"Brother, you're still recovering. Don't dive into that hole."
The wind whistled. Anton and Rinne turned to Arkai with deadpanned eyes. Apparently, it was serious.
Gregor and Thalia, a few paces away attending to their own lines, locked their lips tight, their shoulders shaking with repressed laughter.
Piotr, young and curious, merely blinked, his eyes darting between the two imposing lords sitting side by side like grumpy statues. This was, indeed, his first time seeing a beast exuding the thick, pheromone-heavy scent of a rut-cycle despite being leagues away from his bonded mate.
Fascinating.
But of course, they didn't know. They couldn't possibly fathom the maddening torture Arkai Dawnoro was currently enduring.
Sex by proxy.
Every. Damn. Night.
