Halloween Bundle Spooky Surprise!

A disgraced prince banished for his crimes, Sinadim is nothing more than a common criminal. Injured. Full of hate. He lost everything... until he found her. And soon, she will come to him—and she will beg...

Hips rolling, the prince ran his palm over the modest curves trapped beneath him, humming his appreciation of so fine a creature. Sweat gleaming in the low light, the scent of a female in season saturated the still air. Enough that his every huffing breath drove him deeper into the rut. Riding her hard from the back, spearing into the welcoming grip of the Hathorian female beneath him.
Euphoria.
Bred to submit, she was lost to instinct. Willing flesh whether she meant to be or not, and this one offered a particularly fine bouquet that spoke of cherished bloodlines long cultivated by his people.
The Anhur.
With a grunt, Sinadim’s grip tightened, claws extending to dimple flawless bronze skin. Drawing her up, he made a shrine of her hips, an altar to worship the rut so he might watch the lewd stretch. Admiring the way his girth was swallowed up by a tiny hole, her slit reddened and plumped by their efforts. Creamy and dripping with a mix of them both.
Free hand finding the base of her sandy, blonde tail, he wrenched it back and made her gasp. Exposing her genitals, his thumb tested that tight ring beneath her tail as his balls swung and slapped at wet flesh.
Cheek pressed to luxurious bedding, she twisted, the tattoo etched down the length of her spine contorting when inky eyes flicked over her shoulder. Gaze hooded, she mewled, a smile tracing painted lips. Her every movement designed to please. To entice.
Writhing beneath his weight, she tilted her hips and invited him to sink deeper inside.
“A-Alpha,” she gasped, hiccuping at the impact of slapping hips. Teeth clicking shut, the triangle of her left ear laid back. A cone of velvet that telegraphed her every fleeting emotion in a way the Anhur found cute. Primitive. “Please—please!”
Snarling, Sinadim indulged her. Felt his sack tighten, the base of his cock beginning to swell as his stamina failed him. His knot ballooning in a rush as he neared the end and his pace faltered. Thrusts growing short and jagged. Gripped by the silken fist of that tight and greedy little cunt, she milked him. The glands unique to her species rippled along his length, stimulating his base with a singular purpose.
“Breed me, Alpha,” she begged, eager for it. Desperate for that final stretch. Tail flexing in his merciless grip. Knees spreading further still, she dripped for him. Soaking the bedding as powerful internal muscles kneaded and milked at his cock, trying to lure the seed straight from his balls.
It was Sinadim’s turn to grunt, and it came straight from the bottom of his lungs. “Take it, then, Omega,” he hissed and found her limit. Bending against the cavern he intended to corrupt, he erupted with a roar. Spraying rope after rope of sperm into the mouth of her womb, he shuddered as he bred her. Knot blooming in a rush that made his head spin, teeth clenched and scrambling for purchase. Tail flicking in an arrogant sail as he sank as deep inside as he could get, Sinadim luxuriated in the silky grip of Omega pussy. Stretching her to the limit as he made space for himself and ensured she wouldn’t waste a single drop, an airtight seal formed where she was wet and glistening.
Locking them together.
Muscles lurching as he filled her, the prince slipped one hand around her hip and found a tight bundle of nerves, swollen with need. He caught it between forefinger and thumb, rolling that little bead until she squealed. Clamping down on his girth with a wail, she was made to prolong his pleasure.
Just as she’d been trained to do, by those with more patience than he.
“Again,” he said, gruff. Demanding. Careless of her limits, he sought only the next shuddering wave she might pull from his knot.
“A-A-Alpha—”
Snarling, he forced his thumb into her bowels, merciless when he barked, “Again!” through clenched teeth.
Be it the splinter of pain or the tone of his command, she obeyed. Sobbing, the fight in her muscles died. She submitted and accepted his seed, every rolling surge he might offer, making her ache with the volume that was sealed inside. Unable to escape from a male more than twice her weight until he was satisfied.
And Sinadim was far from done.
With a shudder, his tail arched higher still. Held stiff, an arrogant flag of so certain a victory, he fell forward as he continued to come. Emptying himself with a shiver, his mane risen in a shimmering blond halo around his shoulders, heavy with the scent of a dominant male. Cock pulsing. Twitching and lurching as he filled her to the brim.
“Good girl,” he hummed, though—given the way she’d succumbed—he had no idea if she could understand him. Her eyes shone white and vacant as she continued to flutter around his girth.
It didn’t matter.
He was drunk on the rut. High on the taste of slick, a loopy half-smile scrawled across his lips. Addicted to the rush of endorphins only her kind could induce, he petted her tangled, sweat-matted hair. Threading his claws through the wild tresses as she quaked beneath him, he watched her come undone through a lazy, slitted gaze.
The fan of golden lashes flickered, lips slack and gaping—hers was a face of pure female contentment. One of his favorites among the many dozens in his harem, for she’d been with him the longest.
One of his most prolific Omegas. A gift from his father upon being named Firstborn, and third in line to the Karahmet throne.
Unnamed, as all Hathorian breeding stock were, her lineage was instead inked down the length of her spine. Where Anhur males and females grew expressive manes that covered the top third of their spine, the Hathorians were branded at birth with the details of their bloodlines. Inscribed with the records of their sires and dams to avoid inbreeding. Accomplishments added later, as their hybrid offspring achieved greatness in battle, the Hathorians were traded in a careful dance between clans that was steeped in thousands of years of honored tradition.
He traced the elegant lettering with the point of his claw, making gooseflesh ripple in the wake of his touch.
Her cheeks were stained red above parted, sagging lips, and Sinadim knew she’d be senseless until his knot let go. Until the anchor locked behind her pelvic bone slipped free and released a gushing torrent of royal, Anhur sperm.
Room made for another session when the rut surged anew. Emptied so he might fill her up again.
And again.
And again until her heat ran cold and her internal glands were expressed of the fluid that drove her to seek out a male with such insatiable vigor.
Crossing the species barrier wasn’t a thing easily done. A game of numbers that often took many diligent attempts before the seed took hold—a challenge Anhur males were more than equal to, for they’d evolved alongside their coveted breeding stock. Over a thousand, thousand generations, their stamina and drive had risen in measured step with Hathorian females until one could not easily be without the other.
Omegas.
Sinadim grinned, cruel when he thumbed her clit. Rolling it until he set off a cascade of rippling muscle that teased his knot into belching up another weak jet of seed.
As reliable a breeder as she was a pleasant fuck, their pairing was one that had produced many hardy hybrids. Strong, loyal soldiers and gentle maidens with tainted blood. A potent mix of royalty and slave, they were loyal to their fathers, yet unable to seek holdings of their own for the hybrids were sterile. Deadly in battle—utterly harmless to Anhur bloodlines. Posing no threat to pure-blood Anhur sons.
Limitless in their potential to serve, bred for obedience.
Born to die.
Hunching, Sinadim let his head dip. Forehead pressed to heated skin between her shoulder blades, he took a breath against her nape. Drawing her scent into his lungs as the rut cooled for a moment, allowing him to think of something other than the grip of a needy cunt. He rolled back, straightening and shifting, he inspected the place where his knot threatened to burst free. Letting the girl curl against his chest, lost to the world. Her tail swept to the side in an elegant swish, twitching with the aftershocks of his selfish generosity.
He let out a gusty breath, reached behind his head for a mug of fiery spirits, and drank deep. Taking two long pulls, Sinadim swallowed the burn and swallowed again.
Despite his enjoyment of this particular female, this was a chore with a purpose.
One he didn’t have time for, but couldn’t escape. Not until he’d ended her season—and that would only come with mounting her several more times over the course of the night. Knotting her repeatedly until she was heavy with his spending.
Bloated with cum.