96. Veyka

It was a wonder that Elayne and Pant even bothered with torches, when every single set of eyes in the great hall glowed with desire and barely contained lust.

It began like every other communal meal I'd attended at Eilean Gayl—without any ceremony at all. The priestess and her acolyte were present, standing between Elayne and Pant and offering benedictions to anyone who approached. But that was where the formality ended.

The only difference I could detect was that the revelry had moved towards fucking more quickly. Usually, the terrestrials did not start openly straddling or mounting each other until at least the third course.

But by the time the first round of meat hit the table—curried lamb with a tangy cream sauce—the scent of arousal was already thick in the air.

Most of the terrestrials ignored the platters. I, however, was hungry.

Arran's breath warmed my ear, making me drop the portion of lamb I'd been aiming for my plate. I should have been able to sense him coming. But since I'd returned from the Spine, the mating bond had been humming so loud, it was nearly impossible to tell whether it was to indicate his nearness or an aftereffect of our most recent round of bed play.

Not that we'd confined ourselves to the bed.

We'd fucked on nearly every surface in my suite of rooms. And the study Arran had commandeered. Twice.

Arran leaned around me, cutting a new slice of lamb and placing it on my plate. "Eat up, Princess. I do not want you to lose another pound of that lovely round ass of yours."

How the fuck was I supposed to eat when he said things like that?

Arran's eyes glowed, dark brows lifting in challenge.

I forced myself to cut the meat, to lift a bite to my mouth. My stomach betrayed me as the mouthwatering scent filled my lungs. Clearly, my stomach and my cunt were not in communication with one another.

I decided not to look at him. Seeing those burning black eyes, imagining the stubble on his chin as it scraped over my skin… Nope. I definitely could not look at him.

I trained my gaze on the crowd in front of us as I forced down bite after bite, appeasing both my mate and my stomach. There was a growing group of terrestrials in the center of the great hall, dancing. Or fucking while dancing. As I watched, a male lowered himself to the ground right in the center of the pack, bringing a female down with him. She shoved aside his pants, her otherwise demure skirt, and mounted him, rocking her hips in time with the music. A few seconds later, two more males had joined her—one tugging down her bodice to pay homage to her breasts, the other coming behind and toying with her rear entrance.

I put down my fork.

Arran's mouth was back at my ear.

Ancestors, have you paused to eat anything tonight?

A low growl caressed me from the inside. I'd much rather feast on you.

"Shall I take you here, before our subjects?"

Yes.

But before he could make good on that promise, we both turned.

The exultant fervor had shifted. Panic—those were cries of panic and fear.

Arran stood with me, a solid wall at my side. I rose to my toes, trying to see into the crowd. It was hard to make out anything in the frenzy of movement.

But then the scent hit me. Stronger than the thick clouds of arousal and aromas of sizzling meat. Putrid, decaying, death.

They're here.