The man beneath him screamed, then lashed out with his elbow, knocking Shiloh on the chin.
He struck back, imbedding the entire five-inch blade through the tender part of the man’s armpit. This wasn’t about torture, not today, so instead of leaving it there and enjoying the screams, he tore it free and drove it through the side of the man’s neck next.
Shiloh didn’t remove it a second time, leaving it and the slowly dying body, on the floor. He stood and dusted off hishands, though all that really did was smear the blood, then spun on his heels and made his way back to his alpha.
The side of the stairwell entrance that had shielded them had also prevented Sarang from witnessing much of the slaughter, but when Shiloh stepped into view, covered in crimson, his deeds must have been easy to visualize.
“Stop fighting it,” Shiloh suggested as he approached. He’d kept up a steady stream of seductive pheromones as soon as he’d finished with Arlo, and paused to take in the sight of his alpha writhing in obvious hunger.
There was a noticeable wet spot between Sarang’s legs, the black jeans doing nothing to hide it underneath the harsh orange glow of the parking garage’s lighting. His shirt had been torn open slightly from the scuffle, a few buttons undone to show a swath of golden skin, glistening with sweat. His brow was pinched, burgundy lips parted, and his wrists were already chaffed and cut from where he’d fought against the cuffs.
“You’ve been lying to me about a lot,” Sarang growled, “Prince.”
“You wanted a docile omega,” he said. “I was trying to be that for you.” Recalling their conversation, he scoffed. “What? Someday you’ll find someone you want to spend your life with? I can’t believe you had the gall to say that to me. I’m not the only who’s been keeping secrets, Rang.”
Slowly, he began removing his clothing, starting with his jacket and then his shirt. He left bloodstains in his wake, everywhere he touched, but that was neither here nor there. Being messy had never bothered him, and he certainly didn’t have an aversion to bodily fluids.
“What are you doing?” Sarang’s eyes widened. “Stop this.”
“Don’t want to.” Not again. Never again.
“You’ve been strange ever since you met with Diogenes,” the alpha surprised him by concluding. “Tell me, did he do something to you?”
Shiloh snorted. “What could Dio possibly do to me?”
“He’s alpha, and he—”
“You’re alpha.” His pants came undone next, but he paused to remove his shoes first. “I’m overpowering you right now, aren’t I? If you can’t handle me, Sarang, what makes you think Dio can?”
“I’ll ask again,” his voice held a thread of warning. “What are you doing, Shiloh?”
“My alpha.”
“What?” He really looked like he didn’t get it. “Put your clothes back on! We’re out in the open!”
“No one will come here. We can proceed uninterrupted.” The perks of owning the entire building. “My brother is off planet, and it’s your birthday. Everyone knows you’re with me. No one would dare seek you out now. Well,” he angled his head over his shoulder, “aside from our dead friends over there.”
Sarang’s gaze shifted in that direction, then quickly snapped back to Shiloh. “Since when have you been able to fight like that?”
“That?” He wiggled out of his pants, then hooked his thumbs in his black boxer briefs and stepped out of those as well. “That was nothing. If you’d bothered to ask around the old Hierarchy, you could have easily learned that I surpassed all of my instructors growing up, including the previous Dominus.”
Shiloh could get the jump on his alpha mother by the age of sixteen. If he or Sloane had truly wanted to be the next leader of the Eumia, they would have been.
“I haven’t tried sparring with Kian,” he continued, one hand reaching down to cup himself, lazily palming his dick to urge it to rise to the occasion. His seductive pheromones couldbe used even if he himself wasn’t turned on, and he needed to get there to move onto the next part of the plan. “Neither of us have had any interest. It’s possible he’ll best me, despite our different upbringing, since he’s a dominant alpha. It doesn’t really matter. He and I have long since come to an agreement.”
“Agreement about what?” Sarang was still struggling against desire, but his eyes were firmly locked onto where Shiloh was covering himself with his hand now.
“I traded the crown for something I actually wanted. Kian got the throne, and I was given a guarantee he wouldn’t interfere.”
“Don’t.” The alpha pressed back against the wall when Shiloh took a step closer.
If this had been a year ago, Shiloh wouldn’t have reacted, but he found himself envisioning that cold, concrete room he’d been tossed into all over again.
The way his body had ached, his muscles taut. How disgusted and filthy he’d felt when his hole had clenched in violent anticipation when the strange alpha had been brought into the room next. Most of their forced breeding was a blur—Shiloh couldn’t even picture the Leviathan’s face—but he remembered that monstrous external organ and the way it’d brutally punched into him on repeat.
The Leviathan had bred him like he’d been disciplining him. As though Shiloh was nothing more than an unruly omega the Dominus of the White Frost had decided to get in line. He’d been just as gone to his induced rut as Shiloh had been a slave to his heat, and yet there’d been a cool detachment that had made Shiloh’s frantic, burning desire feel like weakness.
Despite the almost clinical nature of his breeding methods, the Leviathan hadn’t hurt him. Most alphas lost to rut like that would have been destructive in their frenzy.
