Giaus extended one long forearm and snatched the package from the air. A package that rattled.
And then, in a voice dry with something that might have been shame or regret, “It’s not… We couldn’t hunt… sorry.”
He waited, watching as the lid to their prison thumped shut once more. And when he tore into the makeshift bag, it was to find an accidental gift.
Bones.
Cooked and picked clean, only the barest whisper of meat clung to those ivory shafts.
But Giaus smiled, appeased by such a boon. For it wasn’t the first time he’d almost starved, hamstrung by an injury. Weakened and in need of calories to heal.
Settling back with the sort of smirk befitting royalty, Giaus weighed the largest bone in his palm and found it solid.Fullof marrow.
Eaten raw, it was a hard and spongy substance. A tedious chore.
But cooked?
Salvation had been dropped neatly into his pocked and ruined claws.
Not wasting another moment, Giaus cracked one of the long bones in half, careful that any spillage landed on Renegade’s pale stomach. Using her as a serving platter, just so he might lick her clean. A meal enjoyed at his leisure, despite the dreary circumstances.
And then—ankles crossed, head tipped back—he set the broken edge to his lips and swallowed the buttery paste. Tongue darting out to scoop up the left overs. He drained three entire bones like that, slurping up calories as fast as he could. Swallowing without tasting. Didn’t stop until he was dizzy with the rush of nutrients and there was a mass of congealed fat sitting heavy in his gut.
Without bothering to stand and disturb his unconscious mate, Giaus took the longest of the bones and broke the bulbous knuckle clean off. Leaving only a hollow pipe drained of marrow, which he set against the smooth granite bedrock of their prison floor.
Already wet from filtered river runoff, it made the perfect whetstone. One he utilized with practiced efficiency, grinding that first bone down until he had a rough spigot.
Large enough to be used as a faucet, to tap the river’s potential and quench the extreme thirst ravaging his mate’s throat—a thirst that needed to be quenched, or she would never survive this hellish infection. Dead of dehydration as the slick spilled and spilled from her honeyed cunt.
Collecting the club end of the thickest of the bones, Giaus eyed the layers of shale that made up the dripping walls, set that pipe between the sheets of rock and struck it with his makeshift hammer. Pounding it deeper until he was satisfied with the anchor and the first hint of moisture began to bead along the freshly ground edge.
Slow at first, but it wasn’t long before a steady drizzle of water began to flow through the tap. Landing wasted on the floor of their prison.
Undeterred, Giaus gathered himself to use what little energy he’d gained from his meal and went to work. Measuring where the water fell, he took the heavy, blunt knuckle bone and began to hammer out a shallow pool. A reservoir that held the slightest hint scent of sulfur, but was sweet enough to save them from a long, slow dessication.
Enough to speed his recovery and free him of this pathetic pit.
Only when the pool had filled and he’d drunk his fill did he open another of the bones. Dipping his forefinger, Giaus gazed into the pallid face of his mate and painted her lips. Teasing the tip of her tongue with the rich, buttery flavor of marrow.
She didn’t react. Eyes fluttering behind lids swollen shut, Renegade was held prisoner inside her mind. Growing weaker with each rattling, watery breath.
“On… on her gums,” Sinadim rasped, a rogue tear leaking from his ruined silver eye as he watched from the gloom. Roused by the sounds of construction.
Mane bristling to a stand, Giaus grunted through his teeth.
“Rub it on her gums. To start”—a violent shiver racked the fallen prince’s entire body—“to start digestion.”
Without taking his eyes off the other, Giaus dipped his finger anew, parted her lips with his opposite thumb, then rubbed the oily, life-saving grease over Renegade’s gums. Coating the inside of her lips. Probing between her teeth, he painted her tongue in a slow lurid thrust, enticing her to suck.
She moaned, the sound a whisper of anguish that rattled against Giaus’ ears. Speaking of just how far she’d fallen to the virus, how quickly. That she wouldn’t persist for much longer without direct intervention.
Nursing at his finger, Renegade caught his wrist in a grip that trembled with weakness.
Sinadim hummed—a happy sound that managed to lack any hint of heat. Gloating utterly absent in the one-eyed male. Instead, Sinadim struggled to sit. Twisting until his back was against the wall at Giaus’ side, the prince heaved for breath and settled in. And then, careful of the still-weeping wounds where his claws had caught and lacerated her almost down to the bone, Sinadim draped Renegade’s slender legs across his lap. Seemingly content to play second to Giaus’ lead.
It was Renegade’s contented sigh that saved Sinadim from a vicious death. His life preserved only because of the way her tongue searched for any missed droplet of marrow. The promise oflifein the gentle suck and pull against the king’s finger.
And through a thunderous glare, Giaus was made to watch as her tiny feet were swallowed up in big hands that weren’t his own, but those of her second mate…
