Page 16 of The Blind Hordesman

“Bite me again, or I’ll tie you to the chair and won’t let you bake, then count that as laziness and strap you onto a pole for it.”

“That’s so beyond wrong.”

“I know, baby. I’m all kinds of evil.” He cranes his neck.

I rise on my toes and sniff him again, and he’s yummy and I can almost scent the musky smell of his arousal. He’s really turned on, or I wouldn’t have been able to smell it. “You like me,” I tell him.

He chuckles. “That should worry you.”

“It does.” Even on my toes, I’m too short to reach his neck, so I pick a nice big muscle on his chest and bite down with all my might. When he makes no noise, I bite harder. I’m gonna draw blood, and I don’t care. I press my teeth into his muscle, feeling my jaw quivering.

Instead of detaching me from him, he purrs. The vibration moves through my teeth and jangles my brain, travels down my body and forces liquid onto my panties. He fists my hair and pulls it away, holds me like that, dipping his head toward my lips. He’s gonna kiss me.

He is.

I part my lips.

Chapter 7

Seer

I promised my baby cousin Raven, now King of Regha, I would bring him the imposter’s head. Now, it seems he doesn’t want the head. He wants a crown on mine.

I promised my males they’d return to the Sewa region and farm all they wanted, settle down with a nice Omega, and breed. Now it seems they’ll serve me on Earth.

I promised myself I would be happy with what I have. Sightless but grateful. Now it seems I also want an Omega. I never wanted one before, and all these changes, namely when other people decide what I’m gonna do and not do, make me homicidal.

I made no fucking promises to become a King of Earth. I would war and conquer for however long for the King of Regha, but I made no promises of my own kingship, and they can’t force me. They know it, and they’re not taking it well. Dreikx in particular is annoyed, and I wouldn’t put it past him to have a dozen backup plans on how best to convince me to take the Earth’s crown my uncle—somedays I hate him for imposing shit on the family bloodline—thought up for me. It’s not that I hate the idea of becoming a king. I hate the idea of someone telling me what to do, and they’ve all ganged up and decided they’re going to tell me what to do. Worst of all, they all ganged up to tell me how I’m gonna do it. Fuck them. I’ll do it my way.

Maybe I’ll take this Omega. Maybe I won’t. But for now, her dynamic calls mine like a siren perched on a rock. I’m the damned sailor who’s gonna swim right into that pussy. I can taste Kiki’s scent at the back of my throat. It’s so strong that it stuffs my nose and clogs my brain. Instead of devising a plan for how I’m gonna move forward, I’m devising a plan for how to get into Kiki’s panties.

Her bite sure feels good. It’s short-lived seeing as she’s got blunt teeth that can’t pierce my skin. Her hair in my fist, I tug. With a finger, I trace the contours of her face. It’s feminine, with a small nose and plush lips that part for me. I push my thumb inside her mouth, press against her tongue. She closes her lips around my thumb and starts sucking.

My dick pulses, leaks semen. “Kiki girl, you’re looking for trouble.” I take my thumb out of her mouth. Gonna taste her saliva later.

“I’m going to bake those cookies.”

Her mouth is right there. I lean in a little, and she rises back up on her toes, reluctant, maybe scared, maybe shy. Gently, I kiss her. A peck on her lips. I don’t know why I’m fucking gentle. I hate gentle, and I hate that I’m being gentle. So I stop the crazy shit and step back.

Kiki pushes past me, bumping my shoulder again. I laugh because this Omega is either a lunatic or a hellion or both. And fuck if I don’t like either.

I sit my ass on the chair and get the paper from the sack, pick up a pencil, and continue drawing. Here’s another thing I’m doing that I shouldn’t be doing. Instead of drawing the landscape, I sketch the contours of her face, shadowing the nose. I imagine her eyes are brown, though they could be any color for all I care.

Identifying him by the sound of his walking pattern, I hear Noslov’s footsteps approach. Hounds can tell friends from strangers this way too. As can dogs, wolves, lions, and practically all animals. Outside, he whistles.

“Come in,” I say.

Noslov walks in and hovers over my drawing. “We are fucked,” he concludes, still hovering. I dislike when Alphas hover over me. It puts them in a position of superiority. At least, that’s how I process it. I rattle a soft warning, and Noslov tumbles into the chair. Better. Much better. I keep drawing her toes. Those little things are hard to draw, and I use the fingers of my left hand to guide the pencil in my right. Then I switch it up. I’m ambidextrous. “You came because…?”

“The males wanna know how long we’re staying.”

“However long I want.” I color her toes. She seems like a toe-painting girl. I wonder what color, not that it matters much to me.

“The Division Sa scout returned.”

“Mm-hm.” Fuck, the toe is too big. I erase and try again.

“The Collectors are a span away.”

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