Giaus (The Feral Court Book 2) by Myra Danvers

Author:Myra Danvers [Danvers, Myra]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Myra Danvers
Published: 2021-07-21T18:30:00+00:00

16

The shock of taboo raced through Sinadim’s blood.

She’d marked him.

The wound small but profound, one among many. But he’d seen it before. Knew exactly what that bloody circlet buried deep in the muscle meant to a Hathorian—what it meant for the Anhur who wore it, knew just how irrevocable a gesture it really was.

Renegade had claimed this beast as her mate, in the way of her people. With blood and scars—and Giaus had allowed it to happen. Encouraged it. By the Nine, he displayed it with the unmistakable glow of pride.

And it had cost him everything.

Even if he didn’t know it yet.

“Move even a muscle,” Balkazar snarled, pressing the spear deeper, “and I’ll tear her off your knot and break every bone in her body before I toss her into the heart of a horde. You understand me, mongrel?”

For a moment, Giaus pinned the war chief with a glare that dredged up long forgotten nightmares of the things that ate monsters.

And then, every inch a deranged feral Anhur, Giaus roared. Deep from the bottom of his massive chest, forehead thumping granite, it was an explosion of frustration and fury. One fist holding Renegade tight to his chest, the other growing dangerously close to crushing Sickle’s throat.

A threat that flirted with action.

But, desperate and unable to do anything at all, Giaus’ back was left exposed. Vulnerable and wounded.

The illusion of easy prey, Sinadim knew, for even wounded, this beast was no easy kill.

Driving the tip of a spear between his ribs had been enough to create a stalemate, but little else. The titan forced to his knees, and yet, Sickle’s throat was still caught in a cage of claws. Choking as his face began to purple.

“Giaus!” the prince shouted, and stepped from the gloom. Intervening before Balkazar ruined everything. Before Sickle’s throat was torn free of its moorings, and Renegade was ripped apart between warring males. His every ounce of focus spent on this one task, a hint of the sweetest victory teasing his senses. Fixated on Sickle, who clawed and fought for a single breath.

After all… a dead Hathorian was a useless one.

“Giaus!” Sinadim called again, his palms raised.

Wicked, gleaming amber eyes slid over Giaus’ shoulder and that breathtaking, insolent glare shifted instead to the prince. Halting Sinadim in his tracks, for it showed nothing of the pain of being impaled, that Giaus feared the pack of jilted males thirsty for the taste of feral blood. Indifferent to being cornered… wounded, a handicap wrapped snug around his dick. No, the titan appeared utterly unconcerned, merely caught in a moment of weakness and waiting for the tension to peak.

For his moment to strike.

And then the prince saw the mark laid down by Hathorian teeth in a new light not tarnished by petty jealousy. His vision cleared of the rut and the lure of an easy victory, he saw through the eyes of a former heir to the Karahmet throne. One who’d been exiled and maimed, who knew what it was to live outside the law.

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