As he met the inky gaze of a female consumed by need, he knew she hadn’t been tamed.
Knew she needed more.
Tears sprang to his eyes, but with a tight swallow, Sickle pushed her off. Withdrawing from her warmth with a sucking pop.
There was nothing for it. The others had to be freed.
His queen needed, and he would provide.
Chapter 16
Eyes bleary, pussy seeded but still aching, she watched the blurry form walk away from her. Leaving her throbbing and hot.
Empty and too full.
“Nooo…” she mewled, trying to crawl after him. Skinning her knees, her palms. Ass swaying as cum and slick spilled from flush, plump lips. Long strings of pearly white reached for the red rock, staining it a deep, murderous red where it dripped and dropped. “Please… please…”
But Sickle ignored her. Walking faster than she could crawl, she watched him approach the other males. The dangerous ones who wouldn’t let her control the pace. Who wouldn’t obey, and couldn’t relate to her on a fundamental level—the way only another Hathorian could.
Sickle abandoned her without a backward glance. A shard of red stone clutched tight in his hand, and even through the fog, she knew what he intended to do. That his loyalties lay with his masters, not his people.
A hiss spattered between her lips, through blunted teeth. Ears pressed flat to her skull, she tried to reverse. To crawl back into her den and hide before it was too late… before she forgot why she should deny the burning need to be stretched out by a thick knot when they were ready and available. Just as needy as her.
“Let us down,” one of the Anhur snarled. Commanding and deep, though she couldn’t tell which had spoken. Hadim or his war chief.
She gushed, hardly understanding the language when Sickle said, “The ropes are… well made.” He cleared his throat. “I-I’m trying, sir.”
And he was.
Blinking lazy and doe-eyed, the female watched Sickle work to saw through the anchor ropes for the first of her three hanging nets. His lips moving in a constant flood of words she could neither hear nor understand.
All she could do was watch. Clenching around nothing—trying to tear her eyes away as the seconds dwindled. Would they let her live after what she’d done? After she’d chosen a Hathorian over them?
Hadim wouldn’t.
Her twisted, fuck-drunk brain could only hope they’d knot her properly before she died. That she might have a few stolen moments of relief before she went into the arms of the Nine.
Cursing, Sickle tried to rush through the last few strands, but it snapped before he finished.
With a startled yelp, a net fell from the trees.
And when she could focus, the girl could see only one figure fighting to get free. Not the Anhur, then, but a hybrid.
He was up before she could lift her head, eyes blazing. Bigger than an Anhur by at least a third, the massive male closed the space between them in three loping strides. He scooped her into his arms without bothering to slow, snarling but a single word. “Konjo.”
His name.
Helpless to resist, she squealed. Pussy convulsing with renewed tension, delighted by the savage absence of this male submitting to the rut. A wild-thing, unleashed. All hers. The hybrid she’d come to claim.
Konjo surprised her, for instead of tossing her down and stuffing her full, he dropped her in the same spot Sickle had bred her. The pool of cooling liquids squished against her skin when he pinned her spine to the earth. Folded her knees to her chest, spreading her wide and vulnerable. Head dipping between soiled thighs, he took a sip straight from the wellspring of two satisfied Hathorians. Tasting Sickle’s salty cum even as he drank deep of slick.
Nothing so filthy had ever turned her on more as watching this strange male lap at her pussy. Nothing so raunchy as knowing he couldn’t help but drink cum both male and female, that he was lost to instinct.
Just as she was.
But when he set his lips to that little knot of tension and sucked her clit into his mouth, everything resembling sentient thoughts evaporated. Exhaled on a breathy groan, forgotten in an instant.
Hips bucking, pinned and helpless beneath a male heavier than she by an absurd margin, she gasped. Hovering right on the edge of climax, yet needing something a little more—
Konjo plunged two thick fingers into seeded quim, utterly void of anything even similar to finesse, and finger-fucked her. Making her juices ooze and burp around his digits, he sent her eyes rolling back. Made her back arch.
When it happened, she hadn’t the faculties to warn him. Could hardly understand what it was, much less think to say something. No, instead, she soaked his face and forearms. Screaming as she squirted all over the hybrid.
Grinning, Konjo didn’t stop. Gave her no other option but to take it as he milked her pussy for every shuddering breath of pleasure it could give.
Her only response was to grunt and flop, fucking his fingers as she rode out her climax—and the next one after it. Pinching her nipples until the little beads turned blue from the abuse. Almost perfect.
Konjo, it seemed, couldn’t help himself after that.
And when next the wild female opened her eyes, it was with a gasp—for she’d been filled with every inch of Konjo’s thick cock in a single, well-lubricated thrust.
He spared nothing for elegance. Gave her no room to adjust, he merely began to rut. Hard and fast, he fucked her into the stone. Pressing her knees into her collarbones as he lost himself. Eyes glassy. Thighs slapping her cheeks, he emptied her of Sickle’s sperm, dragging it from her depths with the anvil scraping her insides clean. Making room for seed that wouldn’t grow.
Pausing only to snarl at the wind, as a starving wolf over a wasted carcass.
Almost unable to draw breath, she settled in to weather it. Just as she’d done whenever Hadim had been in a savage mood. Knowing at this pace, it wouldn’t be long before the rutting hybrid filled and knotted her. That the sparkle of oxygen deprivation would do nothing but heighten her climax when it came.
Hadim had taught her that, too.
Sweat spattered her forehead as Konjo scrambled for better purchase. Driving himself deeper, he forced her cervix to draw back. To make room for the blunt and pounding tool spreading her sodden folds.
Something tightened in her lower back, tracing the edge of her pelvic cradle. Internal muscles growing tight, her glands more and more turgid. Pulsing in agony, even as they tried to clasp at a knot. That delicious contradiction sending her into pre-spasms that saw her eyes rolling back. Delighting in the bruising grip marking the backs of her knees as Konjo held her spread and open.
“Cum—” he snarled, teeth snapping just above her throat, close enough for the threat to break her concentration and derail what was promising to be a powerful climax. “I’m cumming. Ugh! Take it, you filthy Omega bitch. Take it all!” he bellowed, dropping into her one final time, so deep he managed to nudge her cervix and splash his spending across that tightly puckered entrance to her womb.
Spurt after hot, salty spurt Konjo forced into her depths, each blast sprayed deeper with a mighty flex of his ass cheeks. Rocking tight and messy through her channel.
When his defunct sperm began to overflow, the Beta’s knot expanded at last, but given the length of the cock bruising her guts, it wasn’t half the knot she was expecting. Sleek and long, where Sickle had been thick and wide. Konjo wasn’t capable of stopping cum from trickling between the globes of her pale cheeks, much less forcing her Biquea glands into submission.