Grinning, her eyes fluttered and rolled when the king found the swollen bead of her clit and sent his thumb to trace happy little circles that saw her jaw go slack. Loopy, barely conscious, she let her head fall back, shivering with the sort of supreme satisfaction only a Hathorian female might ever know.
Sedated by Giaus’ knot—by his touch and his purr and his every ounce of undivided, feral attention—she forgot to beg for Sinadim. Left the prince trembling with the misery of neglect as she was tended by her mate… for of course… either of them would do…
… and Sinadim didn’t quite measure up.
But a smile twitched into being, for he still had one last secret to play.
One that would secure him in place as eternal irritant to the king he’d sworn to serve.
“I have said we shall build a kingdom,” Giaus began, and left her draped across his thighs as he settled back. As the water washed away much of the gore drying on his skin, he spread his arms over the rim of the hot-spring and let her work his length at her leisure. The king was content to watch the muscles in her back flex as she rode that massive knot. “I have said I have no interest in the wars of weak males swaddled in luxury,” Giaus drawled, and sent blunted fingers through the tangles of black silk. Twisting his digits through her hair, he worked to untangle ropes of glossy pitch so they might cascade down the length of her spine. “I meant to let you prove your worth,” he added, and glanced at those gathered around the hot-spring. “To die forgotten, if that was the will of the Nine.”
Refusing to submit, Sinadim tore himself free of his ruined clothing and splashed into the hot water. Arrogant, drawn by the ripple of waves lapping at pinkened skin, his mismatched gaze remained fixed to Renegade’s slender frame as he sat. Bold when he said, “King of nothing,” and thumbed the ridge of scars that no longer wept or itched. “A ruler without a throne or legacy.”
“I was wrong,” Giaus said,easily.Admitting fault with a smirk thrown over the crown of Renegade’s hair, acknowledging the barb without bothering to muster any heat. “I’ve conquered much… survived the wilds long enough to forget the passing seasons.Alone. I’ve seen darkness more terrible than you can possibly imagine, survived nightmares and slaughtered giants with ease. But the nuances of brotherhood”—he shrugged—“eludes me.”
Falling in around them, Micha, Keever, and Konjo kept a wary distance. Leery of infection, intrigued by the impossible nature of what they’d seen Giaus do in spite of their blood oath to a pack that was no more.
“Sinadim begged for your lives,” Giaus went on. “He saved you, when I was content to let you rot.”
Micha’s sparse mane stood on end, his voice a deep boom of droll sarcasm. “If this is your great speech to convince us to let go all our convictions, you’re leaving much to be desired.”
Giaus’ grin only grew. A knowing fire blazing in a moment of shared knowing between them, for with a seductive rattle passing over his lips, Giaus’ chin tilted back. To taste the wind, his pupils blooming as he fell into the Sight.
“We saw what became of Balkazar,” Micha added, oblivious to the divinity shimmering right in front of them. “The war chief is sick with the very pestilence you offer as a reward for this… madness. Vile and corrupt. No different than the diseased miscreants you just dispatched so effortlessly. What promise can you possibly make to assure us we aren’t doomed for that same fate?”
For a moment, there was only the gentle slap of water disturbed by the queen.
And then amber eyes flicked up and found anchor on Sinadim’s face, and he knew. What Giaus wanted of him. Why he’d been permitted to stay and sit so close.
It was the illusion of unity.
“Iam that promise,” Sinadim murmured, unable to keep his eye from wandering back to jiggling breasts topped with rosy nipples dancing just out of reach. His cock grew painfully thick beneath warm water. “Balkazar,” he murmured, and made fleeting eye contact with the king as he stirred the water with his claws, “is Giaus’ creation. Nothers.”
And then, sending those claws to trace the imprint of blunted teeth, Sinadim showed them what Renegade had done. That Giaus was not the only one claimed by the queen.
“There is a new variant,” Sinadim said. “A third. One born of your mother’s people. Hathorian, not Anhur.”
Sparse mane flaring about broad, dark shoulders, Micha sucked a breath through his teeth. His gaze snapping back to the prize cradled in Giaus’ arms. “Impossible,” Micha whispered at length, denying it, despite the light of understanding gleaming from within. Unable to tear his eyes from the rosy cheeks of the female spread and stuffed on Giaus’ lap. “Yourqueen,” he said reluctantly. “Ourrisk. No guarantees that we’ll survive the killing fever as you have. Changed. Graced with this incredible strength and speed.” Micha’s nose wrinkled, and with a boldness Sinadim had never seen from the hybrid warrior, he dared to prod a ring of teeth that had almost obliterated Renegade’s coveted mating mark left high on Giaus’ shoulder. “Twice infected, yet seemingly immune to the original strain.”
“It’s true, the virus kills more often than it doesn’t,” Giaus said, voice a deep rumble of words over gravel as he addressed the hybrids. “True that I have no reason to fear infection from a thing I alone have mastered. And it is true,” he growled, and moved to grip Renegade’s hips as they rolled and worked on his lap, “that there are things out here you cannot imagine. Dangers spawned from the ashes of our ancestors, fed by the fools who throw precious things over the wall.” Giaus’ mane flared, and he crushed Renegade’s back to his front. One massive arm wrapped tight about her middle, he brought her close as her fragile bones could bear. “Fools who discard Hathorians like trash because they’re blinded by fear. Content to let you die in pointless wars, they grow fat while we are left mutilated and starving. Our tails docked for daring to want just a taste of what the elite horde.
“There is no promise of a happy ending in the feral court—only the eventuality that you will fall to the Trax, one and all.” Giaus shrugged. “I offer the luxury of hope. A chance for more, if you’re bold enough to take it, for this is a test of your loyalty,” he murmured, and his hands dipped below the surface to seize the cradle of Renegade’s hips. Shunting deeper as he guided her to ride, and ride hard. “Not to me. Not to any mere Anhur master who proves himself worthy of your skill. This is a test of loyalty to your queen. This precious female who shall birth a new era, who carries inside her the very blood of the Nine.”
At this, Renegade’s glare grew sharp. Vicious with defiance. “I will not—”
But before she might react, before she could deny that she’d breed high-quality hybrids for them, Giaus uttered a song meant to enslave and cherish. Lips pressed into her hair, he soothed the girl with a throbbing purr that sent mayhem spiraling through Sinadim’s senses and had him swallowing the threads of competition once more.
Her rebellion was enough to send Giaus over the edge. Succumbing to the tug and pull his mate’s cunt, he snarled. Buried himself hard, tail lashing beneath the surface of warm water. Battering at the spot where she held him fast and wouldn’t let go, only to feel her come apart on his knob. Where they could all see the clenching grip she had on him.
As if unaffected by so sordid a display, Micha tilted his dark head, and frowned. “Build a kingdom in the fashion of the old ways?Here?”
“‘Here’ is defensible,” Giaus returned. Panting as a drop of sweat trickled through the grime misting his cheeks. “A wall at our backs. Forest and river everywhere else.” And then the king paused in his sermon. Hesitating, when he said, “There are packs. Hordes of infected like the one you saw today. Mindless, roaming beasts who serve but a single master.”
It was Sinadim who bristled. Sindaim who caught the swirling undertone of worry laced in Giaus’ deep voice. “You’ve seen it,” he said. “This beast you won’t name.”
Giaus stilled. “It is a darkness that swallows everything in its path. It owns the hordes. Commands the Legion.” At this, a shiver went through the king. Disguised in the bubbling waters—felt beneath the surface by a fallen prince. “The infected are driven to collect fodder for the great roaming armies patrolling these woods. Females for a massive diseased harem. Rare is the male who can resist the call of the Legion, as I have done. For it never stops calling…”
Sinadim’s jaw flexed, the muscle jumping in agitation.
