ARIYAN woke with tears in his eyes. It was the first time in five days that he could remember where he was. The heat had robbed him of his sense, and turned him into a mindless vessel to be filled.

Anatoly had left a tray of food on his end table. The porridge was lukewarm, but water in the kettle was still hot. Peering around the room, Ariyan could see Anatoly had tidied up. The food trays that previously littered the floors were gone. He’d changed the bed sheets Ariyan was sleeping on, and it looked as though he’d organized his belongings. Looking closer, he could see that Anatoly had even neatened his trunk.

Shit.

As Ariyan shifted he could feel the ache in his back and hips. His chest was littered with marks. Some black and blue, others fresh pink. Even last night Erik had taken him. Riding out the last embers of his heat induced lust. Ariyan had been somewhat cognizant then. Enough to remember the feel of the lord’s cock slamming into him, and sparks of pleasure that shot through his groin.

Hgnn! Erik!

An evocation of his whining voice slammed against him, and Ariyan shuddered, holding back his urge to hurl. The image of himself begging to be fucked, the smell of his sweet slick, and Erik’s stringent cum dripping from between his legs. It was so real and potent it made him sick to his stomach. He wished it was just some nauseating dream, but it had happened. He knew it from the satisfied ache of his hole, and the marks on his skin, and the scent of sex fused into his tangled blond hair.

The hidden compartment in the chest was a small rip in the fabric. It looked ordinary enough, but when he pulled the fabric back there was an uneven piece of wood. Ariyan shifted the wood, flipping it up with the tip of his finger, and breathed a sigh of relief.

"Thank the gods..." The herbs were still there. Untouched and preserved in the small glass container for freshness.

Ariyan uncapped the lid and took a sniff.

A grimace.

Before he let the smell of it discourage him Ariyan recapped the container, and went over to grab the kettle and cup. His mother had told him the best way to administer herbs was always to drink them, and the longer he waited, the less effective they would be.

Ariyan uncapped the lid, slowly this time, crushing the herbs up into specs in his hand, and sprinkling the deathly dredge into the flower emblazoned cup. He poured the hot water over the herbs, watching the cloud of smoke billow. Ariyan inhaled a puff when he coughed, and he had to cover his mouth to hold back the bile in his throat. The smell was so putrid it made Ariyan cringe as he stirred the herbs into the water. Even when he'd dissolved them completely, it looked like the murky swamp water of Gaitland.

He and his brother used to fish there. Right along the river bank where the wild willows hung right over the water’s edge. They were children then. Young. Simple. Easy, and without a care in the world. That was before betrothals, and namesakes, and duties. Before the word omega and alpha mattered. Before Austin was gone. Before mating and heats. Before he realized what it meant to be bonded to an alpha.

Pain…suffering…

Erik had bred him. How many times, Ariyan didn't know, but they were both in their prime, and the chances of him conceiving were too high.

He stared down at the sludge in his cup and swallowed down the frothy saliva in his throat. He wasn't breathing in the smell, but the sourness still bubbled in his gut.

If he was pregnant...and he drank this....

If he drank this.

If he drank this.

He remembered his mother’s words.

“There’s an herb called black cohosh, it will help purge your system of anything…unwanted.”

If he drank this, it would rid his womb of any and everything.

~Is that what you want?~

'Yes', he thought in answer to his own question. It was just as he'd told Anatoly. The thought of having Erik's child made him sick to his stomach, and yet, it wasn't just Erik's child. It was his child too.

If Austin was alive he would slap him for even considering such a thing. He would assert the child’s innocence, claim the seed as kin, and make Ariyan promise that he wouldn’t rid himself of anything that was half his own.

‘It’s a part of you...' Austin would have said if he was alive, but he wasn’t. Erik had seen to that.

The rage he’d discarded for the past five days came back to him in full. The child might have been a part of Ariyan, but it was also a part of him. The demon.

Ariyan clenched his jaw.

His belly would be full from Erik’s seed. The man who'd raped him. Broke him. Murdered his family.

Tears welled in Ariyan’s emerald eyes.

Austin was dead because of him. His father was dead because of him. His child would never know his family, because of the savage who'd ravaged his life.

Ariyan squeezed the cup between his hands, his nostrils flaring slightly. Tears begin to fall down his delicate cheek bones.

If he drank this…

Ariyan raised the cup to his mouth, and squeezed his eyes shut. Through the darkness, the image of a child swam before him. Ariyan inhaled, and eyes, like the forest of Gaitland, stared back at him curiously. His hair was dark and thick like the cloak of twilight, his skin the color of warm desert sand. His face was Erik’s, strong, and masculine, even in infancy. He was Erik’s likeness, but those eyes did not belong to a demon…. they belonged to his son.