Male pheromones screaming of fertility and health. It’d been so long, she’d almost forgotten his scent. Almost didn’t recognize her master.
A whimper squealed and died in her throat, scarcely loud enough to escape the leaf litter as Hadim relieved himself.
Her skin burned with aching, blistering need. Eyes falling shut, she squeezed them tight as they could go.
“Something reeks over here,” he murmured, his voice rougher than she recalled. Unrecognizable, it was deeper. The new rasp vibrating straight through her nervous system, making her flex. Her slit oozing dangerously close to fresh air, where it might spill out and overpower the stench of her cloak.
She heard him shake, heard the last few drops as they were flung and spattered against the leaves.
But when he stepped back, giving a hop to adjust his pants, she dared a glance. Couldn’t help the urge to see her master’s face after all these months.
What she saw instead was enough to make her heart skip, lurching to an alarming halt before stuttering to life with an erratic flutter. A scream trapped in her throat.
Scars.
Four deep slashes raked down the right side of his face. Red and swollen, they’d healed badly, the tissue ridged and disfigured. His right eye cast in a milky, silver sheen. The pupil fixed in a narrow prick despite the darkening hour.
Mutilated by another Anhur. There was no mistaking the spread of those wicked claws, the damage that could be wrought with a single, vicious swipe. After all, she still bore the scars from the last time they’d met, her right arm ridged from armpit to wrist by Hadim’s own touch.
A shiver rippled through her, skin crawling as she recalled another time she’d seen what Anhur claws might be capable of. Gooseflesh prickled the inside of her cloak where it clung and slid, soaked in anxious sweat. Her ears ringing with grotesque memory… the sound of meat ripping from bone. The hiss of a dying breath where it spattered through a gaping hole made by Anhur claws…
She tore her gaze away from his face, horrified. Banishing the specter with faded blue eyes behind several forceful blinks. Her breath leaking between dry lips, heart drumming inside her skull. Rushing in her ears.
And so she remained, cowering in the dirt, breath shallow enough to make her head spin, her lips tingle. Eyes squeezed shut until she heard the crunch of retreating boots.
The moment had passed. Hadim already back in his seat.
Desperate to escape, she continued her retreat.
Muscles trembling with exertion. Sweat soaking through her under-layer, making the greasy film of fat turn to liquid that threatened to drip into her eyes. Her open mouth.
And when she was far enough away, when she could run without the fear of discovery, she couldn’t resist any longer.
Succumbing, she collapsed with one hand stuffed between her legs. Fingers squelching in the sodden mess she found there. Knowing that without a knot to squash her Biquea glands—milking them of the opiate that would soothe her burning nerves—she’d be unable to do anything but make it worse. It was the unique anatomy of a knot, designed to keep her docile, tame, and sedated so she could be seeded with the next generation of warriors.
Groaning, she pulled out her carved cock, sinking to her knees in the dirt. Pleasure shivering through her muscles as the smooth wood slid between her lips.
Hadim’s face—whole and without the horrific scars—flashed behind her lids. Teeth bared in a ravenous, mocking grin…
Gasping, she forced her eyes open. Staring at the canopy above.
Half-naked, stuffed with a wooden prick with no knot, she couldn’t get there. The orgasm bubbling beneath her skin couldn’t compete with her seething hatred for the master who’d made her a whore.
But…
What would it hurt? To go back without a plan, bend over, and demand to be mounted. To let him see her for the fierce, wild creature she’d become?
Shaking now, she fought to stand. Letting her cock slip free, it fell discarded in the leaf litter. Her cloak hanging from narrow shoulders, gaped wide and baring all. Fingers catching at a low branch, sticky and shining in the dim light, reeking of slick. Fertility.
“By the Nine,” she whispered, sweating freely as lethargy washed over her. Hip pressed to the tree trunk, her gaze fixed on nothing as her chin tipped forward. Her level of awareness plummeting and distorted. “No…”
She had to get back. To her den… her nest. Before Hadim…
“Hadim’s coming,” she mumbled, pupils expanding in a dazed ring. One ear tipped forward, the other back. “Have to lure them.” Tasting the air, she pushed her fingers through tangled hair. Head tipping to the side, her brow knit in confusion. “No…” A lazy shake of her head. “Laid a trail already…” She took a step—stumbled. Her ears flicking forward and back, twitching at every tiny sound. “Just have to wait…”
Thighs tacky as she stumbled along, she tripped over a fallen log. Her palms skinning before she caught herself. Panting. Disoriented.
Eyes glassy, her ears drooped. Jaw hanging slack as slick oozed between plump lips. Making her shudder as it dripped.
“Please…” she whispered, her voice splintering around a keening wail. Hands flying to the bones framing her mound, where it hurt and throbbed. “Please…”
She needed a knot. To be mounted and stretched.
But not… that knot.
Determination sharpened her gaze. A beacon of defiance shining bright in the fog, she trudged on. Following the river back to her den.
Hadim would never get the chance to see her grow round with his brats.
She wouldn’t let him.
“Just have to… soak in the water,” she said, shuddering. Every step sending a bolt of agonized pleasure zinging through her nerves. “Glands will be smaller”—a gasp hissed through her teeth—“heat will be better.”
The smooth red stone came into view as she rounded a corner, the fog thick with a biting edge of sulfur. Thermal vent actively bubbling where it hissed and spit, lending a tempting twist of warmth to the evening breeze.
“Heat…” Luminous eyes turned into the warm wind. “Heat makes it better,” she said, heading not to the cooling creek, but to the hot springs.
Confused, helpless, she dropped into the uppermost hot spring with a low hiss as the heat seeped deep into her muscles.
Core temperature spiking, and with it, her arousal.
Slick gushed between her legs, mixing with each swirl of heated water. Filling the pool with the potent pheromones unique to her pedigree… before it was carried downstream.
Chapter 10
Clenching his fist just to feel his claws extend, the Alpha stared into the flames.
Blind in his right eye. Depth perception ruined, the wounds still festered all these many moons later. And yet, it always took a moment to adjust to the black wall that was his new blind spot.
“It’s looking better,” Sickle said, dabbing at the corner of the Alpha’s ruined eye with a warm compress. Tending old wounds with a delicate touch—a welcome relief to the heated, ever-present itch of lingering infection.
A parting gift from his father.
“I think using the scarab beetles improved the scar tissue,” Sickle said, squinting, a frown creasing the Hathorian’s tattooed brow as he manipulated the tight, thick skin. “Does it still itch?”