And as Gatlin settled over Viraj with a shaking rumble of satisfaction, he knew one thing for certain.
Viraj had been bred.
Chapter Ten
Viraj
Everything hurt.
Moving a finger sent lightning bolts of pain up his shoulder and arm. Even flexing a toe made his calves spasm in threat of a charley horse. And trying to speak? Nothing came out but a dry rasp.
A bottle of something touched his lips, cool liquid following. Viraj lapped with his cottony tongue and coughed before forcing his hands up to take the bottle and gulp, filling another void within him.
Water. Glorious water. He didn’t care where it came from, but from the kind hum and warm scent, he gathered it was Teige. The firm hand that stroked his cheek? Gatlin. And from the gentle tug and prickle of Viraj’s hair? Gatlin, too.
“Morning?” Viraj’s hoarse voice cracked between sips.
“Don’t exhaust yourself.” Teige stroked Viraj’s chest. “You’re going to be okay.”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” Viraj tried and failed to sit up once more.
“Teige forgot to fill the cooler up before we started, so we’ve been limited to shower water and whatever Violet sent down the elevator when we could call.” Gatlin grumbled as the scent of food—something greasy and salty—permeated his senses.
“How long has it been?” Viraj managed to rolled onto his side, every hole on his body burning. Ass… Mouth… Pee hole. He’d orgasmed the poor thing raw.
“Eight days.” Teige cleared his throat. “We thought you had longer, but your scent died down and the frenzy stopped. We got a message through to Marc and he said you were likely over. First heats can be odd.”
“Ugh, I don’t care. Whatever smells good needs to be in my mouth, like, right this instant.” Viraj flinched at the mechanical rip of a zipper. “And it better not be a cock.”
The rip halted and slowly clicked, as if pulled the opposite way.
“Love the enthusiasm, dear.” Gatlin laughed as paper bags crinkled and the rich scent of fryer grease, potatoes, bread, and chicken made his mouth water. His arms acted before his mind did, grabbing the chicken sandwich and raising it to his mouth for an unreasonably large bite.
“I smell burgers.” Viraj grumbled as he sat up, ignoring the fire in his muscles with a groan. An enormous cold soda found his trembling hand, and Viraj drank greedily.
“Buffalo.” Teige crumpled a wrapper as he tore into something.
Viraj nodded. Dragons never really had religion, but the world’s largest population of cow shifters resided in India, and a good deal of them were servants to dragon families. The thought of accidentally eating one made him ill.
And the last of the buffalo shifters had died a long time ago, unfortunately.
So, their meat was safe, to a degree, but Viraj still didn’t eat it. His mates, however, avoided beef on his behalf. If it’d been goat, though, Viraj would have snatched one from Teige’s mouth just for the protein. Viraj grabbed another sandwich offered to him, one in each hand. “I love you two. So much.”
“Us or the chicken sandies?” Gatlin snorted, and Viraj glanced from the lettuce, pickle, and mayo-topped sweet-bun-encased delights to his ragged mates.
“Eh.” Viraj grunted between bites. “The chicken sandwiches didn’t fuck me raw and forget to feed me.”
A sharp cramp shot through his stomach, deep in his belly, making him double over with a huff of irritation. “Fuh!”
The mouthful of sandwich he’d been choking down nearly tumbled out.
Gatlin and Teige gave one another sidelong glances full of curiosity, a secret conversation that Viraj desperately wanted to know. He rubbed at his stomach and huffed. “Say it.”
“Cramps… It may be a sign of blanks or—” Teige petered off, his gaze drifting off.
Gatlin waved his hands dismissively. “We’re not even going to entertain that option. You’re our mate regardless of whether you can or will ever have pups.”
Viraj finished one of the sandwiches and rubbed his belly. He thought about being full of cum, about holding his full stomach and wishing that it could be. “And if it happens?”
