A low rumble brought her attention back to the king. Teasing her ears and her fluttering heart all at once, she took a step toward that delicious sound. Enticed as she watched him posture. Watched his mane flare hot and possessive, broadcasting his scent as he met her with an unblinking glare.
And it was then, as she braced for a battle, that she took note of the loose ring of bodies surrounding her.
Males of the pack, picking their way through the killing field to watch.
Micha, Keever and Konjo. The hybrids were clean in a way her Anhur were not. Spared this battle between the infected, their eyes absent any trace of the virus.
Twisting her neck, she looked and saw no hint of the war chief and felt no urge to search among the heaps of dead. But the same could not be said of the smallest male. Her counterpart, the one she’d chosen first.
“Sickle?” she asked, gaze darting from face to face.
Giaus snarled, seething that he was being made to address another male, but he said, “The Unworthy spoke of him in the heat of battle.”
“Balkazar mentioned Sickle?” Sinadim barked, tearing his eyes away from Renegade’s nudity to demand clarification.
With an irate flick of his tail, Giaus nodded.
But despite Sinadim’s curse, they all knew what that meant. What fate held for the little male who couldn’t possibly fight a horde without a pack.
“Gone,” she murmured, and she hated the way the word felt in her mouth. Sour. Wrong.
And if the wetness on her cheeks was more than just the pain of light-sensitive eyes, she blinked it all away. Letting the light sear her retinas so they couldn’t guess at her weakness, her attention flicked back to the mountain standing a full head above the rest.
Quick calculations raced through her mind as she tried to catch up. Oblivious to her nudity, she crouched in the center of a loose semicircle of raging testosterone. Ears flicking back and forth.
In the end, it was Giaus who claimed her attention. The very sight of him standing there caked in filth, posturing for her perusal, made her throat itch. Aching to unleash that sweet Omega purr that might soothe the king of the wilds and tame him for her pleasure.
“You seek the spoils of victory,” she said at length, and pulled her feet more firmly beneath her. “A reward for the violence you’ve dealt today.”
It wasn’t a question.
“A gift,” he rumbled, mane bristling about his shoulders as he sent a surge of Anhur hunger dancing through her blood. “For my Omega.”
Renegade’s lips twitched, and she did not blink. “I’m not your Omega,” she drawled, coy, because she knew just how much he wanted to see her temper flare. Just how much denying him would rankle and arouse. Perched on all fours, her hands braced in the muck between the balls of her feet, she let her knees fall apart and set a trap made to torment the male eye. Knew exactly how these males would see the bulge of her breasts when they were pressed together, and she knew just how it would entice when they were given a hint of what lay between her thighs. “I’m not a womb for you to fill with soldiers.”
Something vicious gleamed in feral eyes. First from Giaus, who openly adjusted the length of a swollen prick, and then from Sinadim, who did it discreetly as the link between them grew sick with both rejection and helpless attraction all at once.
“You’ve come seeking a war bride,” she continued, rising to stand in his shadow as she addressed Giaus and made a show of it for Sinadim.
Thunder rolled through Giaus’ chest but he didn’t move. Not a muscle so much as twitched as she picked her way through, closing the distance between them with careful steps.
“You’ve laid a hundred corpses at my feet,” she said, and took a step that landed on a body still warm with what had once passed for life out in the beyond. “Fought a battle that surely sent terror into the hearts of the Nine themselves, with only your general at your side.”
Sinadim’s mane flared, and though he dared not step between them, he couldn’t help but posture. Arousal pulsed through him into her. Lust that was chased by a stiff shot of loathing and rejection fueled by the thrill of something taboo he shouldn’t want.
Potent enough that she glanced his way, just for a moment. Just to make it hurt before her attention returned to Giaus.
Hips rolling, feet placed to highlight the modest curves she possessed, Renegade’s lips twitched at the edges. “Wholesale slaughter just to show your worth. That you deserve the mark I put on your shoulder.”
She reached, dainty fingers closing the distance between them as she traced the spot already healed, high atop Giaus’ shoulder.
A silver ring of scars that bound her to the beast—almost obliterated by a fresh wound from a mutated jaw.
“And yet…” She trilled, high and elegant at the back of her throat, circling a broad, blood soaked back. Fingertips trailing through the muck, she painted little swirls as she scraped away at the surface and revealed the tint of bronzed skin lurking beneath. She turned away with a shrug. “And yet, you’re no better than the worst of them.”
Giaus flinched, head snapping down to scowl at her in open disbelief.
“You come seeking a war bride,” she said again. “You drop trinkets at my feet and expect me to lift the tail in awe at your mighty prowess.” A low hiss spattered over her lips as her ears flicked back. As her feet slid apart and she assumed a battle position. “You offer insult in place of tribute.”
