Grinning now, Giaus met Balkazar’s frosty glare, gloating. His hands dropping low. Squeezing and spreading, his fingers broke the seal held tight around his knot. Dipping inside, he coated her skin in a thick layer of their mixed fluids and bathed her in the scent of a superior, rutting male.
The air grew thick with it as another jet of seed surged up and was held inside.
Taunting.
“I’d applaud if I could,” Balkazar spat. “Didn’t think the little bitch could actually take that hammer, much less a knot likethat. But then,” a nasty smirk spread across split lips before his gaze slid…up.“Shouldn’t be surprised. Shewastrained by the best…”
A shrill war cry split the air, and a moment later, something struck his back.
The impact of sharp, searing pain in his right shoulder felt a moment before Giaus came again.
Bewildered, he roared through an orgasm. Bristling as he shuddered, he moved to cover his mate more thoroughly. To shield her from the blows landing on his back. The stabbing, wrenching pain that twisted as if pulled, threatening to throw him off balance. And all the while, a symphony of chaos echoed all around him.
Screaming and snarling.
Was it the wandering infected, thinking to make a strike against him in the name of thePrimus?Or worse, a lumbering horde he hadn’t heard coming, too absorbed in his new mate?
But the slash of claws never came. Only a weight on his back that didn’t belong, stuck like an autumn burr.
“You don’t deserve her, youbastard!”
With a snarl, Giaus stood. Ignoring the dull, aching tugs at his shoulder blade—the odd sensation coming from deep within in the bone that spoke of damage done—he spun. Giving up his back to Balkazar, his female held fast and clasped tight in his hands, she was wrapped in his arms and crushed to his chest. Covered and safe, sheltered in his embrace, he set her back against the boulder and assessed his surroundings.
Knot at full bloom inside a female he dared not endanger, Giaus was stuck. Helpless to defend against attack while locked inside his precious mate.
Heart thundering inside his chest, Giaus’ blood grew thick with the rut. Every pathetic, clumsy strike fueling his rage, his need to defend the creature who’d marked him. Whose teeth were, even now, buried high on his shoulder as she struggled to hold that belly full of churning cream. Her breath a sweet mist against his nape, yet unaware of the far off blows. Still drugged and sedate around his knot, he pressed deeper inside and ignored the pain wrenching at his back.
Mane standing on end, his tail stiff with warning, Giaus swallowed brutal instinct and let his knot rake against her glands until she mewled and hissed. His only aim to stop her from seeing what came next.
To distract.
Agony ripped through his skin, a sick wrenching of splintering bone and something being forcibly removed from his shoulder.
With a roar, Giaus reached. Groped blindly until he found a warm body. The bones of a skinny neck that fit nicely in his palm.
Slammed bodily against the stone, he hauled the creature over his shoulder, where it was pinned and inspected.
A boy.
Legs thrashing. Hissing. His face etched with elegant swirls and deep, blistering hatred. Dirty with tracked tears. Ears pressed flat, teeth bared, and in his fist?
A short spear dipped in Giaus’ blood—one he recognized. Hadalreadydiscarded once before.
Giaus tore the weapon free, launching it over his shoulder with a careless flick of his wrist. Watching as the boy clawed at his forearm in a paltry attempt to ease the pressure forced against his throat.
Not a boy at all, but a Hathorian male, here to claim what Giaus had been freely given.
More deadly than he’d ever been, Giaus took a breath against his mate’s scalp and bellowed his rage. Misting this new challenger with spittle. Embracing his rut and all the territorial fury that went with it, his grip tightened. Claws damaged by honest battle, extending to rip through soft flesh.
“No… Alpha,please… don’t…”
It was a voice he couldn’t ignore. A soft, feminine sound that soothed his lust for blood and vengeance, and turned his head.
His mate.
Eyes rimmed in white, lips painted an enchanting shade of red, she tugged at his wrist. Addressing him with the title she’d been made to use all her life…
… to beg for the life of another male.
