“Of a feral army.” Grinning, Giaus wet his lips and tried to relieve the strain on his vocal chords. “Lend me your secrets. March at my side and conquer a kingdom far greater than any you meant to inherit.”
Sinadim’s eye flicked to the female curled in Giaus’ lap. The question went unspoken, hanging thick enough to taste.
But for a long while, he didn’t seem to so much as breathe.
“I have to piss,” Sinadim whispered at length, head thumping back against the wall of their prison. Wrinkled brow a direct contrast to the soft laugh that passed his lips. “Insufferable cur haven’t left us a shit bucket, have they?”
In spite of himself, Giaus snorted.
“I…” the prince swallowed, throat giving up a dry click. “I cannot hold it any longer.”
Jerking his chin toward the lowest point of their narrow cell, Giaus pulled Renegade more fully into his lap. Greedy for her weight pressed to his skin.
Swaying, Sinadim stood. Claws fully extended, he clung to the walls for the two paces it took to gain what little privacy he could. The muscles of his low back bunching and flexing, shivering where his tail might have displayed his pain and irritation. His discomfort.
But he’d been docked, and Giaus was left only with the presumption. The memories of what his own experience with the Trax had been.
For a moment, Sinadim was silent except for the wheezing breaths of one who’d spent too much energy on so trivial a task. Shoulders slumped, one forearm braced against the prison wall, he waited with damp brow pressed into the crook of his elbow. The other hand wrapped around his cock. Mane limp.
The sound of rushing liquid preceded a hiss of pain, and the fist that wasn’t between his legs pounded against the wall. “Ah, fuck,” he choked, and the stream of urine came to an abrupt stop. “I’m pissing blood, miner. By the Nine, that hurts.”
Another pathetic trickle eked out, but that was it. And when the prince returned, he was dappled in a fine sheen of sour sweat that was heavy on the palate.
And then, “She shares your pain,” he said without turning. “Your rage and joy. Everything. I didn’t realize… I’m not sure what a dual bond might mean for a Hathorian.”
Eyes locked on the ceiling of their prison, Giaus’ thumb traced the edge her jaw. “And this bond… it’s a one sided thing?”
“If only,” Sinadim rasped, and turned to slide back to the granite floor with a grunt. “It only makes sense to start from the beginning.” He sighed, then. Head tilted back, feet slipping against the bedrock. A helpless gesture that saw Sinadim’s cheeks flush with heat, as his ankle pressed closer to the giant’s warmth.
Giaus didn’t react. Not when Renegade whined—reaching again for that something intangible—and not when a bit of loose shale crumbled from the edge of the pit above, scattering them with falling debris.
“They’re a weakness we can’t resist.” Sinadim coughed, misting the air with the coppery scent of stale blood. “Wars are fought for possession of fragile creatures that need constant tending. Countless Anhur sacrificed for the best Hathorian bloodlines. The larger the harem, the larger the hybrid armies that march forward in their father’s name. All of it for slick. The pinnacle of Anhur luxury,” Sinadim said with a dry chuckle, his eyes sliding closed. “The addiction of choice amongst royalty”—he coughed again, spat out a glob of bloody spittle—“for its ability to cause a powerful rut. Ecstasy at a whim. I was no exception. Addicted, as are any with unrestricted access. Breeding a large harem is endless work, but it’s the only way to feed the addiction without the risk of a pair bond.”
Giaus frowned, peering down at the tiny thing draped across his lap. The female that had brought him so much. “Seems easier to take one, instead of dozens.”
Nodding, Sinadim fought to remain sitting. “No more rebellions started by desperate males with no options…” Trembling, he propped himself up, knees tucked high and tight. Braced against the slippery floor, he made to take the higher ground. Tried not to touch the massive male who’d beaten him senseless with a nauseating ease. Failed. “Only a bonded Omega can produce slick on a whim. No more waiting for her heat to ripen. But there’s a price for unlimited access to such a rare nectar,” Sinadim wheezed. “And when a commodity is scarce…”
“Horded by the elite?” Giaus hummed, doing little to hide the contempt.
Sinadim shrugged, accepting the accusation. “Pair bonds are a tactic used by the skin traders. Those with enemies they mean to control. To punish.” He blinked. “I’ve seen it myself. Obliterated nests of bonded Omegas rented out to any who can pay. Slick on tap, one female can service dozens in a single day. They lead short, horrific lives that end in brutal deaths. Broken over a thousand knots. They’re wretched creatures,” Sinadim whispered, his gaze dropping to his claws. “For them… death is welcome. A mercy.”
“And the Anhur they’re bonded to?” Giaus asked, combing Renegade’s hair as she slumbered in his arms.
Mane bristling, Sinadim bared his teeth around a savage grin. “Doomed without their bonded Omega. Condemned to an everlasting rut, they fuck themselves to death. Unable to knot or cum. They spend their last hours paying the price. Mindless beasts searching for an outlet that doesn’t exist, they’ll use any hole they can. Male… female… enemy or friend. It doesn’t matter. Endlessly rutting until the body breaks down and the heart comes apart. That’s what she’s done to you.To us. If that girl dies,” Sinadim said, shivering sweat bloomed across his brow, “we won’t last three days. And if we can’t find a better way to hydrate her? Less.”
To this, Giaus had nothing to say. Nothing to offer but a tight nod as he gazed at the creature who’d killed them both.
“So,” Sinadim said. Sniffling, his mane bristling on a shiver he couldn’t suppress. Lips quirked. “King of the beyond. How long do I have? Fever and chills I expected.” He jerked his chin toward the ceiling of their prison. “But Balkazar is showing all the traditional signs of the infected. Rotten idiot that he is. How long before I succumb? Before my brain is filled with puss?”
“Are you frightened, prince?” A savage grin split across feral teeth, glinting in the gloom. His lips parted, tongue flicking up, to paint the roof of his mouth in her scent and bask in what only he knew.
“I’m not a prince,” Sinadim returned, and shifted to the left. Crossing his ankles, knees spread, his toes brushed Giaus’ shin.
The giant’s glare flicked to the contact, but he said, “And I’m not a miner. I was a smith before I became a king.”
Head tipped back, a laugh huffed over Sinadim’s lips. “Well that explains your deadly right hook.” And then, in a voice that trembled, “How’d you survive it?”
Taking a breath against Renegade’s temple without once letting his disturbing gaze slide free of Sinadim’s face, he pulled her closer. A mate he’d have to share, despite the urge to soak his hands in Sinadim’s blood, but smeared across his palate?
