Damien’s lips curled into a predatory smile. "Then they’ll learn the price of blasphemy. Death. But she’ll come. Her scent, her boldness… she wants this as badly as I do. I could smell how soaked she was. How her body begged for my knot even as she fled."

As Ryker began drafting the letters, Damien excused himself and retreated to his private chambers. The heavy door slammed shut behind him. He stripped off his shirt, revealing a sculpted torso marked with old battle scars, a map of violence and dominance. His cock was painfully hard, the thick veined length jutting out aggressively as he shoved his pants down.

He lay...