A squawk of protest ruptured her inky glare, leaving fatal cracks he would exploit to his advantage.
And with a sneer, Sinadim swept away the last of that sad excuse for a nest. Pleased to see her scramble after her precious treasures—utterly lost to her instinct—he confiscated sticks, leaves, moss, and other findings from the forest floor. His smile growing cruel. “It looks like our little bitch needs to learn to build a proper nest.”
The female growled, the insult igniting her temper. Challenging her on a primal level, he continued. “Submission doesn’t come easy to you, does it, Omega?” he asked and made her look. Forced her pretty face back with a fist in her midnight locks and caught her gaze in an unblinking glare.
“We’ll teach her, brother,” Balkazar said, prowling toward them. Cock in fist, he thumbed a pearly drop beaded at his tip. “She’ll learn to serve on her back. Where she belongs.”
At that, she transformed. In one instant, a softening female entranced by a male worthy of breeding her—in the next, a wild thing. Twisting and thrashing, she oozed from his grip. Launched herself at the war chief with a vengeance worthy of an Anhur queen. Her ripe state and nudity utterly forgotten.
And though Balkazar caught her easily, she continued to rage. Howling and untamed, leaving red streaks across the war chief’s chest until he managed to catch her wrists. Until he spun her to face her Alpha and pressed against her back with a shudder of male satisfaction.
Sinadim grinned, for he would enjoy seeing her humbled before her season had ended. Filled and soiled. Marked with their scent. Their teeth and claws. The constant breeding triggering her eggs to drop so she might be seeded properly.
Pregnant.
Theirs forever.
Grinning, he touched his thumb to her bottom lip and nearly lost skin between the snap of blunt teeth. He was eager to see her broken in and tamed, tied to their every depraved whim. But a natural season posed certain… problems. Demanded the proper etiquette be followed, she would need to be enticed instead of forced to ovulate.
It was the ruling elite’s greatest held secret, something Sinadim was sure even Balkazar didn’t know. That during a natural season—one without suppressors forcing their hormones to spike, their eggs to ripen—Hathorian females could refuse to ovulate until a suitor pleased them.
Or simply not at all.
Micah and Sickle returned, the pack’s worldly possessions slung over their shoulders. And with eyes downcast, they dumped their offerings outside of the nest. Clean and dirty underthings, unworn jackets, a spare roll of raw leather—it was all of it precious to a nesting Hathorian female.
Keeping his secrets, Sinadim simply watched when Balkazar released her, retreating to the outer edge of her nest. Content to observe as she rooted through their things. Selecting the finest leather with a dainty, high-pitched coo. A hum of approval she couldn’t contain. Couldn’t hide, for with a stuttering purr, she rubbed her face against the fine material.
Delight lit her features, altering her appearance once more. Displaying a glimpse of the obedient breeder she could be, Sinadim watched her twist in the worn leather. Turning in circles, her back flexing, then contracting where her tail would have been. Everything they owned coated in her scent, in the slick bubbling from her swollen slit.
It was a marvel. Ancient ritual no longer in fashion amongst the ruling Anhur, enthralling nonetheless.
“Take your fill before I seed her again, brother,” Sinadim said, pumping his length from root to tip, the bulge of an eager knot twitching against his palm. “I won’t wait much longer.”
Weathered face splitting in a devious grin, Balkazar lunged. A slender ankle seized in his fist despite the outraged squawk muffled inside that nest. The war chief caught her heel when it struck out at his face, both ankles captured and made to widen. Gooey petals peeled apart when her thighs were forced to spread, her face and chest left ensconced and buried.
“Beautiful,” Balkazar groaned and pressed lips to her cunt. His tongue flicking back, over frilled labia and toward her clenching asshole, he scooped up every drop of slick he could reach. Nose mashing against her prominent clit, oblivious to the taste Sinadim had left gushing from deep inside. It was the only way to induce his rut. To taste her slick and keep drinking once he’d emptied himself. The ultimate male aphrodisiac so many of the ruling elite were addicted to.
Dainty hands settled on Balkazar’s shoulders, bracing as he shifted and sucked that little bean into the heat of his mouth. Pushing against a male scumming to the rut, she was helpless against his need. Left to writhe as he nursed on swollen, engorged nerves, her legs flexed over his shoulders.
Sinadim paced around them, content to watch until the war chief withdrew. Robbing her of climax the instant her legs began to shake. Balkazar spread her then, showing Sinadim how her slit fluttered and clenched. Her Biquea glands inflamed, glowing red. Begging to be stuffed. Stretched and abused.
With a snarl, Sinadim shuddered. His mane bristling as he allowed another to take his place, fighting to honor the terms of the blood pact. To restrain himself. But it was a struggle, a war of endurance he was neither winning nor losing. On the surface, still, but for the stroking fist and twitching muscles. His mind, on the other hand, was a blur of rage. Fantasy and horror blending, he saw himself tear Balkazar’s spine from his rib cage, drinking down yellow spinal fluid while the light in his eyes faded.
The breeder his, alone.
Shivering on the edge of madness, the Alpha approached with cock in fist, dropping to his knees at the edge of her nest. His chest vibrating with a prolonged, vicious growl. A warning he couldn’t help issuing with Balkazar so near, the other male taking the cunt he’d already marked as his.
Eyes hooded as he worked her tight sheath, Balkazar took no notice. Accustomed to his Alpha’s temper—especially with a breeding Omega.
Guessing where her head should be, Sinadim rooted around in the twisted leathers until his fingers encountered wet, ropey snarls of hair. He pulled and revealed the Hathorian’s pretty face.
“You did a devious thing,” Sinadim growled, scraping at her scalp with the tips of his claws. “Trying to evade us, to satisfy your heat without an Anhur knot?” He sneered, and tipping her face back, thrust forward. The tapered head of his prick smearing her lips with a sheen of want. “Your willful temper offends the Nine, Omega. And you’ll be punished, but first”—he gazed into her heat-blackened eyes, letting her take a sip, pink tongue laving his slit—“you’ll take my cum down your throat.”
She whimpered as Balkazar filled her, not daring to so much as blink away from her Alpha. The male she thought was Hadim.
Bristling, Sinadim snarled down at her. Made her really look and see that his eyes were not the same shade as Hadim’s. The slant of his brow, high cheek bones, and thick, sandy hair were all his mother’s best features.
Defiance shimmered in her gaze. Sulky hatred, though she was properly enthralled. But not a hint of recognition beyond the dull hatred for her master.
Stooping, Sinadim lay a bruising kiss to swollen lips, then pried her jaws apart. Feeding her two fingers, he reached passed her gag-reflex. “You’re going to let the war chief fill your pretty little pussy”—she gagged, flexing around Balkazar’s shaft hard enough to make him gasp—“and then you’ll take it in the ass.” Sinadim paused, probing her throat while his second pumped between legs spread obscenely wide. Grinning as the battle to simply watch raged within. “We’re going to keep you fat and lazy with Anhur sperm,” he said, her throat making a squelching hiccup around invasive fingers. “Anywhere you’ve been touched before will be seeded properly. And what will you say after each knot?”