Perhaps changed most of all out of all of the packs is this place. It was stripped out of its forested home and now instead lays at the edge of an ocean. The vast sparkling eternity of the water lays to the south of the land, while the rest of the land is made of rocky outjuttings. Gone are the trees, and all that remains for greenery are the short shrubs that dot the paths in the rock, and the moss that grows thanks to the spray of the waves. Further toward the shore, barnacles are a plenty, and look to cut the pads of those who slip on the wet surface. These extend out into the water itself, and the tough land has multiple caverns scraped into it, providing ample dens for the wolves that live there. Depending on the tide, however, the lower caverns may flood, and the vicious swirling water may prove to be dangerous as there is a strong undertide ready to pull unsuspecting swimmers to their doom. Even the tide itself is powerful enough to push intruders against one cliff or another. The ocean does provide, however, plenty of food for those who brave the waters - there are many breeds of seals and sea lions, though the males that protect each of these are vicious and territorial. There are also turtles that come ashore to breed and to lay their eggs - both the adults and the eggs themselves can provide sustenance to the wolves. But they must take care - the water is deep enough to allow sharks to come to shore from the depths below. Those unwilling to venture the waves or wet their paws with the moist sand of the shore can find snakes and hares in the rocky outcroppings, but they must beware the Komodo dragon and other monitor lizards that perch upon the shore - they are swift and move in groups, not to mention they carry venom in their bite that causes immense pain, paralysis, and prevents blood clotting. This is not the land for the weak of heart or the weak at all really. This is Uyaraut - ‘The Diamond in the Rough’.




The Iberian Queen had already left him, extricating her delicate firebird frame from under his snowdrift bulk with the grace of a practiced seductress. Though she must have been exhausted from their explosive passion, she gave no indication; Kershov had watched her saunter from the mouth of his den while his strong limbs trembled and heat continued to devour his body in great waves of flame. His onyx stare did not leave her sleek russet back or the gentle sway of her slender hips until her silhouette disappeared over the horizon. It was as if the wolfess had cast a terrible, ravenous curse upon him . . . and the merciless alpha felt helplessly spellbound by her touch. Their claw marks slashed the inside of his private quarters. The heady cocktail of their lust-infused scents flooded his bed and poured out into the crisp night air, waves of warmth that even now had Kershov’s mouth watering and his blood boiling red-hot under the alabaster ice of his pelt. The memory of the sensation of her perfectly smooth robes sliding under the powerful undulations of his abdominals sent violent shivers up his back. Ker wanted to crawl out of his flesh. He wanted to cut into his guts and rip out whatever torturous hex his mysterious lover had infected him with. His tongue passed over the exposed ridges of his teeth, and he still tasted the honeyed sweetness of her nectar. Damn you, woman. The Ethiopian damsel had certainly tricked him somehow. This was not the way he was supposed to feel after hours of ferocious sex—if anything, though his stamina begged for rest, the rest of his manhood demanded satisfaction. Kershov had not truly been sated. And as he stood there in the cold, the crash of waves pulsing in his ears, the frostbitten Pharaoh knew that if he did not find a way to soothe this ache immediately he would surely go mad.

Delirious with arousal as he was, Kershov did not realize how close he passed to Athene’s den until he loomed directly outside its threshold. Sides heaving. Muzzle weaving through the air, inhaling her scent through his parted mouth like a serpent on the hunt. His paragon of a warrioress was also in heat . . . he could sense her readiness, her temptation, as if it were a physical force stroking his fur. A low, pained moan slid from his fangs before he could swallow it back. He sounded pathetic . . . no better than a common cur whimpering for the attention of a harlot. Should he crawl to her on his belly like a slug, as well? Oh, yes—she’d ADORE that, wouldn’t she? Her courageous Emperor weak as a pup at her paws? Ker’s voice deepened into a restrained growl as he tried backing away to collect himself. He thought—incorrectly—that forcing distance between himself and the most agonizing enticement imaginable might give him precious time. Surely whatever poison the cinnamon-hued lady had offered would metabolize by morning, and Kershov would have his wits once more. He could approach Athene with a clear mind, and . . . professionally initiate the production of pups he had promised her. This nauseating lack of control he had over his own filthy urges had the Destroyer gagging on the snarl in his throat. Get a hold of yourself, you great horny fool. Do not go into her den, do not go into her den . . .

Too late. Bottomless black eyes that had pressed shut to block out the hidden entrance to Athene’s boudoir flickered open in horrified shock to discover Kershov hovering even closer to the she-wolf’s bed. His talons scraped at the pebbled ground just outside, his subconscious pushing him to alert her to his presence. If Athene had not already realized his was there—if not from his rumbling or from the overpowering cologne of sex and stranger clinging incriminatingly to his canvas—she’d surely know now. He unleashed a long, shuddering breath, his heart slamming viciously against his breast bone as his body prepared for another glorious tumble. “Madame Athene,” Kershov exhaled her name like a prayer. A supplication. An invitation. “I require your most astute assistance to alleviate a rather pressing condition. You may find that in helping me, I can simultaneously deliver on our . . . previous agreement.”


【King of Uyaraut – tied to none – father to Kirastasia and Kavik – xathira】


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