Wolf Princess Sold to the Dragon King

Two of her mates were chest-to-chest while Luminari soldiers filed into the chamber. One mate was unconscious with a bite wound and a toxicology report that was going to start a war. And the fourth mate had just dismissed his men to get some rest and was already planning his next three moves to get his woman.

Little did he know, the dead Beta in the closet was just the appetizer for the shit about to go down in Greyhall Crossing.

The chain was moving fast and this next one was less a domino and more a ball-busting, bench-believing, bed-bouncing batshit bonfire.

✦✦✦

"Nobody touches her here. Make the portal," Tharos Stonehowl ordered.

Guinevere looked at the door so hard it screamed ’I’m going this way’ in subtitles.

Tharos moved to block it.

She eyed the balcony, shifting her weight with the subtlety of a neon come-get-me sign.

He adjusted.

She went for the door. The original direction she looked at first. The one he’d left wide open because she sold the feint like a fucking professional fugitive who believed in herself.

On her way, she shoulder-checked the larger Dark Fae into a wall so hard a painting fell on his head. He sprang back up grinning, like the universe had just given him a gift.

"SHE WRESTLES. THE VESSEL WRESTLES."

Tharos course-corrected at full Alpha speed. Just as she reached the door handle, his palm sealed over her mouth and he yanked her back, cuffing her before the escape plan could finish loading its first frame.

Click. Silver met skin.

He switched from hand to gag with zero lag and the practiced ease of a professional ball-gagger, cinching it tight enough to hold and loose enough she wouldn’t asphyxiate on principle.

"Portal. Don’t make me repeat myself," Tharos ordered the Dark Fae.

The big one locked up mid-lunge like a good boy. The smaller one kept going because the only thing stronger than his brain was his dick-demon instincts, and he was already airborne like a possessed cumrocket.

Guinevere’s boot slammed into that one’s face so hard his clutch-brothers felt it in Eldoria.

"BAD VESSEL! THAT IS IMPURE! BAD!"

Tharos immediately body-checked her onto the bed. She hit the mattress on her stabbed side and the pain that exploded through her made her eyes water.

"SHE SITS. SHE STANDS. SHE BOUNCES. EVERY POSITION IS ACCEPTABLE FOR THE SEEDING—"

"FERTILE VESSEL ON THE BED. BROTHERS, THE BED IS READY FOR SEEDING—"

"Criminey. Make. The. Portal."

✦✦✦

DOMINO 62: MAYBE HE’S BORN WITH IT

GREYHALL CROSSING — GUINEVERE’S CHAMBERS — 5:30 AM

Guinevere was already trying to crawl away from Tharos when he grabbed one of her ankles and yanked her towards him at the foot of the bed.

Fatal error.

Her free leg mule-kicked his balls so hard they briefly left the solar system and the Gods hit the DELETE-TESTICLES button. He folded in on himself in a black hole of pain.

Why is this a domino? Because if Guinevere Lunaris hadn’t done this, everything after wouldn’t have happened.

"His territory marking will never be the same," the smaller demon observed. "He already had a weak stream."

Guinevere scrambled off the bed away from Tharos, accidentally knocking Cassian’s armor over in the process.

The larger one beat her to the door. Fuck. His arms shot out to snatch her. Too slow. She had already pivoted in the opposite direction so he hugged himself like a rejected teddy bear instead.

By the time the big bastard noticed, she was on the other side of the room facing them. It was at this point that she noticed both of the Dark Fae were staring at the Alpha, who was currently cupping himself on the floor. She couldn’t decide if that was good or a warning sign for fucknado 2.0.

"Brother, do wolves regenerate those?"

"I don’t think so."

"Pity. Ours grow back."

"Yours grow BACK?" Tharos wheezed from the floor.

"Of course. For low borns, how else would we survive the mating process?"

"Get her. Now. One of you," Tharos rasped.

"VESSEL ON HER KNEES, VESSEL ON HER BACK!" Both Dark Fae began chanting in unison.

She kicked over a dresser that weighed more than she did, shocking herself with both the strength and the sheer amount of fuck-you energy she was packing. The drawers flew open in perfect sync and vomited their contents everywhere, including Cassian’s neatly packed undergarments.

The smaller demon dove, grabbed a pair, and face-fucked the fabric with both hands, inhaling like it was holy sacrament.

"SACRED GARMENTS. THE VESSEL’S INTIMATE—" His nostrils flared once. "There is another scent here that is male."

The larger one slapped the underwear out of his brother’s hands like they were on fire. He held them up, looked at Guinevere with pure confusion, then back down at the sacred crotch-rag before giving a knowing nod.

"Wolf females absorb male essence through fabric," he explained. "This is how they self-fertilize. I’ve read about this, brother."

"GIVE THEM BACK TO ME. I HAD THEM FIRST!"

One dove for the other so fast Guinevere didn’t understand what was happening until they were rolling on the floor, wrestling over Cassian’s underwear. She made a beeline for the bed, the only escape route to the door that kept her out of the deathmatch crossfire.

"RELEASE THE GARMENT, BROTHER."

"LET GO!"

"YOU LET GO. I NEED TO VERIFY THE SCENT PROFILE."

"ENOUGH," Tharos barked from the floor, still curled around his own junk. "There’s a whole fucking pile right there. Both of you grab one and make the goddamn portal."

At the same creepy second, both Dark Fae jerked their attention to Guinevere, who was currently mid-run on the mattress, halfway across the large bed.

"PIN HER DOWN, BROTHER! VESSEL ON HER KNEES, VESSEL ON HER BACK—"

Both dickmuppet-demons dove for her on the bed. She kicked a pillow into the smaller one’s mouth mid-chant and used the larger one’s wings as a doormat.

"BAD VESSEL. BAD."

"GOOD vessel," the smaller one corrected. "Aggressive vessel. The prophecy—"

"Enough." Tharos hissed from the floor. "Make the fucking portal. Now. No one touches her until I have her father."

"The father is irrelevant. The vessel is HERE. The breeding bench—"

"THERE IS NO BREEDING BENCH."

"Every flat surface is a breeding bench if you believe in yourself."

Guinevere moved the door handle with her elbow and shot through like a cannon, sprinting down the corridor. It was empty, which meant her men had likely left and she was going to have a long, lonely run home provided she could get these cuffs off.

Both Dark Fae barreled after her.

"OW. Brothers, she’s THROWING THINGS. The vessel is resourceful AND violent. My attraction is growing."

"SAME."

"GET BACK HERE." Tharos Stonehowl roared as he launched himself through the doorframe.

At the same moment, Nicholas Shadowfell skidded to a halt at the far end of the hall, chest heaving.

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