Both Hathorians lost in a single day. Condemned, the pack would watch her abasement without acting, for the moment Giaus finally set his knot, Sickle would strike.
He knew it with more certainty than he’d ever known anything before. Could see it in the determination etched deep in that slender, tattooed scowl.
And there wasnothinghe could do to stop it.
Claws dimpling his palm, Sinadim hesitated. An absurd, unpopular thought beginning to form in the prince’s mind. Considering, for it took a toll to think the words, much less give them voice.
Renegade was already lost.
Sickle only a few precious minutes behind her, a causality of his own misplaced sense of loyalty.
Utterly beyond any hope of saving, except for what they might glean from claiming vengeance in their names.
Unless…
Unless Sinadim broke free of his own petty jealousy. Shucked the rut and acted the prince.
Before him two Hathorians. A matching set. One male, the other female.
Between them?
A new strain of Trax and an Anhur stud who might be used to breed hybrids the likes of which the Silver City couldn’t hope to defend against.
Grinning, Sinadim’s hackles rose up.
Balkazar was right.
From Renegade’s womb, an army. Hybrid titans to march on the Silver City. Illegitimate sons who would seat Sinadim on the Sultan’s throne and serve him Hadim’s hated skull on a spike.
Meeting Balkazar’s icy blue glare once more, he signaled the war chief. Asked for a distraction, despite what it might cost.
And then a whispered command slipped over Sinadim’s lips. “I want them all alive.”
15
Giaus was buried inside a tight sheath. One that fluttered and clenched, those powerful Hathorian muscles beseeching him to empty himself, trying to wring him dry and leave him empty.
Pulsing with a silent demand for obedience, he hummed a tune of supreme satisfaction and obliged his precious mate. Claws working at her stump just to feel her lurch beneath him. To feel her body milking the essence straight from his knot.
He didn’t stop until she screamed her throat raw, her orgasm coming hard and unexpected. The gargled wail of one whose voice box couldn’t access air, he was rewarded with a flood of glossy slick that eased his path. Left her vulnerable, even as she convulsed. Those pretty black eyes rolling back until all he could see was white.
“That’s it,” he hummed, voice rattling with the edges of a ragged purr. “Again.”
Riding the clenching waves, Giaus grinned. Pulled back and worked her tight slit at his leisure. Picking up a heavy rhythm, he pummeled her cervix with an ease denoting howrightthis was. Easing off when she mewled for more, pounding deep as he could go when she cried and begged for him to stop.
Her body a treasure that sang and danced at his every whim, she opened to him.
“Filthywhore,” the other male spat, voice constricted by his restraints. Shouting, too loud for such close quarters, trying to make her hear. “You are unworthy of even a beast such as this. He blesses you, slut. In the only way you might ever earn—on your back. Stuffed full.”
With a snarl, Giaus lashed out with the back of his fist. Redoubling his efforts to ensure those sour, hateful words were obliterated from a mind that was made to feel only what Giaus allowed.
Owning her like this? It was an aphrodisiac the likes of which Giaus had never known.
A thing he’d never give up, now that it was his.
“Please—” She choked on a sob, cheeks reddened, eyes glassy and unseeing. “Pleassee…”
Dipping low to catch the flood of tears, he laved at her cheek and drank her down. Not daring so much as a blink, he cherished what the Nine had given him. Worshiped the body he loved more dearly than his own.
