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Balkazar let go a held breath.

Felt it chatter over his lips as his knuckles grew tight and bloodless where they were clenched inside of his fists.

He shook his head, trying to ignore the way his mane bristled. To ignore his tail and cock and aching, heavy balls. “I’ll leave your provisions here⁠—”

“Enter,” Sinadim said again. This time, a haughty drawl that sent a thrill of warning skating down the war chief’s nape.

Caught.

Between his duty to obey, and knowing that doing so would leave him dangerously exposed to the consequences of the prince’s reckless abandon.

Balkazar sucked air into his lungs. Glanced once at the ominous storm clouds building in the east, and obeyed his prince.

The scent of slick and musk struck him with the force of a sandstorm. Abrading his sense, his restraint, and his iron-fisted control.

At once tempting him to charge forward and find the female in desperate need of servicing, and to flee in the face of a male lost deep in a rut.

He coughed. Blinking as his eyes adjusted to the dim half-light. Until he could see the lewd display spread before him.

Sinadim was sprawled in his bedding. Lounging. One knee lifted, one arm bent where it was folded behind his head. Fully clothed, except for where his laces were loose and his cock was⁠—

Swallowing, Balkazar’s gaze flicked away from the prince’s dick. Away from the creamy glaze shining like a beacon in the gloom—and landed on the plump glistening lips of an oozing, needy cunt.

Omega pussy.

That bent tail was flicked off to the side as she bobbed her head in the prince’s lap. Kneeling between Sinadim’s thighs as she worked.

Jaw clenched, Balkazar cleared his throat and ignored the way his own dick kicked behind his laces. Ignoring the spurt of desperate need that promised to soak the front of his pants.

“As I was saying.” He coughed into his hand, panting through clenched teeth. His every nerve alive and alert, all but cowering before an Alpha male and his chosen female. “We’re in for a heavy sandstorm,” he said, forcing the words through his teeth. “The Razie are bunkered down, set with provisions for several days, and ready to feed and water the Walleri. If there’s nothing else you need from me, I’ve left enough extra bedding to make a passable nest, should you find yourself in need.”

Green eyes shone with a wicked gleam as the prince crooned at his pet, complimenting her perfect mouth.“Would my brave girl like to thank the war chief for being so considerate?” he cooed, pulling her off his dick so he could draw her in close and send two fingers into her mouth. Probing at the back of her throat.

“Would it please my prince?” she returned and reached between them to pump her fist over that royal scepter.

Nodding, Sinadim released her, licking his lips—and green eyes darted up to catch Balkazar in a trap of daring.

Held immobile, pinned between duty, lust, and fear of the consequences, Balkazar was frozen. For the first time in his grizzly life, he was unsure which path to take.

Utterly.

Left stupefied as an emaciated Omega crawled toward him with nothing but the thought of cock in her tiny, primitive brain.

And for her…

… it seemed that any knot would do.

Heart hammering and floundering at the back of his throat, there was hardly time to breathe before she knelt before him. Working his laces free with fingers already sticky with Sinadim’s seed. Already saturated with Sinaidm’s scent.

“Take it out,” the prince whispered, drawing Balkazar’s eyes up. Away from the female, to land on the threat of a possessive male enraged by the violation of this sacred space—a prince’s nest, where a breeding female waited for his attention. Instead, Balkazar found a peculiar heat burning in green eyes. “Show him,” the prince said, “how grateful you are for the opportunity to be bred properly. In a nest of your own making.”

“Thank you,” she murmured, gazing up at Balkazar with eyes gone bottomless and liquid as she slid one slender hand into his waistband.

Balkazar didn’t bother to respond, for she was nothing more than an expensive sleeve for cock. A tight hole for Anhur males—those born better than he—to fill with hybrid brats. Designed to endure, bred on a schedule, she’d take as many loads as it took. Obey whatever depraved whim her master might devise.

One of many.

Faceless.