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Two days of losing control as heat takes over my mind. Two days to get ready for a claiming that'll make this bond even stronger—a bond I'm still trying to accept. Two days to make sense of this commander who captured me but now looks at me like I'm more than just a problem to solve.

"I need to think," I tell him, stepping back from his overwhelming presence.

He nods, respecting my space even though his alpha instincts must be screaming at him to take charge. "My room or yours," he says simply. "Your choice. Though the medical staff says familiar surroundings help."

The practical reminder brings me back to reality. Whatever emotional mess I'm dealing with, my body's needs can't be ignored. "I'll tell you tomorrow," I say, needing room to breathe, to think.

As I turn to go, Fritz speaks again, his voice rough like he's fighting something inside himself. "Aria." He waits until I look back. "Whatever you decide, I'll keep you safe. That's not negotiable."

His words shouldn't comfort me—this is possession, not caring. Alpha instinct, not connection. Yet something in his eyes, in the way his massive shoulders are set, in the careful distance he keeps despite what his biology must be demanding, suggests there's more going on than just dominance.

My mind flashes back to yesterday's battle—Fritz launching himself against dragon forces not to protect military stuff but to defend human settlements with no strategic value. His words echo in my memory: "Conquest without protection is just destruction. I won't become what I despise."

For the first time since my claiming, I wonder what Fritz truly wants beyond tactical advantage and territory. What desires the alpha beneath the commander's mask might have if given choice instead of duty. Whether what started as biological necessity might become something neither of us saw coming.

The claiming bond pulses between us, carrying questions without answers, possibilities without guarantees, choice that matters precisely because it changes nothing about the physical realities awaiting us both.

I leave him at the gate, returning to quarters that feel simultaneously like sanctuary and prison as heat builds beneath my skin with inexorable patience. Whatever I decide tomorrow, biological imperatives will soon overtake rational thought—not with the desperate madness of first unclaimed heat, but with focused need for the specific alpha whose claiming bite has marked me as his.

The realization that I'm beginning to think of Fritz asmyalpha rather thanthealpha who claimed me creates the most disturbing symptom yet—not physical preparation but emotional shift I never anticipated when fighting so hard against a claiming I now find myself reluctantly anticipating.

As I curl into bed, my hand drifts to the claiming mark at my throat, fingers tracing the pattern of teeth marks that once represented captivity. Now they feel like something else—a connection I don't understand but can no longer pretend to hate.

CHAPTER 13

CHOSEN SURRENDER

Fritz POV

Her scent slamsinto me before I even reach the eastern corridor—sweet, heady, and unmistakable. Aria's heat is coming on strong, way more intense than this morning. My body reacts instantly, a deep growl rumbling in my chest that I don't bother holding back. There's nobody else around to hear it anyway.

Something feels different. Her choosing to stay—to face this claiming rather than run—has changed things between us. I can't stop thinking about finding her at the fortress gate last night, weighing her options. I watched her eyes calculate, measuring those dragon fantasies against the feline reality in front of her.

"You could run," I told her, looking right into her eyes. "I won't stop you."

I meant it completely. I wouldn't have chased her. What's the point of a mate who doesn't want to be there? I've lived decades without that kind of connection anyway. But she stayed.

Now I stand outside her door, my tail swishing behind me in slow, deliberate movements that would instantly give away my anticipation to any feline passing by. This claiming needs tobe different. It has to be. The first was just cold necessity. The second was slightly better but still driven by raw instinct rather than anything deeper.

This time, I've got my own choice to make.

I walk in without knocking. She's mine by claiming right, and her scent is already driving me half-mad with need. Her room is warmer than the rest of the fortress, heated for human comfort instead of feline preference. She sits on the edge of the bed wearing only a thin shift, her skin already flushed pink with early heat.

She looks up at me without fear, for the first time since I claimed her. The disgust that used to shadow her face whenever she saw me is completely gone, replaced by something more complicated—uncertainty mixed with a reluctant hunger.

"It's starting again," she says, her voice steady despite her trembling hands.

"Yes." I move toward her slowly, careful not to trigger the prey response her human instincts still harbor. "This time will be different," I promise, "if you'll let it be."

Her pulse jumps—I can see it fluttering at her throat, right next to my claiming mark. The scar has completely healed now, a permanent silvery brand declaring her as mine to anyone who might see it.

"Different how?" Wariness in her question, but curiosity too.

Instead of trying to explain, I drop into a crouch before her, bringing my face level with hers—a position no feline would ever take with their claimed mate. It leaves me vulnerable in a way I've never allowed myself to be with her, deliberately surrendering the dominant posture my instincts scream for.

"Felines don't just breed when we claim," I explain, my voice rougher than I intended as her scent grows stronger. "There are... ways of connecting we rarely share with human mates."

Her eyebrow quirks up. "Ways of connecting?"