The ancient rite has one purpose.
To decide who claims the female.
Not with teeth.
With c**k.
With dominance. With possession.
With her body as the battleground.
The courtyard is silent as the circle is drawn.
Black stones, ash, and blood—runes from a time when wolves ruled mountains and flesh was the offering.
Vera kneels in the center, trembling. The collar glows red against her throat. Her lips are parted, sweat beading between her breasts.
She’s naked.
Cuffed.
Wet.
Dripping onto sacred stone like a sacrament.
Rael stands to her left, shirtless, c**k already thick and leaking. His stare is calm and murderous. He hasn’t touched her since the throne.
But his scent is all over her.
Marcus stands to her right, grinning like he’s already won. His eyes are fixed on her parted t
