twisted against Balkazar’s hip. Squirming, the prickle of fine hairs teased his groin, and the war chief groaned. Taking a great, huffing breath, just to bring the memories rushing back. His vision filled with writhing flesh. Intoxicated, the two Anhur males had been selfish with their prize. Keeping the others from sampling that which they’d been born to covet, they drank her down until her eyes had gone glassy. Pupils blown so wide, she’d become little more than a vessel for Anhur sperm. One they’d over-filled before they’d allowed any of the hybrids to so much as touch the greedy girl.
Lounging in her pathetic nest, Sinadim had been content to watch the others defile her. Allowing her to suckle at his exhausted prick as one hybrid after the other mounted her from behind. Giving his brothers their due. Payment for their service, for they were not his kin. Not born with the compulsive loyalty that made those hybrid sons the envy of all unattached males. Instead, Sinadim paid them in a pussy dripping in slick, indulging himself in the show until he was ready to take her again.
And Balkazar? He’d been given free reign. Second only to the prince himself, the war chief had taken liberties that would have seen him hanged in the Silver City. Gelded for the crime of touching a precious harem breeder. Of daring to pump her womb full of unworthy seed, and endangering the bloodlines.
It hadn’t stopped Sinadim before, when they’d been in service to the Sultan, but here? In the wilds beyond the wall?
The prince was untethered by his father’s morality. Free to revel in hedonistic delights of watching a female he’d claimed stretched out by another.
Since the very first time Sinadim had led Balkazar into the quiet gloom of his private, royal harem, Balkazar had known the prince to be generous in a manner other Anhur were not. And it was the prince himself who’d told him to sample one of his many treasured gems. The simpering little slut offered as a reward for a battle well-fought—the swelling of her belly, however? That one of the kits born moons later blinked up at him with the same blue irises he saw in the mirror?
It was a high he’d been chasing ever since.
Groaning, eyes closed, Balkazar stroked the plane of hard flesh lined up at his groin. The prickle of wiry hairs against his palm was one that saw a confused frown pinching the space between bunched brows.
Still, his erection pulsed with interest. The scent of what they’d done permeating his brain with memories, and the knowledge that no matter how exhausted, this new female was still in season.
