The Alphas' Rut (E-BOOK, LGBT)

ONE

King Alfric

“The attackers were wielding poisoned blades, sire.”

Through the confusion of the recently concluded battle, my third-in-command’s gruff voice sounded strained. I turned, panting with exertion, and gave him my full attention.

“What poison?” I demanded, all too aware of the line of fire burning across the flesh of my upper arm.

The royal Lothian delegation returning from Zastria had almost made it back to the castle when a small but well-armed contingent of foreign assailants descended on us. Thankfully, they hadn’t reached the carriage at the center of our convoy, with its precious cargo hidden behind red silk curtains. My guards and I would never have allowed that. Still, damage enough had been done. Damage which, it appeared, might well include my own death—depending on what kind of poison the attackers had used on their blades.

“The physician says it smells like bloodfire, my liege,” Dominic reported, casting a worried glance at the growing red stain on the sleeve of my tunic.

Damn and blast.

“Not fatal, then,” I said. “Small mercies, I suppose. Was anyone else struck?”

“Gaul received a cut on his face, sire,” Dominic said. “Two of the outriders are dead. Everyone else is uninjured.” His face settled into grim lines. “Prince Beaumont is unharmed, but shaken.”

“Yes, I suppose he would be,” I replied, equally grim. “Well, it appears we have something of a problem. One which you and the others must ensure does not touch our princeling in any way. Have someone see to the bodies, that they may be buried once we return home. Bind Gaul and myself firmly with whatever rope you can find. Do it quickly, before the effects of the poison begin to manifest.”

“Yes, sire,” Dominic agreed, with a shallow bow of acknowledgement. “It is good that we’re only a handful of hours away from the castle.”

We both looked up as Gaul approached, dabbing at the trails of blood running down his sharp cheekbone. “Did he tell you already, sire? Looks like you and I have a date with a dungeon cell for the next few days.”

My pack-brother sounded irritated and resigned in equal measure. All in all, it was a reasonable reaction to learning that you were about to enter an unnatural alpha rut brought on by an attacker’s tainted blade.

“Yes, my old friend. He told me about the bloodfire.” A heavy sigh escaped my control. “No doubt they hoped to kill the rest of our party, leaving our promised omega mate to be brutally assaulted by the very alphas sworn to protect him. Which reminds me…”

I excused myself and approached the carriage, knowing I needed to speak to Beaumont while I still retained my senses.

“Your Grace,” I greeted, when the curtain on the carriage window twitched aside to reveal its occupants.

The haughty omega prince was as beautiful as ever, with his cascading locks of long, golden hair and his fine, almost delicate features. His exotic floral scent tickled my nostrils, and I clamped down on my body’s reaction with all my control. God’s teeth, the poison was working fast.

Something must have shown on my face, because both the prince and his chaperone tensed.

“Are we safe?” Beaumont asked, watching me warily. “One of your men said that the brigands were dead.”

“They are,” I confirmed. “We will be resuming our journey shortly, and we should reach the castle walls before nightfall. However, I must inform you of an unfortunate occurrence that will prevent me from offering my hospitality as a host and future mate should. The assailants’ blades were tipped with a substance known as bloodfire.”

Beaumont drew in a sharp little breath. The sound sent blood rushing southward.

“I know of it,” he said, his eyes drawn immediately to my bloodstained sleeve. “You were cut?”

“Two of us were. Myself and my second-in-command, Gaul.”

Beaumont’s poise grew visibly brittle, and worry soured his scent. “Another alpha?”

“Yes,” I replied. “Fear not, Your Grace. We will keep you safe. The others will bind both of us and tie us to our horses for the remainder of the journey.”

“And after that?” Beaumont demanded, his voice rising. “They say that bloodfire can be fatal if the rut isn’t satisfied!”

“That… will not be an issue,” I told him, unable to completely hide my discomfort about the topic.

“Won’t it?” Beaumont jerked backward in alarm, completely misunderstanding what I was saying.

“No!” I said quickly, taking a hasty step back before I could catch myself. I continued in a slightly calmer tone. “No. I ask only that you not be offended by what is to happen. Alpha warriors in my kingdom swear an oath as pack-brothers, which includes a promise to aid each other in the event of an unplanned rut.”

“They do?” The prince’s brilliant blue eyes widened. “Well, I suppose this certainly qualifies as unplanned.” He exchanged a look with his chaperone, an equally wide-eyed male omega with raven-black hair and green eyes.

I took another deliberate step back, because the eye color of my future mate’s chaperone should in no way be a subject of interest to me. “Forgive me, Your Grace. I must take my leave of you now. Please rest assured that the others will allow no harm to come to you.”

“But what about you?” Beaumont asked.

I cleared my throat, the heat of embarrassment rising to my cheeks. “Some of what you see and hear in the coming hours may be… disturbing,” I continued. “I beg you not to hold it against me, or against Gaul. You will be protected, and that is what is important. You have my word.”

Beaumont rolled his lower lip between his teeth for a moment before it popped free. I found myself unable to look away from the small movement.

“As long as you and your pack-brother will be safe, too,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “I did travel rather a long way from home to be here, you know. I’d prefer if the trip doesn’t end up being for nothing.”

There was a hint of tentative humor behind the quip. I could scent my future mate’s disquiet after the attack, and yet he was putting a brave face on things.

“All will be well,” I managed. “Now, we should be off. The sun is already growing lower in the sky.”

I backpedaled before the temptation to leap into the carriage and taste the prince’s alluring pale skin became too strong to ignore—only to be caught by two pairs of hands. An aggressive growl rose in my throat. I jerked instinctively against the restraint… but it was only Dominic and our other pack-brother, Léon.

“Come along, sire,” Léon said. “Gaul has been secured on his horse. Don’t deprive me of the joy of tying my liege’s exalted arse to the saddle as well. Just think—you’ll look exactly like a boar being packed out of the hunting field.”

The bolt of animal rage that shot through me in response to the teasing was both out of character, and a very bad sign.

“I wouldn’t dream of depriving you,” I managed through gritted teeth. “However, you might wish to hurry.”

* * *

Gaul and I were both bound across our saddles like particularly ill-tempered bags of barley. The remaining hours of travel quickly became a descent into madness. At first, I was appalled by the knowledge that Beaumont would be listening to every one of my hurled curses and unintelligible screams.

“Damn you, all of you stinking peasants! I am your king! I demand you release me before I have you all drawn and quartered! Filthy, traitorous—”

It was almost a relief when Dominic dismounted long enough to shove a wad of cloth into my mouth to gag me, narrowly avoiding losing a finger or two in the process as I snapped at him viciously.

For the first part of the journey, I’d felt like I was an observer watching from outside my body as I behaved more and more like a mindless beast. For the last part, I was the beast. It was a one-way journey to the deepest circle of hell. I could smell the omega I needed to mate. Worse, I could hear and smell my alpha rival nearby. He, too, was letting out muffled snarls and cries. Ropes creaked as we struggled against our bonds, desperate to get at each other and establish dominance.

Our arrival at the castle heralded shouts of dismay and a series of hurried conversations, although the words were a meaningless jumble of sounds. More guards arrived, carrying long poles. My rival and I were pulled from our snorting horses. The poles were threaded through our bound wrists and ankles. Strong men hefted each of the ends, leaving us to be transported swinging from the lengths of wood like the very animals we’d become.

The part of the dungeons where we were taken did not house prisoners. Even in my irrational state, I knew my subjects and packmates would not allow me to be seen by strangers in such a condition. Nevertheless, I jerked and bounced against the pole, trying in vain to get free before these cruel betrayers could put me in a cage, separated by bars of iron from the omega I needed to claim.

I screamed into the cloth gag as my rival and I were carried into the cell despite our violent struggles.

“Shackle His Majesty to one of the slabs first, and don’t forget to muzzle him.” Dominic’s tightly controlled voice cut through our muffled roars of rage. “I doubt we have enough people here to hold Gaul down until after he’s knotted something. You, there—fetch us some oil. These two are going to need it.”

End of excerpt