Page 21

Story: Chimera's Prisoner

As I prepare, I catch myself touching the blood bond marks again—tracing the raised patterns that map territory I don't control. The unconscious gesture pisses me off more each timeI notice it. These marks have created reflexes that bypass my brain, responses built into my body below the level of thought.

But programming can be fought with conscious effort and smart planning. The marks influence my body, but they don't control my mind. They make escape harder, not impossible.

Whatever happens when Captain Kain arrives, I need to act from calculation instead of panic. The blood bond is one factor in a complex situation, not the thing that decides everything.

I am more than what's carved into my skin. More than reflexes I can't control. More than claimed property or medical asset or breeding vessel.

I am Amelia Miller. Nurse. Survivor. Fighter.

And I will find my way back to freedom, whether that path opens today or takes longer planning. The Feline arrival just adds new pieces to consider.

Outside, distant wingbeats fade as Vex moves to intercept the approaching patrol. Inside, I keep preparing for whatever chances his absence might create.

"Let's see what you've brought me, Captain Kain," I mutter to the empty cave, checking medical supplies one last time. "And whether your timing creates the opening I've been waiting for."

CHAPTER 10

RIVAL CLAIMS

Vex's POV

Their stench hits me before I see them—Feline patrol, rank with sweat and territorial piss-marking. Six of them picking their way along the eastern ridge where the boundary stones should have warned them off. This isn't accidental trespass. This is deliberate challenge, a test of my territorial strength.

Rage builds beneath my scales like molten metal, heat spreading from my core outward until my skin feels like it's burning. These cats think they can stroll into my domain after what I've done? After I've claimed her, marked her, bonded her blood to mine? My claws slide out involuntarily, scraping against stone before I force them back. Control first. Violence if they push too far.

I emerge from the den with measured steps, each footfall deliberate and loud enough to announce my presence. My wings stay neutral though every fiber screams to spread them wide, to show these intruders exactly what kind of predator they're challenging. The narrow ledge barely accommodates their formation—five beta soldiers in standard enforcement gear, one alpha whose spotted pattern makes my lip curl with recognition.

Captain Kain. Feline Enforcement Division. Arrogant bastard who thinks paperwork trumps primal law.

Amelia's scent clings to my skin like a second layer, feeds the possessive fire burning in my chest with each breath I take. She's still soft from the heat cycle, still carrying traces of my seed in her body, still wearing the territorial marks I carved into her throat during the blood bonding. Every molecule of air reminds me of how she surrendered beneath me, how she took my knot so perfectly, how her blood tasted when it mixed with mine. And now this spotted intruder thinks he can waltz in and claim what I've taken?

"Territorial violation," I state, keeping my voice level despite the urge to roar challenge across the peaks. "State your business or leave my mountain."

Kain steps forward with that liquid feline grace that's always struck me as weakness dressed up in fancy movements. His amber eyes assess me like I'm some puzzle to solve, looking for cracks in my armor, for openings to exploit. The predator in me recognizes another predator, but he won't find the vulnerabilities he's searching for. Not when it comes to her.

"Captain Kain, Feline Enforcement Division," he announces with the bureaucratic precision that reeks of Council boot-licking. "We're tracking missing property from a crashed transport. Our sensors indicate the omega asset is currently within your..." he pauses deliberately, letting the insult hang in the air, "cave system."

The calculated insults cut deep, each word chosen to diminish and provoke. Property. Asset. Cave system instead of den. My cock stirs at the violent thoughts racing through my mind—dragging her out here, bending her over the stone ledge, and showing this cat exactly how thoroughly she belongs to me. Let him hear her scream my name while I claim her. Let him smell my seed dripping from her thighs afterward.

"The omega was claimed after your convoy lost control and got scattered by the storm," I growl back, letting some of my territorial anger bleed through. "Abandonment under Conquest Law, Section 12. She's part of my territory now."

Those spotted ears twitch dismissively, a gesture that makes my tail lash behind me. "Convenient interpretation. That omega was being transported under official Council documentation to authorized breeding facilities."

Council papers. Bureaucrats thinking their stamps and seals matter more than blood and bone and the ancient laws that govern territory. The thought of them taking her, stripping her down, processing her through their sterile breeding mills like livestock makes heat pulse behind my eyes. They'd waste everything that makes her valuable—her fire, her intelligence, her medical training, her defiance. Just another hole to fill and breed until she breaks completely.

"Additionally," Kain presses, his voice taking on the tone of someone playing a trump card, "we have reports of unauthorized human settlements in these mountains. The Enforcement Division has authority to search all structures for evidence of resistance activity."

A transparent excuse to violate my territory, to threaten what belongs to me, to find reasons to take her away. My tail lashes harder against the stone, scraping sparks that briefly illuminate the growing tension. I could end this confrontation now—six felines against one Chimeric Dominator in my own territory. The odds heavily favor me, and their blood would mark my boundaries better than any carved stones.

But strategy beats raw instinct. For now.

"I'll permit verification of my claim," I say, finding the narrow space between ripping his throat out and bowing to his Council authority. "You alone can witness the proof. Your patrol stays outside my territorial boundaries."

Let him see the evidence. Let him smell the changes in her body chemistry. Let him witness exactly how completely I've bonded her to me, how the blood connection ties her to this mountain as surely as if she'd been born here.

"Acceptable," he says after a moment's consideration, signaling his troops to hold their positions on the ledge.

I lead him through the entrance tunnel, positioning myself to maintain optimal striking distance if this goes wrong. His scent tells me he's alert but not panicked—professional assessment rather than fear driving his movements. Smart cat. Cautious cat. But not smart enough to leave what's already been marked as taken.