Chapter #5

HE NOSED AGAINST Kristján’s neck, his tongue darting out, licking his skin, touching, tasting. A blistering white haze clouded his vision, and he could feel the slick pool in his underwear. Kristján’s cock twitched, and his hole clenched over warm air.

Fuck,” the man whispered, suctioning his mouth over his cool skin. “Nate.”

“I—I’m not—” Kristján tried to speak, but arousal made his words slip into a moan. He can’t. He doesn’t even know this man. The stranger’s tongue slid over his glands; strong heady strokes that made Kristján’s thoughts turn to syrup. He shoved the man off, scrambling to his feet.

“I’ll kill him.” The man thrashed. “I’ll fucking kill him—”

Kristján fled the room. His feet slapped against the wooden boards as he sprinted down the corridor, his heart pounding in his ears.

Gods, he was so stupid. What the hell was he thinking? Getting close to a prisoner like that? He could’ve been killed. Pain exploded in his temple like a steel rod. The world tilted dangerously, and Kristján jerked back staggering, clutching the side of his face where it throbbed. Narfi stood like a statue in front of him, eyes fierce. “Where the fuck are you going?”

Kristján’s hand came away bloodied. Iron flooded his mouth, and it took him a moment to realize he’d been struck. Hard. Narfi’s face was clouded with fury, mouth curling into a sneer while he held an iron tray. He tossed it on the floor and grabbed Kristján’s shirt. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost…” Narfi’s lips slithered into a smile. “Could that mean our prisoner is awake?”

Thoughts jumbled in his brain. Kristján glared up at him. His eyes pulsed like red-hot needles were shoved in his eyes. “Let’s have a look.” Narfi dragged him back to the room and tossed him inside.

The prisoner was still thrashing on the bed, moaning pitifully. Narfi loomed over him and sneered. He forced the prisoner’s eyes open, checking his pupils.

“This shit isn’t happening fast enough,” he spat, and then picked up the fallen vial, inspecting it closely before anger rippled across his face. “Nathanial…you worthless fuck,” Narfi spat vengefully. “This isn’t poison at all. It’s…” Realization dawned on him, and he crushed the vial in his hand to pieces.

The prisoner’s legs kicked the blanket, and he saw that they were chained to the bedpost. They were both slaves. Kristján’s heart lurched. He didn’t know who this man was, but he felt like he did. Every cell in Kristján’s body was crying out to save him.

Narfi muttered something inaudible, shaking his head before he turned to walk away.

“Nate,” the prisoner rasped, making Narfi still immediately.

Light tremors burst over Narfi’s form. He growled low and deep in his chest. A warning. Monstrous claws inched from his hands and cold fury washed over him. Kristján stepped back, the air between them charged dangerously, and he could almost see Narfi’s thin thread of control snap. Kristján acted on impulse, thrusting himself on top of the prisoner, eyes wet but resolute.

Narfi’s lips twitched, then he threw his head back and laughed. Hard and loud. “You’re just like him…” His laughter gave way to a snarl. “But I won’t give you the chance to fuck me. You want him? He’s all yours.”

Narfi marched out the door. He jerked in horror when the bolt slid shut. Kristján leaped from his position, fist slamming against the door while Narfi’s laughter rang out. Air punched through his lungs, and Kristján’s eyes widened as a rush of pheromones flooded the room, and he spun on his heel to see the prisoner’s eyes bleeding yellow.

What the fuck? Panic clawed at his throat. Another low growl echoed in the low light, while the prisoner pushed onto his elbows, revealing the chains clasped around his wrists.

Gods. Why didn’t Kristján notice that? His knees quaked as he pressed to the door. Heat engulfed his skin and the room burned like a furnace. What’s happening? His skin felt slick and dewy, and his hole began to throb instantly. Cedar singed his throat and the prisoner’s gaze scorched his skin. Kristján fought off a wave of pleasure as it crashed over him, rippling through his entire body.

Alpha. Another growl pierced the air. A shiver ran down Kristján’s spine.

The prisoner’s eyes were wild and red, such a deep, bright red like freshly-spilled blood. Come. Kristján cried out, his insides churning. Visions of him climbing on the bed and slamming down on the alpha’s thick, bulbous knot filled his head. He whined low in his throat, while the alpha’s mouth dripped with saliva, lips curling over jagged teeth.

Come. Kristján’s feet stepped forward, slick dribbling.

What is this? Kristján’s thoughts were warped. Narfi’s strange reaction. That smell. Oh, GGods. His eyes flew to the vial on the ground, oozing black tar painted with a mist of purple haze.

Narfi was right. It wasn’t poison at all.

It was a powerful potion to induce an alpha’s rut.

Sea lavender. Kristján’s eyes widened in horror.

It was a vicious concoction that would force an alpha into a feral rut, which would eventually lead to madness, and on a ship full of other alphas it was pretty much a death sentence. Did Nathanial do this? The question is why? Kristján didn’t have time to ponder it. The alpha gnashed his teeth, the pull between them like a noose around his neck. Come.

Something inside him snapped, like the beads on a pearl necklace.

His heart clenched as the world fell from his feet.

Don’t worry, Alpha. I’m coming.

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