Page 16

I close my eyes, feeling hot tears slide down my cheeks as the reality of my situation crystallizes with brutal clarity. This claiming, primitive and overwhelming, is nothing like the dreams I harbored for years. The feline alpha locked inside me, pumping his seed into my womb with seemingly endless supply, is nothing like the majestic dragon I imagined would be my destiny.

Yet my traitorous body hums with bone-deep satisfaction, omega biology perfectly content with what my mind still rejects. The disconnect between physical response and emotional resistance creates cognitive dissonance I have no framework to process.

A new shame creeps in as I realize what this means for my dragon dreams. What dragon would want me now? The thought hits with unexpected force. I'm tainted with feline seed, my body adapting to feline barbs and knot. If I somehow escaped, would a dragon alpha even consider me after being claimed by a feline? Or would they smell his seed on me, in me, and turn away in disgust? The prospect of that rejection stings in ways I hadn't anticipated, adding another layer to my confusion.

When Fritz's knot finally begins to subside, allowing him to withdraw from my body, the sensation creates another cascade of unwilling pleasure that leaves me trembling. Seed and slick leak from my well-used entrance, physical evidence of claiming I can neither deny nor embrace. The emptiness returns immediately, though muted now, the edge of desperate need dulled by thorough claiming.

Fritz moves away, retrieving his clothing with economical movements that emphasize his return to controlled commander rather than rutting alpha. He dresses quickly, each piece of uniform reassembling the cold, distant leader I firstencountered, though the darkened fur patterns and lingering scent of rut betray the intensity of what just occurred.

"The medical staff will bring food and water," he informs me, already moving toward the door. "Rest while the heat symptoms allow. I'll return when they intensify again."

Then he's gone, leaving me alone with the lingering scent of our joining and the echoing emptiness his departure creates. Not emotional emptiness—I want nothing of connection with the predator who just claimed me—but the physical absence where he filled me so completely moments before.

I curl onto my side, pulling a relatively intact section of bedding over my naked form in pitiful attempt at dignity. My body feels different—stretched, used, marked in ways I can't see but can definitely feel. The ghost-sensation of his knot still pulses inside me, my inner walls remembering the shape and size of him with disturbing accuracy.

Exhaustion pulls at me as the heat temporarily recedes, leaving a strange clarity in its wake. I should use this period of lucidity to plan, to think, to find some way to regain control of my situation. Instead, I find myself cataloging the sensations of claiming—the pleasant ache between my thighs, the places where his barbs touched spots I never knew existed, the lingering fullness from being stretched around a knot designed by evolution to ensure breeding success.

My body's satisfied response to feline claiming creates uncomfortable questions my mind isn't ready to confront. If my omega biology adapted so readily to what I've spent years dismissing as inferior, what else might I be wrong about?

I push the thought away, too exhausted for such philosophical quandaries. For now, the relief from heat-madness is enough. I'll face the next wave when it comes, and the next claiming after that. And perhaps, in the brief windowsof lucidity between, I'll begin formulating what comes after this heat finally passes.

Because one thing remains clear despite the biological haze of the past three days: I will not remain at Shadowthorn Outpost one moment longer than necessary. Commander Clawe may have claimed my body, but he will never possess my future.

Even as the thought forms, my neck throbs where his claiming bite should be but isn't—the one element of traditional claiming he didn't perform. The significance of its absence follows me into exhausted sleep, a final puzzle I'm too tired to solve.

CHAPTER 6

CLAIMING

Fritz POV

Her scent reachesme before I even open the chamber door—omega in full heat, the sweet-spice signature that belongs only to her. Twelve hours since our first claiming, and already I find myself anticipating the moment with inappropriate eagerness. The initial tactical necessity has evolved into something more complex, something I refuse to examine too closely.

I pause outside the heat chamber, taking a moment to compose myself. The scout reports confirm dragon forces continue testing our borders, their patrols pushing deeper into disputed territory with each passing day. My claiming of the settlement omega has deterred direct incursion, my scent markers overlaying her heat signature creating territorial declaration they've so far respected. The tactical purpose remains valid.

But that doesn't explain why I spent an hour in the training yard working my body to exhaustion, trying to burn away the memory of her tight heat around my knot. Doesn't justify why I stood under scalding water in my private bathing chamber, fist wrapped around my length, barbs partially extended as Irecalled the sounds she made when I drove into her. The way her body yielded while her mind continued its rebellion.

I should be satisfied with mission accomplished, omega secured, territory defended. Instead, I find myself craving another taste of that defiance turning to surrender, that moment when her body betrays her pride and responds to what her mind still rejects.

The door slides open at my command code, revealing the continuation of our private war.

Aria sits upright on the replacement pallet, arms wrapped around her knees in defensive posture despite the visible tremors running through her. The thin shift clings to sweat-dampened skin, her flushed face framed by auburn hair that's escaped its usual practical braid. Her scent has intensified since morning, the heat cycle building toward another peak.

The moment she sees me, her expression hardens into resentment so pure it nearly masks the desperate need beneath. Nearly, but not quite. I can smell the slick already soaking through the shift, can see the way her thighs press together seeking relief from emptiness her body can no longer tolerate.

"Still here, I see," she says, voice impressively steady for someone clearly fighting heat symptoms. "I thought perhaps you'd decided to process me for facility transfer early."

"And deprive the dragons of their opportunity to rescue you?" I counter, allowing the door to close behind me. "That would be tactically unsound."

Her eyes narrow at the mention of dragons, but another wave of heat visibly crashes through her before she can respond. Her fingers clutch at the pallet, knuckles whitening as she fights for control.

"I don't need this," she finally manages, the words strained through clenched teeth. "Not from you. I can handle it myself."

"Can you?" I ask, moving closer with deliberate predatory grace. My tail sways behind me, measuring my thoughts as I observe her more carefully. "Is that what you've been doing while I've been away? Handling it yourself?"

The flush on her cheeks deepens, confirmation enough. I inhale deeply, sorting through the complex layers of her scent—heat and need predominant, yes, but beneath that the unmistakable traces of self-pleasure. Attempt at self-relief that clearly failed to satisfy omega biology designed to accept nothing less than alpha completion.

"I wonder," I continue, my voice dropping to the deeper register that makes her pupils dilate despite herself, "when you touch yourself in desperate attempt at relief, is it dragon cocks you imagine? Their dual shafts you fantasize filling you instead of feline barbs?"