Chapter 33 Syra

The first few hours aren't too bad. I can feel my heat gathering inside me—burning, rising—but the urges are well within the range of what I'm able to control. I just sit by the wall of my cell with my legs drawn up against my chest and focus on the feeling of Markus in my heart.

He is far away now, so very far away, and it hurts me, but I know that's a good sign. It means he must have outrun his Farlander pursuers. Perhaps he's even made it back to the Central Ruins by now? It's hard to be sure. I conjure up a map of the Zone in my mind's eye. I picture the location of this abandoned prison. I estimate the distance to the Central Ruins. I try to calculate how quickly an alpha would be able to run that distance.

Maybe…

All I have to do is hold on until Markus returns with help.

And what if he doesn't return?

He will. He has to.

As the sun goes down, the shadows within the prison deepen until it is almost too dark to see. I welcome the darkness, because it hides my nakedness from the many males standing outside my cell.

"Let's get some light in here," Delphine says. "We don't want to give this omega slut a chance to cheat at our little game."

I glare at her in the darkness. There are a lot of unkind things I would like to say to her right now, but I choose not to. No point in provoking her. Better to keep my mouth shut and try not to think about my building arousal.

Torches are lit. They crackle and sputter. Orange light shines through the bars of my cell, casting dancing shadows across the stone walls. The smell of fuel and smoke is strong in the air, but not strong enough to cover up the stench of the Farlanders—or the heady odor of my steadily increasing arousal.

Or the scent of Brik, chained and kneeling at the back of the cell.

I'm sitting as far away from him as possible, up near the front of the cell, by the bars. I don't want to do that. I would much rather sit near him. I would love to feel the comfort of his strong, masculine presence, and maybe even listen to the soothing purr of his voice.

His scent, however, is a problem. Even at a distance, it's infecting me with desire, filling my mind with images of all the things I want to do to him, all the ways I want to touch him. I'm afraid if I move closer, those urges will get even stronger.

So I sit at the front of the cell.

Right where all the Farlanders can watch me.

And watch me they do. Some of them are crouching in the big corridor outside, their eyes blazing in torchlight. Others are standing or sitting on the walkways of the upper levels, leaning against the railings or letting their legs dangle over the edge. Because I am marked, my heat-scent is not driving them into a mating frenzy, but they can still see my naked body, my bare skin dripping with sweat. Some of them make lewd gestures at me with their tongues. Others have removed their loincloths so they can stroke themselves. I look away in disgust.

"What's the matter?" Delphine says with laughter in her voice. "Don't you want a nice, hard alpha cock inside you? It's the only way to end your suffering."

I ignore her.

I try to ignore my heat too, but I can't. With each hour that passes, it grows stronger. Need twists my insides. Goosebumps welter across my naked skin. Slick oozes out from between my legs until I'm sitting in a puddle of my own wet leakage.

It must be sometime after midnight when I start to touch myself.

I know I shouldn't, but I can't help it. I need a release so badly, I feel like I'll die without it.

I slouch against the wall and open my legs. On the other side of the bars, the Farlanders erupt with howls and laughter. Some of them hurl insults at me. They call me a whore. They taunt me with offers I want no part of.

I squeeze my eyes shut and try to block everything out.

My hand snakes down between my legs, and I glide my fingertips over my pussy. My lips are swollen and throbbing with need. My skin is soaked with a mixture of sweat and arousal. My hips buck and twitch in response to my own touch.

Desperate sounds tumble from my mouth.

And the Farlanders roar with excitement.

This is exactly what Delphine wants. To shame me. To humiliate me. To make me degrade myself in front of these slobbering beasts. I hate it, but I can't help myself. I need to come so bad it hurts.

I lie back on the floor and spread my legs even wider.

Drawing back the hood of skin surrounding my clitoris, I expose that aching nub to the humid air and glaring eyes. One touch is enough to send hot sparks of pleasure spiraling deep into my core. I writhe and moan as I rub myself even harder.

"You're putting on quite a show," Delphine chuckles. "But your own fingers can't save you from your heat. I thought you would know that by now."

Shut up!I think. Shut up!

She's right though. As much as I hate to admit it, she is right. I come a dozen times or more, but it does nothing to diminish my heat. It only makes things worse.

But I can't stop.

I can't stop.

The next time I open my eyes, the torches have all been put out, and sunlight is streaming in through the window at the back of the cell. There's sunlight out in the main part of the prison too, illuminating Thorus's battered frame and all the ugly Farlanders who have been watching me touch myself.

Delphine is there too, still smiling. I bet she hasn't stepped away from my cell all night. She doesn't want to miss even one moment of my torment.

And it is torment.

I lie on the floor of the cell, shuddering, naked, weak. My throat feels as dry as sand. I want to cry, but I'm too dehydrated for tears.

I try to search my feelings for Markus, try to sense if he is near yet, but I can't feel him. My heat is too intense. It leaves no room in my mind for anything else.

"I'm impressed," Delphine's voice calls to me from beyond the bars of my cell. "I didn't think you would be able to last this long. But you can't last forever, omega."

She's right. I can't.

But I don't have to hold out forever. Only until Markus gets here. Source, I wish I knew where he was. I wish I could feel him. At least then I would know how much longer I have to endure.

I can't feel him, though. All I can feel is my heat. My need. My agony.

I want to touch myself again, but I know it will only make matters worse, so I ball my hands into fists at my sides and hold them there.

I'm so thirsty, so hungry, so hot.

My skin is blazing. It feels like I'm lying outside in the summer sun rather than shivering in the gloomy shadows of an abandoned prison. My nipples are so swollen with arousal it feels as if they might explode at any moment. I can practically hear the slick seeping out from between my legs.

Without meaning to, I let my head loll to one side, and suddenly I'm looking at the back of the cell.

I'm looking at Brik.

Ever since this game began, I've been making a point not to look at him for fear it would push me over the edge. One careless moment is all it takes, and my fears are confirmed.

Brik's body, like mine, is glossy with sweat. His skin glistens like oiled bronze in the sunlight coming in through the small window. His muscles are hard with tension, his veins are throbbing and thick. And down between his legs, the long, hard shaft of his cock is jutting like a pillar, dripping precum and trembling with his pulse. The sheer sight of it makes me moan with desire.

"Syra," he growls, his voice filled with warning.

It is the first time he has spoken to me since this awful game began. He didn't want to draw my attention because he knew it would only add fuel to the fire of my heat.

He was right.

The sound of his voice washes over me and through me, smooth and deep, sending tingles of desire racing across my skin. I remember the first time he and I were alone together in the cave, and it was so dark I couldn't even see him, but I could hear his voice, I could smell his scent, and I could feel his hard, smooth body pressing against mine. I remember how he made me come so hard with his fingers, and later with his cock. I remember how he knotted me, how he pumped me full of his hot, sticky seed.

I want him to do that to me again. I want him to put an end to my suffering. I want him inside me, and I want it right now.

But I can't touch him.

If I do, Thorus will die.

I close my eyes, and try to think of something else, anything else, but the image of Brik's majestic body remains etched in my mind's eye. I see every detail of his perfect cock and his smooth, heavy balls. I see his knot expanding around the base of his shaft. I see long ropes of semen jetting from his tip, and I imagine lying back on the floor in front of him, letting his warm seed shower my face and fall into my gaping mouth.

"Please," I murmur weakly. "Please…"

The words are directed toward Markus, wherever he is. Maybe our mate-bond will let him feel the urgency of my plea. I know he's coming as fast as he can, but I need him to come faster. My sanity is hanging by a thread here.

"Please…"

Somewhere nearby, Delphine giggles. She can hear me begging, and she probably thinks the words are intended for her.

"There's no point in begging," she says. "Everything you need is right there in that cell with you. Just crawl over there like the little slut you are, and take that alpha's fat cock inside you. That's all you have to do to end this."

"No!" I snarl.

"No? Are you sure? Your lips are saying one thing, Syra, but your body is sending a very different message. Look."

When I open my eyes again, I am no longer lying on my back near the front of the cell. I'm on my hands and knees, and I'm crawling toward Brik.

Source, what am I doing? I can't touch Brik! They'll kill Thorus if I do…

I try to stop myself, but my body betrays me. I cannot control my arms and legs. It's as if an evil spirit has taken possession of me, and it is forcing me to crawl toward the alpha at the back of the cell.

No, not an evil spirit.

My heat.

"Syra!" Brik says. "Stop!"

"I can't!" I cry. "I'm trying, but I can't!"

Hot tears fill my eyes and pour down my cheeks. A lump tightens my throat. Sobs rack my body.

And I continue crawling to Brik.

Behind me, Delphine clucks her tongue.

"What a little whore you are," she says. "You're no better than a dog, a bitch in heat, willing to let your lover die just so you can have a little taste of alpha cock."

Willpower has nothing to do with it. I try to stop it, I try with all my might, but my muscles refuse to listen.

My body is no longer my own.

"Don't listen to her," Brik says. "Listen to me. Listen to your alpha. I want you to stop right there, Syra. Don't come any closer."

It doesn't work. I'm too far gone. There's not enough of me left to hear him. There's only my heat, my need, my hunger.

My arm lifts. My hand reaches toward him, trembling.

Thorus's voice purrs in my ears. It sounds as though he is right behind me, only inches away.

It's alright little one, he says. You tried your best. I am so proud of you.

"I did," I whisper. "I tried my best…"

But it wasn't enough.

Behind me, I can hear Delphine ordering Hadrian to prepare his dagger. In front of me, my hand reaches forward against my will. My fingertips brush against Brik's skin, and an instant later a howl of pain splits the air.