The southern hills stretched endlessly under a bruised, late-afternoon sky, the air thick with the scent of dry grass, distant smoke, and the metallic tang of spilled blood. Ethan and Zara rode side by side on stolen syndicate horses, the valley of the failed ritual now a smoldering ruin far behind them.
Zara's powerful beastkin frame moved with predatory grace in the saddle, her dark brown furred ears flicking at every sound, long tufted tail swaying behind her. The torn tribal rags barely clung to her muscular curves — full heavy breasts straining against the leather straps, thick thighs gripping the horse, shaved pussy still visibly swollen and leaking Ethan's thick seed down her inner legs from the brutal claiming hours earlier.
She rode topless, shameless, the red handprints on her ass and the bite marks on her neck proudly displayed. Every few minutes she glanced at Ethan, amber eyes burning with feral devotion, tail twitching with barely restrained need.
"Master…" she growled low, voice husky. "Your seed still drips out of me. Every bounce reminds me who owns this cunt now."
Ethan smirked, cock twitching in his pants at her words. "Good. Let it drip. Let every beastkin we pass smell that you've been bred by a human."
Zara's tail lashed, a needy whimper escaping her fangs. "Ragnar's scent is gone. Only yours. I can feel your pups already taking root."
Ethan chuckled darkly. "We'll make sure of it when we camp tonight. But first — we ride."
The road narrowed into a rocky pass — high cliffs on either side, perfect for ambush. Ethan's Aether Sense tingled — movement above, faint shadows shifting.
"Bandits," he muttered.
Zara's ears pinned back, claws flexing. "I smell them. Six… no, eight. Humans. Weak."
Before Ethan could respond, arrows whistled from the cliffs.
Ethan's Combat Flow activated — time slowed, trajectories glowing. He yanked Zara down, both tumbling from the horses as arrows thudded into the dirt where they'd been.
Bandits poured from the rocks — ragged men in mismatched armor, swords and crossbows raised. Their leader stepped forward last — a tall, voluptuous woman in her late 30s, auburn hair tied in a messy braid, wearing patched leather armor that hugged her thick, fertile body: massive breasts straining the chestplate, wide hips and powerful thighs, green eyes sharp with greed.
"Well, well," the leader purred, voice smoky. "A human hero and his beastkin whore. You're worth a fortune to the syndicate. Hand over the cat-bitch and we might let you walk."
Zara snarled, axe already in hand. "Call me whore again, human, and I'll rip your tongue out."
Ethan stood slowly, sword drawn, eyes locked on the leader. The system pinged:
[High-Value Target Detected: Captain Veyra (Bandit Leader, Married)]
[NTR Potential: High | Status: Married to syndicate lieutenant, neglected, ambitious]
Ethan's lips curled. "You're the wife of one of Kael's men, aren't you? The syndicate's little border tax collector."
Veyra's eyes narrowed. "How do you—"
Ethan moved.
He Shadow Stepped behind the first bandit — sword through the throat before the man could scream. Another blink — two more down, blood spraying. Zara roared, charging into the rest — axe cleaving skulls, claws raking chests, tail whipping like a lash.
The bandits panicked — crossbows firing wild. Ethan weaved through bolts, blade flashing — parry, riposte, decapitation. A swordsman swung at Zara; she caught the blade with her forearm, snarling, then slammed her axe into his chest, splitting ribs.
Veyra fired her own crossbow at Ethan — he rolled, bolt grazing his shoulder. He closed the distance in a blur, disarming her with a twist, sword at her throat.
The remaining bandits dropped weapons, fleeing.
Zara grabbed the last one, slamming him to the ground, axe raised. "Master?"
"Leave him," Ethan said. "He'll spread the word."
The bandit scrambled away.
Ethan turned to Veyra. She stood defiant, chest heaving, massive breasts rising and falling, nipples visibly hard through the leather. The claim had already started — her thighs rubbed together, green eyes glazing.
"You're not going to kill me," she breathed. "You want something else."
Ethan stepped close, sword tip tracing her collarbone. "You're right. I want you on your knees. Begging. But not here."
He leaned in, lips brushing her ear. "Tell your husband the human who will fuck his wife is coming for him."
Veyra shivered, a soft moan escaping. "You bastard… I'll… I'll kill you…"
But her body betrayed her — pussy visibly wet through her pants, scent of arousal thick.
Ethan stepped back. "Run. Tell him Ethan is coming. And tell him his wife's cunt is already dripping for me."
Veyra backed away, eyes wide, then turned and fled.
Zara growled low. "Why let her go, Master?"
Ethan sheathed his sword. "Because fear spreads faster than death. And when I claim her… it'll be sweeter knowing she fought it."
Zara's tail lashed, amber eyes burning. "Then let's make camp. I need you to remind me who I belong to… again."
Ethan grinned. "Soon, beast. Very soon."
The sun dipped lower, the road ahead dark and full of promise.
To be continued…