The communal hut reeks of old sex and fresh submission. Lira's scent still hangs heavy: feline jasmine mixed with the thick musk of the master who just filled her until she cried with pleasure. I'm in the darkest corner, back pressed against the cold wood, knees drawn tight to my chest. My thighs tremble. Not from the cold.
From rage. From desire. From both at once.
I heard every thrust. Every muffled moan Lira tried to swallow. Every "Master… more… fill me…" that spilled from her throat like a prayer. And when she came—that broken scream she couldn't hold back even while biting her arm—I felt my own pussy clench around nothing, betraying me again. A hot spurt slid down my inner thigh and fell silently to the floor. No one saw. Or maybe they did. I don't care anymore.
I look at the others. Mara, Kas, and the mottled one sleep sprawled near the center, legs splayed, dried semen gleaming on their skin under the dying ember light. They're broken. Happy in their defeat. I'm not.
Not yet.
I rise without a sound. Ears pricked, tail tucked tight against my body so it won't brush anything. I slip between sleeping forms. A hand—Nia's—twitches in her sleep and nearly grazes my ankle. I freeze. My heart hammers in my throat. Nia purrs low and stills again.
I keep moving.
The back door of the hut is ajar, just a crack. I push with my shoulder. Night air hits my face: cool, clean, scented with pine and damp earth. Freedom three steps away.
But I don't run yet.
I pause on the threshold. Look back one last time.
Kai is there, at the far end, Lira curled against his chest like a satisfied kitten. His hand rests possessively on the nape of her neck. He sleeps. Or pretends to. His eyes open for an instant—just a silver glint in the dark—and lock onto mine.
He sees me.
He doesn't move. Doesn't shout. Just watches.
And smiles.
Slow. Dark. As if he already knows what I'm going to do before I do.
My pussy clenches again. Hard. Painful. I feel another hot thread slide down my leg. I hate my body. I hate that it betrays me every time he looks at me like that.
I take one step outside.
Then another.
The forest swallows me. I run.
I don't look back. I can't. If I do, I know I'll crawl back, begging for a collar like the rest.
I run until my lungs burn and my legs shake. I hide behind a fallen tree, drop to my knees. Press my forehead to the rough bark. Hot tears burn my cheeks.
It isn't fear.
It's fury.
Fury because part of me—the part that gets wet every time he denies me, the part that throbs when I watch him fuck someone else—wants to go back. Wants to kneel. Wants to open my mouth and beg him to use me the way he used the three tonight.
But the other part—the one that still remembers being a warrior, the one that still carries scars from battles I won alone—screams to run. To not surrender. To not become another Lira, another Mira, another Sylva.
I breathe deep. Wipe the tears with the back of my hand. Stand.
A twig snaps.
To my left.
Ears forward. Tail rigid.
I'm not alone.
A shadow moves between the trees. Tall. Silent. Scent of jasmine and masculine musk.
Kai.
He didn't stay behind. He followed.
He walks slowly toward me, cock still half-hard, outlined beneath loose pants, bare torso gleaming with night sweat. He stops three paces away.
He says nothing.
Just looks at me.
And extends his hand.
Open. Palm up.
It isn't an order.
It's an invitation.
My whole body shakes. Pussy throbbing so hard it hurts. Legs weak.
I take one step toward him.
Then another.
When I'm close enough to smell him—sweat, sex, power—I lift my gaze.
His eyes gleam.
"Last chance, Vira," he murmurs hoarsely. "Run… or kneel."
My knees give before I can choose.
I fall.
In front of him.
In front of his crotch.
And when my lips brush the hot fabric, I know I've already lost.
But a tiny voice inside—the last spark of pride—whispers:
"It isn't over yet."