The rest of the men were losing their minds.
Tommy sweated through his shirt, his water magic forming rainstorms to cool him down.
Marx and Legend grappled viciously, faces twisted in animal fury. Marx sneered, "Try harder, circus boy," his hands clamped tight on Legend's wrists. Legend snarled back, "Keep dreaming, puppet; Felicity's not looking for a mute."
They knew their place. Never in the inner circl they were just "guardians," not "husbands." Still, the dizzying, primal ache, her scent thick with their leaders' claim, burned in their veins, wobbling their discipline with need.
A battle cry ripped through the tense air as Marx landed a devastating blow on Legend's jaw, rage flickering in his eyes. Legend flew back, shock and pain etched across his face. "Woot, first one, I'm lvl 95 now," Marx said smugly, adrenaline making his frame seem more imposing, more lethal.
