Rattling her chains, Renegade growled. Patted his deflated cock, and said, “Indulgent? When this only hardens for my mate? When he won’t visit me, and sends the Second and Third in his place?”
“Queens don’t pout,” Sickle replied, catching her lip between forefinger and thumb, though his penis didn’t rise to the challenge the way his voice did. “We have a war brewing. If the Ferine are as grotesque as that trophy would suggest, we’ll need a bigger army than we’ve got.”
“Am I to service them all?” Renegade said, turning her back on her counterpart. Clawing at the itchy spots at the base of her tail, she cut him with a coy glance, and said, “Or are you going to help with all those cocks, my sweet Sickle?”
Sickle caught her wrist, stopped her from itching, and guided her into furs saturated with pack scent. Face down. Stripping her of the modest leather wrap Camille had dressed her in. “Stop that. And maybe,” he purred, licking at Giaus’ mark on her shoulder. “If my Queen will share.”
“Didn’t ask me to share before you lifted your tail for Giaus,” she said. Sulking.
Sickle’s laugh burrowed deep against her nape, and with a huff, he sat on the backs of her thighs. The little male working strong fingers into the tension knotting the length of her spine. “I think my wildling Queen is litter-bound.”
“Mmm,” she groaned, stretching beneath him. A nesting purr taking up residence in her chest. “What’s that mean?”
He set a playful mark over the spot where her pulse tapped out a lazy rhythm. “My Queen is bored.”
Renegade stiffened beneath him, casting a baleful glare over her shoulder. “What gave it away, hmm? Was it the chains? Or maybe it was the other night when I threw all of you out and screamed myself hoarse? Or could it have been—”
“Hush,” Sickle said, clapping a hand over her mouth, no matter the danger to his digits. “Have you forgotten already, hmm? I’ve just put in a great deal of effort to get Giaus’ mood to soften. Now be silent and grateful, my Queen. And let me rub your back.”
Mollified, because he really was spoiling her, Renegade settled. Smirking into the furs that were heavy with the scents she couldn’t escape. Wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to be rid of them any longer, even if she could only admit it to herself.
Groaning, she let Sickle work. Tail flicking over his thighs. Trying to imagine the pass of his talented fingers as they moved down her back. Releasing the stress of being a breeding Queen with nothing but a firm touch and gentle Omega purr. Over ribs, marking her spine. Cradling narrow waist. Tilting her hips.
Didn’t realize she was purring until Sickle’s attention settled on her tail—and he stopped. With a dainty, surprised little gasp.
“What?” Renegade slurred, and forced swollen lids to open. “Why’d you stop?”
“Your tail,” he whispered, and she felt his temperature rise. “It’s… it’s…”
Propping herself up, Renegade twisted until she could see the precious thing from the corner of her eye. “Fur coming in? Good. Was starting to look—”
“No,” Sickle said, face going ashen. Sweaty palms tapping the spot she’d made raw with her claws. “It’s… it’s still growing.”
Chapter 16
Micha’s head lolled back, braced against the back wall of the breeding shed. Grateful for the bucking hips of an eager pussy speared on his cock. Groaning, for this Beta female was not the same as the one he’d had before she’d fallen to the killing fever. This was another female altogether—one who knew what it was to succumb to their Queen’s pheromones. Will, ethics, and morality be damned. That he’d once taken her through her tears and begging, knowing it was wrong but unable to temper his actions, wasn’t the Queen’s fault.
He knew that.
Wasn’t trying to make excuses, either. If he’d been stronger, if he’d been able to resist the scent of pussy and cum, he might not have done it. Over and over and over again.
But once he’d had a taste…
Micha shook his head. A Beta female couldn’t match the stamina of an Omega Queen.
But pussy was pussy, and since Giaus had taken their pack, he’d been forbidden from indulging himself between Renegade’s thighs. By the fires, he could scarcely think of anything else! That sweet tightness when he’d forced himself in. The debased sounds she’d made when he’d taken her throat?
Snarling against Camille’s chest, he caught one nipple between forefinger and thumb. Another between his teeth. Making the Beta squeal and buck as she rode him. The cum of his brothers squishing and bubbling from a well-used cunt.
For a while, he’d blamed Giaus for all of it. Hated his King for making it easy to take advantage of a terrified, helpless female when the Queen herself was willing. Calling for her Betas to service her every carnal whim. He’d hated Giaus until their tails had come back, and then? Oh, then it didn’t matter what comfort Renegade had been able to offer, nor how much slick he could tease from that magical little slit. Didn’t matter how many times Camille had cried or begged for relief.
Giaus had his loyalty.
Renegade had his heart and soul and mind.
And perhaps, if he worked hard enough and served as warrior to the pack, claimed a few Ferine heads himself… perhaps Giaus would allow him to mount the Queen once more. As he’d done for the Alphas.
Perhaps he’d even be permitted to plant a few kits in her womb and see his line continue.
The thought saw his balls begin to tighten. Muscles rippling beneath dark skin and darker shadows, Micha wrapped himself around Camille. Crushing her tight against his chest as he reined her in. Forced her to stop wriggling atop his meat, and began to fuck her from below. Hard. Cockhead battering against her cervix, he knew she was close. Could smell the rabid loss of control as it rose. The sweet tension. And though she didn’t have slick to ease the way, her natural juices mixed with the copious offerings of the other Betas was plenty enough. Enough to make his balls fight gravity as they slapped her ass cheeks nice and red.
“Y-Yes!” Camille stuttered, head falling back to reveal the slender length of her throat. Unmarked and unclaimed. “Fuck me! Oh, by the nine—yes.” Her cunt bore down, trying to hold him still.
Micha snarled, feeling his seed rise. And, fighting her, he ignored the glassy film that covered her eyes. Focused only on the delicate flutter of muscles surrounding his dick. Focused on driving into her until those clamping, milking muscles drew him out.
She made a series of wordless pleas. Flopping forward in the throws of her orgasm. Forehead pressed to his shoulder, he felt wetness there. As if she’d lost control and had begun to drool.
There was nothing Micha liked half so much as fucking a female senseless. It was a skill he’d honed over years. Using his natural endowment, patience, and attention to those tiny details that spoke of building female pleasure, Micha had learned to master the pussy. Of any caste.
Such a thing could not be said of his Alphas, and though it was forbidden, Micha had often clung to that secret pride. Took a great deal of hubris in the art of preparing a female for her Alpha. Of knowing she’d come to him first, begging and cooing. Lifting her tail, just for him.
Yes, he’d hated Giaus for taking that from him. For locking Camille in a breeding shed and preventing the Betas from finding relief in a willing female.
Now?
Grunting, he came. Pumping ropes of thick sperm into the female who’d snarled at him. Demanding he service her, Camille had stopped him from finishing his task at the wall by taking a literal handful of his cock and balls, and dragged him to the shed she’d once been forced to endure. Cum dripping in squishy clumps down her thighs. Spattering her back and mane and tail—marking every inch of skin with the scent of his Beta brothers.
Twitching, his pumping hips began to slow as his well ran dry.
Camille’s throat began to rattle against his shoulder. The female uttering a battered, grateful purr that broke through the Que
en’s pheromones and seemed to say, “See me! I’m here too!”
Guilty, for he’d thought of the Queen to make himself cum, he licked her cheek. Nuzzling against heated flesh. Even wished, for one moment of insanity, that he could set his mark and stuff her full of a knot. Claim her. Keep her for himself and fill her womb with tiny versions of him, just to watch her tits swell. To taste her mother’s milk and care for her every need…
“What’s your name?” she asked, rocking against him. Dragging the last few drops of cum from his shaft and making him gasp.
“Micha,” he returned, not insulted in the slightest. For if he hadn’t been a part of the raiding party that had claimed her from the Krust, he wouldn’t have known anything about her, aside from the taste of her cunt and how deep he could force his prick.
“Good at that,” she whispered, reaching between them to cup swollen pussy lips. Shuddering. “Too good.”
Micha grinned, tweaked a nipple. “I know.”
For a moment, they shared something deeper than lust. Something that wouldn’t wash off in the hot spring.
And then, from outside, there was a commotion. Giaus’ name being called. Sickle. The Omega male’s voice raised in what Micha could only assume was panic.
Making a fleeting moment of eye contact with Renegade’s handmaiden, he allowed her to scramble off his lap. Took only the briefest instant of smug pride in the sheer volume that spilled from an over-stretched hole, then said, “Stay here. Until we know what it is, stay here, Camille. The way you smell right now?” He shook his head, tugging leathers over cum-slicked thighs. “No male could resist. Let alone one of Giaus’ mindless Ferine.”
Trembling, stinking of fear and copious breeding, Camille nodded. Watched him stuff his semi-hard cock into his pants, and said nothing more.
Micha pulled on the mental armor that made him worthy of calling himself Beta. A warrior—and the best they had. Shoulders bunched with tension, hackles standing on end, his gaze flicked around the compound. Looking for intruders, threats, anything that might have raised the alarm and frightened Sickle enough to make him cry for their King.
But there was nothing.
Nothing out of place. No invading army of Ferine or otherwise.
Only a crowd gathering around the nesting pit.
Slipping between his pack brothers until he’d claimed a place at the edge, he looked down. At first, unable to see what had them all worked up.
“How is this possible?” Sickle breathed, forcing a hand through tousled brown hair. Made it stand on end as if he’d done it a few dozen times already. “Are… is she infected with”—the Omega swallowed, hard, blinking back tears that stank of panic—“is it the Ferine strain of Trax?”
Giaus chuffed, catching the Omega male with a friendly smile, of all things. “No, boy. Not that.”
“Then…” Sickle trailed off, shaking his head. And those tears spilled over.
“The Trax takes us all as it will,” the King rumbled, pulling a squirming Renegade ass-up over his knee. Petting at her tail that… wasn’t quite right…
“But this,” Sickle said, shaking his head once more. At a loss for words.
Frustrated, Micha pushed forward, straining to see.
And gasped.
For there, between Giaus’ meaty fingers, on either side of her glorious, black tail, were two new nubbins of growth.
Three tails.
Their Omega Queen had three tails.
Chapter 17
Giaus stood sentinel at the mouth of the nesting pit and watched his pack as they worked at the wall. Legs spread. Arms crossed over burly chest, he watched them reinforce the barrier that wouldn’t keep them safe. Couldn’t. Not from the Ferine. Not for long.
Life beyond the Krust was a hard one, made all the worse by taking on a pack, a Queen, and now a wild little female kit. The first of many, he was sure, for no matter her reservations about breeding, Giaus could tell his mate would take to motherhood with the same ferocity that had made her worthy of a position at his side. If he had to give her a little push? Foster a nudge that would see her nesting instincts enraged, then the King would do so without a scrap of remorse.
Guilt was not a luxury meant for Kings.
He heard her long before she could manage to approach. Listened to the jarring clank and rattle of her chains scraping over the stone steps as she climbed from the nest—he knew it rankled her. Fingertips tapping his biceps, Giaus’ lips twisted in a bitter smirk, for Renegade’s temper never failed to make his prick swell.
And he’d do nothing about it, unless it was beneath the tail of an Omega male, apparently.
“What’s your problem?” she barked. Elegant as always. Cutting and to the point.
“I have many problems, mate,” he rumbled, glancing down at her. Hackles rising in delicious challenge that would go unanswered. “Be more specific.”
She bared her teeth, the audacious little thing. Refused to acknowledge his strength or caste, and dared a saucy, defiant glare. “You put these kits in my belly,” she snapped. “Why haven’t you fucked me since then? I don’t know much about rearing young, but I’m certain the absence of your continued attention, and lack of their sire’s seed will do them no good.”
Going very still, Giaus worked at an air of nonchalance. “An old milkmaid’s tale. Nothing more. You’ll have as much as you can handle, mate. You’ll have enough to bathe in, if that’s what you wish.”
Renegade eyed him, then. Catching what wasn’t said. “But not yours? Why? You should be sick with possessive rut, Giaus. You shouldn’t be able to stand the presence of other males in my nest, let alone allow them to fuck me silly day and night. Every inch of my skin should be marked by your teeth, and your cum, and yet”—she snapped her fingers, mirroring his posture with arms over chest—“you do nothing but stand here and brood when I should be satisfied by your cock. Not theirs.”
“Go back to your nest and your playthings,” he rumbled, tearing his eyes from the glorious image she presented. His Queen. Hackles fluffed, cheeks flushed. Passionate and fierce, hungry for his attention. His cock. And soon, he knew, she would be swollen and ripe—with another’s young. “My woes are no concern of yours.”
She laughed, low and bitter, and the sound struck him. Deeply. “Might I remind you, Giaus, oh great King in the beyond, that you wanted a Queen. You mated me. I am not content to wear your chains, to grow fat with your kits, if I’m to be treated as a brood-mother and nothing more. These kits need the attention of their sire, or they’ll be born weak. Or still.”
In a rare fit of temper, Giaus snarled. Took her wrists and set her spine against the wall with a thump that forced her breath to puff against his throat. Pleased only that her tail—skinny with growing fur, and separate from the others that were too short to follow—was tucked neatly between her legs. Covering her sex in an instinctive show of submission. “You have plenty of the sire’s attention, Renegade.”
For a moment, silence lay thick and rotten between them.
And then, “You’re not the father.”
Giaus growled. Couldn’t help it, for hearing those words spoken aloud, by his mate, soured something fragile in his chest.
“Well.” She swallowed, dainty wrists twisting in his palms. “Did you think to shock me with that? I expected at least a few of them to be sired by another. That’s how our kind work, after all. We ovulate many times during a single Canicule, and given just how many males I’ve taken these last weeks, it’s not surprising. At all, really. Is that why you’re so pissy?” She laughed, coy and dangerous all in one. “That you have to wait to see kits with your bloodline? By the fires, Giaus, that’s no excuse, you big dumb brute. Get your ass back in my nest and fuck me.”
Taken aback, Giaus couldn’t muster a proper temper. He was merely shocked silent for the second time in a single day, and by Omegas, no less.
“Have you any idea how much it hurts?” she asked, takin
g a step. Forcing him back, she bristled with a singular brand of menace an Omega simply should not possess. “How much it aches to go weeks without a proper knot? To know you amuse yourself with Sickle while I lay about in chains? Pregnant, and in agony.” Twisting, she exposed the silver shimmer of the marks he’d left buried in her mane. Making his prick fill the front of his pants. “I don’t give a fuck who the father is, or why you’ve been keeping that knowledge hidden, you manipulative sadist. I am your mate. I am your Queen. And you will see to your duties.”
Something in Giaus broke as his tiny, wildling mate stood fast and proud before him. And with a snarl, he lifted her up. Stripped away the flimsy fur she’d bound around her nudity, and spread her thighs.
The rut took him by force. Filled his veins with possessive fury that rejected the scent of the other males in his pack, the unborn Omega kits he’d engineered himself, and that this scrap of female dared to command him. An Omega female, challenging him.
Nonsense.
He tore at the laces and freed his cock. Nosing at the scars in her lush fur, breathing deep of the scent of his mate. And through the fog of rutting hormones made all the worse by the Trax, Giaus caught the scent of something wondrous.
A nesting Queen.
Renegade’s temper, her churlish, brazen attitude and outright rejection of the notion of motherhood? It was over—Sickle was right. She’d succumbed to her condition. Giaus could smell it on her.
Fisting his cock, Giaus hiked her leg snug about his hip, and sent his tip through her folds. Smearing his scent where the others had taken liberties. Teasing that swollen bud. Teasing them both.
She moaned. Clinging to his shoulders, Renegade hooked her ankles behind his back and tried to impale herself. Tried to take what he wasn’t ready to give her.
Catching her chain with his free hand, he pulled back, cutting off her airway and forcing her head against the wall. Thrilled by the way her pupils dilated, by the reluctant submission wafting off his fiery Queen. Knowing how much she hated to be submitted only stoked him higher, and with a lusty purr, he seated himself right there against the wall.
Crowning the Renegade Omega WIDE Page 6
