She’d be ripe for days, yet.
Unable to be anything at all, except for willing. Eager for more until herBiqueaglands were submitted and milked dry, her system flooded with the soothing balm to a natural season.
And this time, Balkazar didn’t need permission to plant life inside her. Life that would reflect the quality of the dam they’d caught.
By the fires, the lengths she’d gone to lure them in! Feisty didn’t begin to describe their pretty little breeder.
The Omega who’d laughed at a gentle touch.
Scoffed when the hybrids had been kind and hesitant with their prize.
Sneered when Sickle sought to offer her comfort, when the silly creature had tried to coo and set her at ease.
Balkazar had never seen such a thing before. A lowly Omega female, in heat, capable of setting traps and denying the commands of not one Anhur male, but two.
But when they’d finally gotten free of their bonds?
Gods, the way she’d fought! Hissing and spitting, their little breeder possessed the heart of an Anhur female, fresh from the fighting pits.
Even now, after emptying himself dozens of times, the war chief needed more. Hips flexing, he ground himself against the heat of another. Finding his path already slippery, he stretched with a rumbling groan.
His dreams had been infected with the whisper of silky black hair matted with ropes of royal seed. Dreams in which the prince had been by his side, allowing him to take her first. Sinadim’s shadowy presence spurring him on, imagined, ghostly fingers pushing him deeper into that spoiled, desperate cunt.
With a grunt, Balkazar’s eyes snapped open. Hovering on the edge of orgasm, he found slender limbs pinned beneath his weight.
Limbs inked with the swirling designs of a Hathorian slave.
A male.
Sickle.
For one uncertain instant, as Balkazar scowled down at the boy, he considered the curve of plump flesh laid out before him. Not a warrior, the boy was soft where he was achingly hard. Ink twisted in elegant patterns over Sickle’s back and ribs, the etchings of his Hathorian lineage scrawled down the bumps of his spine. And the scar of a docked tail that sat just above the pale crinkled flesh that lay hidden between smooth, lightly muscled cheeks. A hole that had surely been used before…
His cock dripped.
Snarling, Balkazar staggered to his feet. Eyes flicking over tangled limbs. Elbows and knees, broad shoulders and sparse manes—but no slender female among them.
Struggling to rise, he threw off a heavy forearm draped over his hip and, head tipped back, he took a breath.
Trying to follow her path from the nest, the scent of slick hung heavy in the still air, serving only to confuse his senses. Instead, he scowled at his surroundings, blue eyes searching the shadows, went back to the slumbering shapes of his brothers, seeking the curves that fitjust soin the palm of his hands.
“She’s gone,” the prince said, voice a breathy rasp. Nothing more than a bulky silhouette against the mouth of their impromptu cave, his naked back tight with bunching muscles that spoke of his scarcely restrained fury.
“Gone?” Balkazar asked, a harsh bark of disbelief as he scrambled from the nest. Stepping on Micha’s thigh, the dusky flesh dimpled beneath his foot. “How—”
Turning to face him, Sinadim’s good eye flicked over the war chief. His good eye wild and rimmed in red. “The little bitch ran.”
Heat rushed to Balkazar’s cheeks. The flush of shame that crept over his nape and spilled across his entire face. Shame that she’d dare to offer such grave insult—andaftershe’d been properly claimed and submitted, no less. “Ah…” he sighed, glancing back to the pile of limbs tangled around each other. “A fuckin’ shame, that. Stupid whore.”
Dragging a breath between clenched teeth, Sinadim’s hackles rose across broad shoulders. The scent of Anhur musk peppering the air with the flavor of his rage. But, with a howl, the prince whirled onBalkazar. Fists clenched at his sides, the Alpha male shivered with something beyond fury, a misplaced tempest. One working pupil narrowed to a tiny prick of darkness, the other fixed where it lay ruined and bisected.
And then, through the low rumble of a growl, his words shimmered to life. “Prepare the others to hunt.”
“You mean to collect her?” Balkazar choked on a laugh. “She was a good fuck, I’ll give her that. But”—he knelt, touching the tiny impression where her footprints led away from the mouth of the cave—“her trail’s almost gone cold. She’s had hours, Sinadim. Hours roaming the wilds, reeking of high-quality pussy.In heat.” The war chief shrugged, his cock deflating against his thigh. “She’s probably already dead. Her corpse being rutted by a hoard, even now—”
Lunging, Sinadim caught Balkazar’s throat in his fist. Slammed him against the rock wall so hard his head cracked and his vision splintered.“Don’t,” the prince spat, his every muscle vibrating where his heat pressed against Balkazar’s nudity.
Gone was the sense brotherhood they’d found with a bitch spread between them. In its place, a prince shaking with a possessive rage the likes of which Balkazar had never known.
