Chapter 38
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Zazt, Zolkan, and I had a secret signal, once upon a time.
It was my idea, of course. Something to get us out of boring assemblies. Or alert one another whenever we planned to sneak out of the barracks to chase tail.
At first, I think I’m imagining the whistle. Three short bursts—two low, one high. Mimicking the signature chirp of the scaly, high-flying kirrl.
It’s like seeing a ghost.
The last time I heard that, it was Zazt. Signaling to us from the wreckage of his ship. Trying to help his frantic brother find him among the flaming shards of metal.
Instead, I found him.
Just in time to hear the bastard’s last words.
Most of them were garbage. No one warns you about that, before you become a soldier. They don’t tell you that half of your friends will die, and the shit they spout in their final moments won’t make any sense.
Except for one thing.
Help him, Rask.
Well.
Fuck.
I follow the whistles to the Dome’s hallway—a long one that stretches from the palace’s attached communal space to its private entrance. Sure enough, Zolkan is there.
With the little omega.
I’ve avoided her for the last two days out of absolute necessity.
The last time we attempted to spar, I very nearly went into a rut.
Every hour since has been plagued by insane notions about sneaking back up to her chamber, gathering her into my arms, and flying off where no one will ever find either of us again.
Given that would be akin to putting a bounty on Sofi’s head, I figured it was best I keep my distance until I got myself straightened out.
But being this close to her is like a drug. My blood sings, cocks filling with sizzling seed. Reacting to the wrongness of her scent. And the rightness of it, too.
It’s clear she isn’t well. I already knew that, though. It’s some innate sense I can’t shake. Even as I spent the last couple of days doing everything I could to stay away, I found physical separation didn’t matter.
No matter where I am, I can hone in on this instinct as surely as the beats of my hearts. It ticks at my center, recalibrating by the second. Telling me if the omega is safe.
And when she isn’t.
Zolkan isn’t, either. The king’s musk slams into me, along with her slicing perfume. The combination makes my knees go slack for a second.
Fuck, fuck, FUCK.
She already smelled perfect. How is his overpowering aroma making it better? Shouldn’t that be impossible?
It’s true, though. Her perfume is both more alluring and more alarming. Needful.
I’d recognize that scent anywhere. Could pick it out of an ocean of omegas. Drown myself in it. Die a happy male.
But no, not now. Because right now? She needs me.
She needs someone, I correct internally. Although with the way Zolkan visibly holds his breath, keeping an arm’s length of space between their bodies, I guess it isn’t going to be him.
Seriously. What is the matter with this fucker? Is he a monster?
“Little one,” I huff, rushing toward her. Zolkan has his hand clamped around her upper arm, and he all but shoves her toward me. I catch her automatically, folding her small frame into my chest.
She shivers against me, moaning.
Did I mention—FUCK?
My purr roars to life when she rubs her cheek against my scaled sternum. I say her name, but she doesn’t even look up—her eyes are wide and dilated, glazed with the lust spiking her temperature and her scent.
They trail over my bare shoulder, catching on the brands burned into my skin. She parts her plump lips and licks one.
Morfu’s dick. This is worse than last time.
Or better, according to my cocks.
Zolkan isn’t faring much better than our omega. His gaze is almost entirely black, his chest heaving on purred growls. “We have to hurry,” he manages, nearly edging into a ruff. “Now.”
What the hells is he talking about?
Years of ingrained hatred have me curling my lip back in a fang-baring sneer. “We?”
Zolkan grinds his jaw so hard, I hear it. This time, he can’t keep the dominance from seeping into his voice.
“You’re going to fuck her,” he announces. “And I’m going to watch.”