Page 26 of A Mate for the King
Chapter Eight
Zehr had never been one to lose control, but the sight of his omega laying prone before an unknown alpha had him out of his mind.
She was his.
Heads would roll for this slight.
Zehr stalked forward, another roar erupting from him. He caught the offending alpha by the throat and slammed him down on the ground with a growl.
The alpha squirmed, trying to throw off Zehr’s hands, but there was little the alpha or any other shifter could do to stop Zehr in his rage. The sweet scent of his omega was tainted with the sulfur smell of fear and distress. It burned his nostrils.
He should have been there to protect his omega. She was hurt and his absence had allowed it.
All-Mother damn him.
“Zehr!” His sister’s voice rang out and he went still. “You can’t kill him. I know you want to but you can’t, not before your coronation. You know the laws!”
He grunted in response.
The alpha beneath him was grateful, he could tell from the smell of him, an interesting combination of terror and relief mixed with piss.
Giving the shit excuse of an alpha another wrench of his hands, Zehr drew back, but only far enough to slam his fist into the shifter’s jaw.
“I should rip you limb from limb, but for now I’ll make an example.” He rose then, dragging the alpha up by the scruff of his neck and jerked him around to face Cora.
He glared around him at the shifters who had ventured close from the neighboring camps, feverishly watching the tableau play out.
“You live for now but your time is borrowed. Now kneel and beg for mercy,” Zehr growled.
The alpha stiffened at the words but with a shuddering sigh he ducked his head and moved to drop to his knees in front of Zehr.
But he caught the shifter neatly and shook his head.
“Ah, ah, ah,” Zehr chided him with a shake of his head, “not to me. To her.”
He nodded at Cora with a hitch of his chin.
“Kneel to her.”
“Never,” the alpha spat, face twisted in anger. “She’s a witch!”
Zehr kicked the closest leg of the shifter out from under him and jerked his head back with a yank.
“Beg her for mercy.”
He could sense a war in the alpha—that though he was bested with no hope of successfully challenging Zehr he remained proud—and that earned a dust mite’s worth of respect from Zehr.
“With the coronation ceremony or not, for all intents and purposes she is your queen. Now beg her if you want to see a day past this week.”
“Do it,” a panicked blonde alpha female who reeked of fear begged the shifter in his grasp. “Rork, please, do it. Don’t be stupid. You can’t beat him. Not even with the both of us. Please!”
At the plea, a surprisingly heartfelt one, Rork’s shoulders slumped before he slowly fell forward onto his knees. “I beg for—”
Zehr’s foot in his back stopped him and he pushed Rork lower until the shifter’s face was in the dirt. “That’s the appropriate level for addressing your queen. Now you may continue.”
After a tense moment in which no one moved, not even the wind, the shifter tried again. “I beg you for forgiveness. I am at your mercy.”
Cora stepped forward, face bloody and eyes narrowed.
