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Around them the other males—the older one must be the leader of this groups—cheered and hollered encouragement. I saw some reach under their kilts, stroking their own cocks as they watched this entertainment .

The woman…

He held her arms tightly, and with each thrust she yelped loudly. Was that pain and fear, or something else?

With a roar, the older male stood, taking her with him.

Still holding her wrists, he tipped her forward, fooking her hard from behind.

Her cries became louder, turning to shrieks, and when she screamed—long and wavering, was that another climax, as the male pulled her against him hard?

—the other males of the band whooped their encouragement.

‘Twas a display of barbarism that turned my stomach…but inside, my Kteer howled to join in, to participate. I couldn’t fook that stranger, but I could fook my Mate. I could pin Myra down and plow into her, planting my seed deep in her womb to watch my kitling grow.

Gods below, I wanted that.

But I wanted her to want that too.

When I’d looked away, my gaze had landed on the other chief, the one who wore the rings in his ears. To my surprise, neither he nor his men looked interested in participating in the spectacle.

His expression was terrifyingly impassive, and when one of his men gestured to the public fooking, he shook his head and made a slashing movement with his hand, turning away .

And the rest of his men followed his example, turning their attention to the darkness instead of the woman’s muffled cries.

Who was he?

“Vartok,” Myra whispered, and I remembered she was watching this horror.

Without thinking, I breathed, “I can save her. I’ll need to leave ye here, but?—”

“Do not be stupid.” She clucked her tongue quietly. “You would be killed. Besides, I am not certain she needs saving.”

Below, the heavy man had turned the woman about so she was facing him, and now she hung from his neck, her legs around his waist, as he pumped into her. I had to admit that she was clutching at him, her yelps and cries matching his, sounding more like pleasure than pain.

“She cannae be enjoying herself,” I muttered, second-guessing what I was seeing, but Myra patted my hand.

“There are some women who like being the center of attention. And some who enjoy being used in public.”

Her words triggered a memory in me, something I’d heard about the Battleborn chief to the south, and what he got up to with his Mate, and I winced.

“How do ye ken such things?”

“Because you were doing it to me earlier today, and I found it quite stimulating.”

I could hear her smirk, despite her whisper, and I shifted, my cock twitching beneath my kilt. ‘Twas common for Highland chiefs to publicly breed their Mates, so the clan would know their next chief was conceived.

Obviously, I’d never seen such a display—Kragorn was unMated, but we’d been conceived during such a public breeding. I shook my head, torn between arousal and disgust.

My Kteer , on the other hand, was verra interested in the display below. That, more than anything, had me rolling to my side, determined to ignore the spectacle below as I reached for Myra.

“So ye’re saying ye dinnae think I have to rush down there to save her?”

My Mate placed her hand on my cheek. “I think if you did, we might both end up dead. The Battleborn are our enemies, aye?”

In an attempt to ignore my guilt, I grasped the excuse she offered.

“Aye. Well…” I sighed and admitted the truth. “No’ really. They are fierce warriors who have few allies, and we dinnae count ourselves among them. But Clan Bloodfire is no’ their enemy either.”

Yet.

Myra heard the unspoken word.

“But we would be if the Bloodfire chief hurled himself into what appears to be some kind of public celebration and demanded the Battleborn chief cease his entertainment?”

I allowed myself a low chuckle as I buried my face in the crook of her neck. “How do ye ken so much about the ways of our people? ”

“Because they are my people as well.” She poked me. “So stop feeling guilty.”

Och, she knew me well. “I’ve heard rumors that the sept of the clan south of us has a chief who enjoys exhibitionism with his Mate,” I whispered.

“And I have heard…” I felt her swallow. “Is this not traditional?”

Sighing, I kissed her neck, realizing I couldn’t avoid her question.

“’Tis tradition for the chief to claim his Mate in a public breeding ceremony. That way the clan kens his heir will be planted in his Mate’s womb, and their future will be secured.”

Her fingers tightened in my braids.

“ Every chief does such a thing?”

Realization slammed into me, and I lifted my head, eyes opened wide as my gaze met hers in the darkness.

“I am no’ the true Bloodfire chief, Myra. I’m just…sort of filling in for Kragorn. Aye?”

I could feel her uncertainty and rushed to reassure her.

“Love, even if we received word of Kragorn’s death”— Gods forbid !—“I would no’ force ye to undergo such a public display if ye werenae comfortable with it. Besides, we’ve already come together countless times.”

Was her smile too weak when she whispered, “But none of them have truly been…”

She trailed off, and I winced, thinking of how I’d been careful to spill outside her body each time. I hadn’t yet claimed her.

“And, Vartok… I am not your Mate, so ‘tis irrelevant. You would claim your Mate in front of the clan, aye?”

Gods below . Biting down on my groan of helplessness and my Kteer’s rage, I buried my head in the crook of her neck once more. How to answer her?

Tell her she’s yer Mate, ye dobber . Tell her ye love her.

Now? Here?

I took a deep breath, but Myra beat me to speaking.

“Is that what is happening down there? The chief is claiming his Mate?”

Grateful for the excuse to change the subject, I grunted a negative. “Usually ‘tis only the first time he fooks her.”

“Well…” Myra’s fingers stroked the back of my head. “’Tis possible they both decided they enjoy such displays. It certainly sounds as if they—and the rest of the clan—are enjoying it. But…” Her fingers stilled. “We are not the only ones who are uncertain how to respond. Look.”

I lifted my head to see her nodding to the male I thought might be Vrogul. His arms were folded and he was staring defiantly into the darkness, his back to the spectacle around the fire.

“I kenned I liked him,” I muttered, and Myra gave a little giggle, nudging me in the side.

“While we have been here staring down at them, I realized something. You see that spiky-looking bush right below us? ”

I followed her pointing finger. “Dinnae tell me. Sea holly?”

“We can come back in the daylight to harvest the rest of it, but for now…”

With a little grunt, she rolled away from me, squirming toward the edge of the cliff.

“I will fetch that plant.”

“Nay,” I hissed, but ‘twas too late.

Myra tipped forward, supporting her weight on her hands, reaching for the plant…and the scree beneath her gave way. She did naught so crass as scream in surprise, but she did gasp as she tumbled forward.

Had I not pinned her calves, she might have gone over the cliff.

She’s safe, she’s safe , I told my howling Kteer .

Indeed, we were both panting in fear as I pulled her back up and wrapped my arms around her.

“On…the other hand…” she rasped. “Mayhap…that plant…can wait.”

I swallowed, my hold on her tightening, thinking of how close she came to doom.

If she’d fallen, she might have survived. But waiting below…

“What would they…have done to me, Vartok?” She shuddered, burrowing closer to my chest. “If I’d fallen. What would they have…done?”

Would the Battleborn have pinned my Mate to the sand and used her the way that female was being used? Or were they more honorable than that? I swallowed, trying to ease the band of fear around my chest.

“It doesnae matter, dkaar . I have ye. Ye didnae fall, and nae one kens ye’re here. We’re safe.”

“Thank God,” she breathed against my chest.

But when I risked a glance over the edge of the cliff, I almost started in surprise.

Because even though Myra didn’t fall, she had knocked pieces of the scree over the edge of the cliff, and our mishap hadn’t gone unnoticed.

Far below, his ear rings glistening in the firelight, Vrogul Stormseeker stared up at us.

I resisted the urge to yank her backward, out of the other male’s sight. I told myself no matter how accomplished a warrior the sea raider was, he didn’t have supernatural senses. He couldn’t see this far into the darkness.

We should be safe up here.

But as I carefully eased my Mate away from that piercing gaze, I had to wonder: if the Battleborn did know we were here, how safe could we be?