Page 69 of Sinadim

It consumed him.

Without ever seeing her face, without so much as a sip of her slick, his body reacted. Obsessing over her scent. Slavering for the chance to touch. To fuck and claim and breed so noble a bloodline as that.

Balkazar cleared his throat. “Can… Is there anything I can do to help?”

Sinadim clawed at his wounds. Making them weep and split, his cheek raw and swollen as he tried to dig deep enough to ease the ever-present itch buried beneath badly healed skin. Choosing instead to focus his wrath on the pain of skin that had never knit quite right, on the agony radiating from the tight ridges of scar tissue, and the eye that never stopped weeping.

But he said nothing.

Because he was nothing.

Not a prince.

Not a warrior.

Nothing.

Even the guards at the wall had more than he did. They had purpose. A place.

Their tails, and…

… and an Omega.

She should have been hidden in the deepest vault. Coveted and jealously guarded by Anhur royalty with an army to match bloodlines of that quality. Instead, she was… here. Gifted to the rabble.

Hadim’s doing—he was sure of it.

Positive the girl was a taunt.

A hint of what was coming.

It wouldn’t be long now, not long at all before his sentence was carried out. Before he was banished, doomed to spend a lifetime wandering the wilds with nothing but the memory of all he’d lost.

That he’d failed.

No longer a favored son of the sultanate.

No bottomless wealth.

No harem of dedicated females.

Mutilated.

His last glimpse of an Omega was already fading from memory. Her scent clouded by the dank filth of the dungeon beneath the wall, soiled by the scent of fetid cum staining every inch of his horrid place.

Bitter, impotent fury bubbled in his gut, mixing with the flood of testosterone that threatened his will to live. It lived and writhed inside him, begging to be unleashed no matter the consequences. Mutating into something grotesque and vile as it oozed through his pores.

He let it burn. Let it feast on every drop of venom festering in his heart until that fragile whisper of hope was incinerated.

Until nothing remained.

Not even vengeance.

There was no telling how much time passed.

Only the vague awareness that it would happen with or without him.

That life would go on, just as it always had.