Page 72 of The Thren's Fated

After another deep breath, she looked Screl in the eye, easing herself down as the pleasant fullness sent another jolt through her. She was filled to the brim, ridges brushing her tender interior as Screl bucked into her, needing to give her the release she so desperately craved.

“Give me your seed, amoreth.”

She enjoyed the way his eyes widened as she sent the message his way.

Screl grunted, filling her with cum, her muscles clenching around him as he painted her interior. The spot between her chest glowed bright, that same strange blue as before, a sense of rightness filling her with bliss.

Even if she tried to deny it, this was where she belonged.

Before she could stop herself, she pressed a quick kiss to his lips, his body slack and his own chest flickering with a mirrored glow. She pressed a palm to the spot, heat tingling her fingers and spreading up her arm.

A voice broke through the blissful silence, jolting Lena back to the room.

“So, my offspring was telling the truth.”

Without looking at the Sovereign, Lena slid off Screl’s lap, mourning the loss of his warmth as his seed trickled down her thighs. She quickly dressed, then pulled his pants up, zipping them as best she could.

When she turned, the Sovereign’s eyes were glued to her, a cruel grin on his face.

“Father, I think it is time to let Rohieth and his fated go.”

Vottol was standing in front of her throne, making her way over to them with her mouth pursed into a thin line. She helped Screl up, nodding to a Thren standing behind her chair who hurried and took over supporting the injured prince.

“I suppose so. You were the last of my offspring, and always the most disappointing. It is no wonder that the cosmos have cursed you like this.”

Screl glared, a low growl rumbling in his chest.

“The cosmos have done nothing but bless me, and I will do anything to cherish my mate in a way you never could. My mate will never know pain or hardship, only love and devotion. I will forever be grateful to the Gods for blessing me with my amoreth. And for ridding me of you.”

The Sovereign glared, and Screl wrapped his arm around Lena’s waist, standing his ground in a way that made her swell with pride.

“Be gone, Rohieth. You are no longer my offspring, nor my heir.”

Screl didn’t bother to say another word as he stumbled off the dais, keeping a firm grip on her even as the other Thren supported him. Lena’s last look into the throne room revealed Princess Vottol speaking to the Sovereign before they both disappeared from view.

Lena and Screl were deposited in a room, the same one as before as far as she could tell. Screl slumped onto the bed, and she rushed to his side, trying to find a place to put her hands that wouldn’t touch a dark bruise.

“You came back,” he said without looking at her, rubbing his wrists, which were raw from the cuffs.

“I did,” she replied, hovering awkwardly near the bed.

“Why?” he asked, finally glancing her way with a look of pure despair.

The sensation pierced her heart, all the fear and self-loathing he felt coursing through her veins like they belonged to her.

Gently, she took one of his hands, trying to find the right thing to say, but before she could give her answer, a beeping at the door interrupted them, and Lena began to tremble, Screl’s fear turning into her own.

“Who is it?” he called, standing up with difficulty and placing himself in front of her.

“It is me,” a high-pitched voice hissed, and Screl hurried over, his tentacle grazing the wall and the door whirring open.

Vottol.

“You must leave at once before Father changes his mind,” she said, not bothering with any preamble as she entered the room in a flutter of robes. “I have secured a small ship for you that will take you away from here. There are a few of your crew members who wish to stay with you, but not many.”

She winced, giving her sibling a solemn look as he placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Thank you, Vottol. I appreciate all you have done for me. For us.”