“Still in bed,” came the gruff reply. “Sulking, far as I can tell.”
The Alpha snorted and tossed his scraps into the fire—she saw the sparks leap. “Vain little thing, isn’t he?”
“Pathetic,” the second sneered, hackles bristling in profile. “Even the hybrids are bitching about it, as if none of us know what it is to be docked.”
This was a pack of unmated Anhur and hybrid males, then. Apparently new to life in the beyond.
Her stump gave a sympathetic twinge in remembrance, the phantom of that beloved fifth limb tucking between her thighs as if she could protect it after all this time.
“I’ll have a chat with him,” the Alpha said, and stood, his face obscured from where she skulked. He clapped his hands against his backside. A backside that was thick with muscle she couldn’t help but watch until it disappeared into the camp’s only tent. And even though the absence of his tail made her heart sink, she knew it would be held high. In the manner of all dominant Anhur, no matter their gender.
She needed to leave. One Anhur was an insane risk—but two, plus a handful of hybrid males?
They’d force her submission in an instant, all her planning would go to rot.
No, what she needed was a lone hybrid. A sterile hybrid male who was bigger than an Anhur.
Even if they didn’t have the most potent sperm or… or the biggest knot. A Beta was safe.
She swallowed, clenching her thighs together, spine tingling with the threat of an unprovoked orgasm. One she fought, for to get caught now, without a plan, was to become a slave to these unknown males.
When next she could focus her attention on the camp, the Alpha had already returned and reclaimed his seat. His back to her once more—at his side, a slender Hathorian male.
Sucking in a breath, she lurched forward. Ears pressed flat to her skull, hood slipping back to reveal her face, the stench of fear began to seep through her camouflage.
An elegant little blond, all slim lines and soft edges. His ears left intact, the graceful shells flickering back and forth. Tipped in a golden sheen, the hair within was kept trim and soft. Groomed.
But if the mussed hair, smudged kohl, and bleary gaze was any indication, he didn’t appear to be adapting to life in the beyond very well.
Or he was being abused by this pack.
Tortured… raped.
Hathorian males were almost as rarely seen as the females.
They were pets. Traded amongst Anhur queens and trained to please in all ways. Aesthetic perfection, they bore the whims of their mistresses. Decorated in piercings and swirling tattoos, each trendier than the last.
This delicate creature was the first she’d ever seen.
“I’m not hungry,” he said, a lilting symphony of soft tones edged with an alluring hint of something gruff. Or perhaps his voice was merely strained, as if he’d invested a lot of time in noisy weeping.
“Eat it anyway,” the Alpha said and passed him the last portion of roasted meat, his voice heavy with a wisp of familiarity that made her shudder.
The command, perhaps. Or the tone. Whatever it was, it made the born submissive inside her shiver and present. Losing focus long enough to make her spine flex where she would have lifted her tail in desperate, sordid invitation.
Oblivious to the female in need, the Alpha continued to press his command. Unyielding, until the dainty male huffed, accepting with a graceless pout. “We’re packing up in the morning, Sickle,” the Alpha continued, voice laden with gentle reprimand. “You need to keep your strength up.”
Shoulders slumping, Sickle nodded. Utterly defeated even as he began to chew, taking tiny bites. But though Sickle’s posture was meek, he didn’t flinch when the Alpha clapped his shoulder—he offered a weak smile that still managed to make her heart flutter with giddy excitement.
But the wonder of seeing her first Hathorian male paled in comparison to the absurdity of an Anhur miming kindness. How could Sickle stomach the Alpha’s touch?
Baffled by such an outlandish notion, she crept closer, trying to catch a glimpse of the Alpha’s face so she could see what kind of monster she’d found in the wood. What brand of cruelty he offered Sickle in exchange for a smile like that?
The rest of the pack began to gather around the fire, not one among them seeming to roll over for this Alpha who ate and lounged with peasants.
“Who’s on guard tonight?” the Alpha asked, his mane on full display where it traced the top third of his spine.. Relaxed and at ease. Elbows on knees, leaning forward in a position the girl knew well—it allowed one to sit without bothering an amputation site.
“Keever and Konjo,” the other Anhur replied, and took a long drink from a patchy water skin. His throat bobbing around each swallow.
But when the Alpha yawned and said, “Take Sickle with you. He’s an asset,” the other Anhur barked out a laugh.
“What’s he going to do if they run across one of the infected, huh? Offer to make it pretty with a bit of fire ash?”
Sickle’s demeanor grew sharp, his grin displaying pointed, intact teeth. It was a thing she’d only ever heard spoken of in reference to the procedure all female harem slaves went through. Filing the canines flat and blunt to protect their Anhur masters from damage during the rut.
To take away their only natural defense and turn it into just another hole to be used. She ran her tongue over the smooth line of her teeth, her heart squelching painfully against her ribs.
It was the Alpha’s turn to laugh, and he clapped Sickle’s nape as he did so—then shifted into her line of sight.
The left side of his face shown in a shaft of flickering fire light.
Hadim.
He was here.
Right in front of her.
Come to collect his runaway slave.
And she was out of time, out of options, for with one glance she succumbed. Her body reacting to the memory of her master, of his knot as it filled and soothed. Spurting and kicking against that final gate, painting her cervix white with his thick, Anhur cream.
Muscles quivering in a fine shiver, she fought to remain still. Hidden. To deny the pull she felt to go to him. To take her punishment as she was meant and please the male who could make it all better…
Blunt teeth bared, her eyes snapped open. Ears twitched flat against her skull, hidden deep inside her cloak.
No.
She would suffer alone. Throw herself to the mercy of feral monsters and be torn apart, consumed alive before she ever allowed Hadim to touch her again.
No matter the danger, she retreated. Eyes fixed to the pack, ears leveled out, she strained for any hint that she’d been discovered. Any hiccup in their low conversation that might warn her to pause, her breath held as terror pounded through her veins, for beneath her cloak of putrid rot, she was naked.
Vulnerable.
“We’ll continue the hunt at first light,” the Alpha said, then stood in one fluid motion. Turned and stepped over a fallen log. Moving toward her with sure, easy steps.
She froze.
Belly flat in the detritus, she dared only watch his approaching boots. Terrified to glance up, as if that would improve her chances of evasion.
He stopped at the forest’s edge, uttered a clipped huff, and the whisper of laces through leather swished above her. A deep, masculine sigh and water splashed just beyond where she lay prone in the dirt.
Urine.