Page 56

The whisper was unbearably fragile.

A bubble.

This… tender landscape sculpted from the ashes of horror… it wasn’t real.

It couldn’t last.

There was always another hidden blade waiting to be twisted. Another uprising to be fought in the name of petty Anhur politics.

But he couldn’t help but want that bubble to last. To harden it with all his heaps of Karahmet gold and seal it in a capsule none could burst.

It was foolish.

A childish impulse a Firstborn Karahmet prince shouldn’t indulge.

But with the scent of sleepy, gravid Omega pressed to his chest, he found himself… wavering. Swayed toward the fantastical. Protective of the fragile thing who clung as she slumbered, unperturbed even as he walked the length of the palace, trying to shield his precious bundle from prying eyes.

He set her down in the sprawling bed perched in the center of the master suite. Watching for a moment, as her instincts kicked in. As she turned and twisted, burrowing into the fresh linens and heavy sheets. Endlessly fascinated by the nesting instincts of that lesser, primitive species. That they couldn’t resist the primal call of nature as it gripped them about the nape and forced compliance.

Cock growing stiff, Sinadim’s lips crinkled at the edges.

A gruff voice made him flinch, surprised.

“Fascinating sight, eh?” Balkazar asked. “And t’think, all the little slut really wants is more. Even after she’s caught a belly full.”

Sinadim’s mane flared a brief warning, broadcasting the heavy musk of a possessive Alpha male once more.

Clapping him on the shoulder, Balkazar grew flippant and bold. “Eh, don’t get your prissy silken panties in a bunch, brother. We both know which of us has more of ‘er. All I want is a taste now and then. The feel of ripe tits dripping sweet Omega cream into my palms as a belly I made round swings beneath us. Never known such a thing before,” he murmured, trailing off as the scent of male arousal permeated the still air.

Claws dimpling his palms, Sinadim made an effort toward restraint. Forcing himself calm when the lust for carnage threatened to ride him hard and fast.

“Gonna see if the little bitch can take my knot from the outside,” Balkazar drawled, adjusting himself where he’d grown stiff. “See if I can get it through that tight slit, and let her do the work she was meant to do.”

Sinadim forced a nod. Turning away when Balkazar fumbled with his laces and approached the female who’d gone still in his bed. Content in her nest.

Instead, the prince went to the desk in the sprawling master suite. Thumbing through the stacks of reports and letters as the sounds of intimacy began to rustle at his back.

He found it at the bottom of the pile, dated a few short days after he’d taken his Razie into the desert and hunted down a nameless villain.

A tight scroll delivered by falcon.

And there, sealing it shut, the Sultan’s seal pressed into wax.

Ominous in its blend of red on black.

“Ahh,” Balkazar sighed from behind him. Oblivious. “That’s a good little whore, hmm? Always so wet and eager. Take it nice and deep now, all the way to the root.”

Something ominous skated through his sinew as Sinadim extended a single claw to break the seal. Slicing through the soft wax, he unrolled the parchment and tilted the ink into the last rays of sunlight.

“Don’t stop now,” the war chief snarled, gruff and abrasive. “We both know you were made to take it. To take more.” The slap of skin on skin punctuated his words. “There you go. Almost—ugh—almost there. Just a little more, and you can have all the cum you want.”

Sweat beaded across Sinadim’s brow as his eyes flicked across the elegant script written in a hand he’d rarely seen in person.

“Ahh,” Balkazar groaned, deep and raspy as plaintive female mewling grew muffled from beneath the weight of her nest. “See? Just as I said, eh? Easy for one born to do nothing but this. Now milk it. Show me what you were made for. That you’re a tight fit and a warm hole. Worthy to give me a couple of brats.”

Mane bristling, Sinadim trembled as his eyes flicked across that tight and regal scrawl. An ominous shiver that threatened to obliterate the sanctity of this delusional little bubble.

“Brother!” Balkazar growled, voice strained as he neared the end. “Come. Let our slut drink from a royal cup. She’s thirsty for more.”