Page 8 of The Blind Hordesman

He taps the bucket’s rim a few times before picking it up and setting it before me. He then extends his foot, almost kicking me in the face.

I rear back, staring at his boot. “What?”

“Off with it.”

I unlace his giant boot and yank it off along with the sock. “If the smell of feet doesn’t kill me, nothing will.”

The Alpha laughs. “I don’t sweat, but I’ve been out there for weeks. Gonna soak my feet, then you’ll wash them nicely with the finest soap you got. Count your godly blessings I don’t make you wash the rest of me. Yet.”

“I pray to the Serpent.”

The Alpha blinks. “Get out.”

“Seriously.”

“The imposter taught you that?”

“He’s not an imposter. You know it, and so do I.”

The Alpha’s jaw works. “Kiki, baby, I’m trying to be nice here. But if you push me with that bullshit, the Serpent won’t help you.”

“Omegas are sacred,” I say. “You can’t hurt me for fear of Serpent’s Shadows.”

“The imposter told you that too?”

I grit my teeth.King Father is not an imposter!I scream inwardly. “Yes.”

“That’s a lie. He’s killed thousands of Omegas.”

“You’re the liar, Hordesman.”

He purses his lips. They’re really plush and humanoid and always smiling in an either cynical or charming way. I think those are his two forms. Cynical and charming. I prefer the charming one. With that in mind, I pick up his other boot and remove it, then guide his foot into the bucket. “I didn’t bring soap.”

He throws a rock inside the bath. It bubbles. A lavender scent rises. It’s pleasant and calming, and I roll up his leather pants. His calves are the size of my thighs, I swear it. This Alpha is massive, as massive as King Father, but Father is a Regha Alpha, whereas this one is just a half-breed. King Father says half-breeds are half as strong, though when I asked why he wouldn’t meet this Hordesman in a challenge and kill him, it didn’t go well for me.

I was encouraged to speak my mind, but not to question King Father, and a lashing is an effective form of discipline.

I massage the Hordesman’s calves. Under my touch, his muscles tense instead of relax. I look up, and my eyes land on the giant bulge in his pants. My mouth waters. Ah, the joys of Omegaland. Dripping from all the places the fluid can possibly come from, I swallow drool.

He sniffs the food and frowns before picking up the fork and devouring everything in seconds. Chewing, he frowns again.

I wash his ankles. “Is there something wrong?”

He swallows the last bite. “Did you bring alcohol?”

Weird question. The glass is right beside the plate. “Our finest bourbon.”

He taps around the tray, fingers nearly knocking the glass over, but he grips it and sniffs. “Strong.” He passes me the glass. “Taste it.”

“No, thank you.”

“Taste it and swallow.”

“Nah, I don’t like it.”

He drops his elbows on his knees, leaning close to my face, yet never quite meeting my eyes, which is so very strange for an Alpha. Eye contact imposes their dominance. Since he’s not imposing his will on me, I find it easier to look at his features, especially the permanent quirk of his mouth and the square hardness of his jaw. I lift my hand out of the bath, my fingers itching to trace all the hard edges of his face. I’ve never seen a Hordesman. I’ve only ever seen Swarm or Regha males, with their flat noses and flaps for ears. This one looks human, yet not really. He smells like pleasure and promises of heats filled with sin. And knotting. This one is a knotter.

A whimper escapes my lips.

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