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His adversary charged again, zigzagging as he avoided Warol’s claws to rip into his shoulder with his strong jaws. Warol roared in pain and struck the male in the chest with all four hands. The dislodged silver went flying, likely taking a good chunk of flesh with him. Warol inspected his wound while keeping his primary eyes on his opponent. The flesh was torn, but the wound didn’t look as deep as it could have been, but the blood was flowing at a rate that concerned him. If he didn’t get back to his brothers soon, he could easily bleed out if he didn’t find something to staunch the flow.
It was obvious by the savage grin that the other male had also noticed. He pressed his advantage and darted in to strike repeatedly without apparent concern for Warol’s fangs and claws. Although blood flowed from the silver’s wounds, but they were sadly only shallow cuts and didn’t slow him down at all. Over and over he dug his claws and teeth in wherever he could reach before darting away again.
Warol knew exactly what the male was doing, and dread soured his stomach. He could hold his own against a male with an intact mind, but a maddened male didn’t care for his own safety. His relentless, suicidal attack would wear Warol down until he’d no longer be able to defend himself.
A triumphant snarl curled the corners of the male’s mouth and Warol knew the silver was coming in for the kill. Warol’s every muscle stiffened to brace for the attack. If he was going to die, he was going to do everything in his power to fatally wound the mad rogue and take him down with him to be judged in the halls of Efru.
A cold blast of wind snapped his braids against his muzzle, and he crouched, eyes trained on his opponent’s belly as his own lifeblood stained the snow all around him. Warol didn’t have the strength to leap forward, but he would use his enemy’s momentum against him. As expected, the male leaped with a frenzied roar but was slammed into by a massive white body, knocking him out of the air.
Warol sat in a daze as the newcomer ripped into the silver with a frenzy before he was joined by a golden flash of fur. Recognition dawned on him. He struggled to maintain consciousness as he watched their bodies slam repeatedly against their target, their movements an earnest dance of power and territorial dominance. The intruder’s eyes rolled with terror. He no longer had a chance of surviving the encounter as Vordri and Mishar tore into the weakened male without hesitation.
Their fury was surprising. Warol was not one of theirs and yet, due to being Kyx’s triad brother, the males were protecting him as if he were their own rog. Vordri jumped onto the male’s back, pushing himself away from the plating with the power of his legs and arms digging into his opponent’s haunches and shoulders. He provided enough leverage that Mishar went in, low and mean, and tore out the silver’s throat with one hand while the others opened his stomach to dump his intestines on the ground.
Warol shivered but not from the gore splattering the snow in front of him but with the cold that was slowly invading through his fur with his blood loss. He blinked at the splatters closest to him and realized that they were not from the silver but from him. That understanding was quickly followed by the realization that he was lying in the snow. His mind was so foggy that he didn’t remember dropping. This would be the second time in as many months that he’d been nearly fatally injured. He could practically hear Rager muttering about how his second was always trying to get himself killed. Warol grinned weakly at the illusion until it was broken by a pair of golden legs in front of him.
He managed to turn his head and looked up at Vordri as the male grunted in amusement. Bending down, Vodri wrapped his thick arms around him, pulling him up off the snow.
“Up you go,” Vordri said warmly. His eyes cut to the side. “You are right, brother. He looks just terrible.”
“How do I look?” Warol asked. If he was going to die, he might as well know. He must have said it out loud because Vordri laughed.
“Don’t worry. You are not going to die. I bet you are too cold to feel it, but Mishar is taking care of the worst of your wounds while I entertain you. Oh, stop looking at me that way, Mishar. We both know I am the funny one. As for how you look, I am sorry to say you look like someone hauled you over a particularly bad patch of sharp rocks. A bit of fur loss, but nothing tragic. It will grow back. You’ll get some impressive scars to show off to your mate, though. Now let us take care of the rest.”
Warol closed his eyes gratefully, allowing himself to sink into oblivion.
When he woke, he was surrounded by his family near the warmth of the fire, his head pillowed on Arie’s lap. Her brow was furrowed in concern as her fingers stroked through his fur. He stretched and nuzzled against her thighs. Rager scoffed just behind him.
“Do you think the next time you leave our sight you can manage to return to us unscathed? It is rather vexing to have to nurse you back to health more than once a year.”
“Now that’s not fair,” Kyx chimed in. “He should at least be allowed one. We could schedule it.” The male laughed.
Warol let out a ragged groan. “I knew you would both have something to say. Are Vordri and Mishar still here?”
Rager shook his head. “No, but they left the buck they had killed to celebrate our mating. Apparently, they heard you roar and followed your scent and that of the stranger until they tracked you. You are fortunate they arrived on time.”
Warol frowned. “How did they know that we’d mated?”
“I believe they said something about being able to hear Arie screaming her pleasure all the way from their den,” Kyx offered with a sly look at Arie, who was slowly turning red. Her lips twitched though, and her blue eyes looked over all of them fondly.
Kyx sighed and looked up hopefully at Rager. “Can we eat now that Warol is no longer looking like he is at death’s cavern?”
Warol snapped his teeth at the infuriating male, but Kyx laughed again and shifted farther out of range. Warol closed his eyes contently. His entire body hurt like it was scraped raw, but he was happy that he was surrounded by his family. Not lying dead in the snow was a plus, too.
Chapter
Twenty-One
Rager grunted, his hips shunting against his female’s warm cunt, his cocks eager. His muscles strained, trying to take it slow as he worked to line his slicked-up pleasure shaft against her ass. His entire body trembled. Over the last few days, they’d been preparing her for more vigorous Ragoru mating activity, at her insistence. He hadn’t taken her completely since the night of their mating, not wishing to cause her any more pain after seeing how tender her ass was afterward. Not wishing to hurt his tiny female, he was content to continue mating in the manner that was typical for humans with their singular womb and channel. But Arie was persistent when she wanted to know something—and she wanted to know about Ragoru mating and breeding. Then she’d demanded they mate that way until her mates reluctantly agreed. So, they’d practiced until she felt ready to try.
His pleasure shaft, which was slightly longer and thinner than his breeding cock, nestled firmly against her opening, and his breath began to puff out in rough exhalations as he slowly pushed the tip through the tight ring of muscles. Arie panted and groaned beneath him, a fine sheen of sweat popping over her skin at this new intrusion. Her cunt and ass were slick with her juices and his saliva from being licked to orgasm just minutes before.
He’d been attentive to this spot in particular as Kyx’s fathers advised him during one of their many discussion of mating and Rager had listened attentively to the instruction on how to best care for their human mate. All his life it had been stressed to him that caring for his mate would be his foremost responsibility. Not just in terms of feeding her and providing shelter, but seeing to her comfort and pleasure during mating. His lead father Garwar had been an even-tempered, quiet male, despite his impressive size and strength. He’d taken over Rager’s education when he was young, determined to raise a rog that would behave in a respectable manner and who would please his mate. Given Arie’s responses, it seemed that his attentiveness was now being rewarded.
Arie whimpered, but she didn’t appear to be in pain.
“Rager, please,” she whispered, her legs tightening around his sides as she attempted to pull him forward into her.
He hesitated. “Rya, I don’t want to hurt you.”
