Page 1 of Hangman's Knot
Prologue
Eden
???
Her heart drops when she sees them. The sight of her alphas naked and restrained by the heavy metal shock collars around their necks, a backup measure in case they go feral and need to be subdued, sends a sickening chill through her body. Their muscles ripple and their cocks, swollen with rut, rest heavily against their thick thighs.
A moment later, moving faster than she can see, her alphas surround her. They close around her on all sides, crowding her between their bodies to shield her from the prickling, voyeuristic gazes in the security cameras, so the guards will not be able to see a single shred of her skin, only them.
She is pushed up against a wall and they inch closer, touching as much of her body as possible, six hands wandering over her and overwhelming her senses after being alone so long.
All the emptiness, the pain, the horrible plaguing fear that keeps her awake at night and constantly sits in her stomach like a ball of lead suddenly disappear all at once. Ironic, given the danger she's just freely walked herself right into.
Their touch is warm, the heat radiating from their bodies a stark contrast to the cold and damp of the room, offering her a sense of safety even in this awful place. There is a musty bed in the corner, not even a sheet on it, that smells like a stale web of awful, unspeakable things. There are no nesting materials, no comforts except her mate's bodies. They shift her to the opposite wall, as far from that bed and the door as they can get her.
A reassuring purr rumbles in their chests, their hands soft and petting against her, not seeking sexual contact despite the urgency she knows they must feel after their separation and the rut that she can feel gnawing on them, the emotions through the bond already muted with the madness. The reason for her visit. They wait for her to calm, offering only chaste petting until she relaxes, until all that she can feel is their touch.
"Eden," Luke's voice rumbles like a gentle purr, and it feels like a caress as he whispers her name into her skin.
Tenor runs his hands over her body. "You're too skinny. Have you been eating properly? Who's feeding you, baby?"
She hesitates, biting her lip and feeling guilty for keeping secrets from them. It felt like walking through burning glass keeping secrets from her mates, but telling them the truth about how much she was struggling would only make it worse. There was nothing they could do but worry, and they didn't need any more trouble than they already had.
"I'm eating," she finally says. She was, although every bite she ate turned into bitter ash her stomach. As if their absence were a poison seeping through her until she wasted away to nothing. She never thought anything could make her miss the prison slop she shared with them, but now every meal she feeds herself is a reminder of their absence, and she finds herself yearning for even the ambiguous mystery meats, as long as they were the ones holding the spoon.
Julius says nothing, only runs his nose along her neck, breathing in the sweet omega scent of her skin. His hips press his erection against her, as if it is seeking contact, any contact, with her body. His need is palpable in the air, coming off him in thick waves that crash into her like the tide.
"Need you," Tenor groans, and their petting hands become more urgent. She cannot tell whose hands are whose, lost in the dizzying sensations that are building inside her.
She can smell their rutting hormones in the air and she feels it going to her head, filling her with an aching, heavy need. She won't fall into a full heat, she can tell from how weak her body is and with such little time she has to prepare, but her body will still respond to them. Already she can feel her slick dripping down her legs, readying her to be filled by them.
Her mates work together seamlessly, adjusting her position without a word, their nostrils flaring as her scent fills the space around her, meeting their own in a tangle. Her back is pressed against Luke's front, his strong arms enclosing her and his head ducking to run his lips over their bite marks on her neck. Tenor crowds in at her side, still shielding her from the cameras, his hands roaming over her stomach and up her body to cup her breasts.
They do not undress her any more than necessary, despite not wearing a shred of clothing themselves. She knows the guards are watching them through the camera feed like it's their own personal live show, trying to catch a glimpse of her body, trying to see things not meant for their eyes. She knows that knowledge fills her mates with rage. Yet they hold it in check, keeping themselves under control and focusing only on her.
Julius steps forward, standing in front of her and hiking up her dress to her waist as he pulls her hips up to him. She automatically wraps her legs around him, and then his cock islining up perfectly with her slick entrance.
It's too soon, she's still tense at the thought of the guards, at their scents lingering in the air, at being in this place. He nudges up against her slit, teasing and gently seeking without taking. They had never forced her. Not once. She had never been safer than she was with them.
As she looks at his face, her tension and fear seem to relax. He is beautiful—more beautiful than any man has a right to be—with short cropped blond hair, a chiseled jaw, and a straight patrician nose. His piercing blue eyes bore into her, a tangible weight on her flesh.
"That's our good girl," he purrs as he feels her entrance relax slightly, permitting him entry. His pupils are blown wide, his mouth twisted into an animalistic snarl in such sharp contrast to his gentle words.
He begins to move slowly, his movement more of a soft rocking than thrusting. He encases his cock inside her inch by inch just like he did that first time. A low growl rumbles in his throat as he finally bottoms out inside her. His pelvis presses against hers, nudging her clitoris with every movement.
She can feel his violent need emanating from every inch of his body, visible in the tightness in his eyes and the hands holding her to him. She knows that his rut is gnawing at him, urging him to take her, fuck her, breed her. But he holds it in, restraining himself, for her. They should have had days together to prepare, to ready her body, to allow their hormones and bond to sync, so that her own heat cycle would respond naturally to their needs.
This was not the sort of place that allowed such mercies. The only reason they were granted this rare visit was to keep down the homicides, so their raging hormones wouldn't set off the rest of the alphas in this place and turn it into a blood bath. She knew they were going to have to fuck her whether she was readyor not, whether she was comfortable or not.
"It's okay," she breathes, giving him the permission he needs. "Please alpha, I want you."
He loses himself then, his hips thrusting into her seemingly on their own volition. His hands tighten as he snaps back into her again and again. The brutal, punishing pace chafes at her body, but she relishes in it. Her alphas surround her. At last, she is not alone. Even being in a prison surrounded by the most violent alphas, she was always safe with them.
"Please," she begs, her orgasm building from the force of his thrusts and his scent in her nose. There is no artistry to his claiming, but it overtakes her body all the same.
He snarls and slams back into her once, twice, thrice, and she comes. The ripples of her body trigger his own release, and he presses his cock as deep as it can go while his knot swells, locking them together. It had been too long since she had borne the burden of a knot, and she whines a little at the pinch as she stretches to accommodate him.
He shushes her, nuzzling and rocking his hips against her clitoris, giving her pleasure to ignore the pain. He cannot resist pressing it deeper, urging more of his seed to coat her insides.
