Page 48

As the storm rages outside, turning the cave entrance into a curtain of water, the scouts establish a perimeter and settle into their assigned positions. I chew the tough meat slowly, trying to ignore the low-level awareness humming beneath my skin—theway my body automatically catalogs each feline's distinct scent, identifying potential threats or allies in some primal part of my brain.

My claiming mark pulses with renewed sensitivity, the scar tissue seemingly alive with awareness of Fritz's absence. The sensation isn't painful, just... present. A constant reminder of the bite that changed everything.

Hours pass, the storm showing no signs of letting up. The close quarters grow increasingly uncomfortable as body heat and moisture create a humid atmosphere within the stone walls. I shift restlessly, trying to find a comfortable position on the hard ground.

Thorne approaches silently, his movements cat-like even in his more human form. He settles nearby—close enough for conversation but keeping a careful distance that suggests intentional consideration.

"You should rest," he says quietly. "We move at first light regardless of weather."

"I know." I draw my knees up to my chest, making myself smaller in the enclosed space. "I'm fine."

His yellow eyes study me with unsettling directness. "Your scent says otherwise."

The observation makes me stiffen. "Excuse me?"

"You're uncomfortable with our proximity." His tone holds no judgment, just stating a fact. "It's natural. Claimed omegas develop sensitivity to alpha pheromones besides their mate's."

"I'm not uncomfortable," I lie automatically. "Just not loving the accommodations."

Thorne's mouth quirks in what might be amusement. "Your body knows the difference between your alpha and potential competitors. It's biology, not weakness."

The frankness of his assessment disarms my defensiveness. "Does it... does the claiming mark really signal that much to other felines?"

He considers the question with unexpected seriousness. "Commander's claim runs deep," he explains, his voice lowering to keep our conversation private from the other scouts. "Stronger than most markings I've scented. Every feline in this cave could smell his claim from twenty paces. None would challenge it."

Something in his wording catches my attention. "What do you mean, 'stronger than most'? How can one claiming be stronger than another?"

Thorne's expression shifts slightly, showing momentary uncertainty about how much to tell me. "Claiming strength varies with intent and... connection. Just biological claiming carries one scent signature. Claiming with deeper instinctive recognition creates another."

"And Fritz's claiming of me..."

"Is unmistakable." Thorne's gaze drops briefly to the scar at my throat before meeting my eyes again. "Commander has marked you more thoroughly than I've witnessed in seventeen years of service. It's why the fortress accepted you so quickly in command positions. His claim carries... weight."

The revelation sends a strange warmth spreading through my chest despite the damp chill of the cave. I'd assumed Fritz's claiming was just practical—a necessary biological transaction to prevent dragon intervention. The possibility that something deeper, more instinctive might have driven it even from the beginning creates questions I'm not ready to face right now.

"I should check the cave entrance," I murmur, standing abruptly. "See if the storm's passing."

Thorne doesn't try to stop me, though his knowing expression suggests he recognizes my retreat for what it is.

The narrow passage leading to the cave mouth gives me blessed solitude after the crowded main chamber. Rain still pours heavily outside, the occasional lightning flash lighting up the valley in harsh white light before plunging it back into darkness. The steady rhythm of water dripping from stone creates a hypnotic backdrop to my racing thoughts.

I run my fingers absently over the claiming mark, tracing the permanent impression of Fritz's teeth against my skin.Stronger than most markings.What does that mean for us? For the strange partnership that's grown between claimed omega and reluctant commander?

A flash of lightning reveals something that snaps me instantly from my thoughts to high alert—a distinctive pattern of scratches on the stone just inside the cave entrance. Three parallel lines, too deliberate to be natural. I crouch for a closer look, my fingers tracing the shallow grooves.

"Thorne," I call softly, my voice carrying just far enough to reach the main chamber. "Come look at this."

He appears beside me almost immediately, moving with that unnerving feline silence. "What is it?"

"Dragon markers." I point to the scratches. "Recent ones."

His pupils contract to vertical slits as he examines the marks. "Territory claim. Routine scouting signature."

"Yes, but look at the depth." I run my finger along the grooves. "These weren't made by casual passage. They spent time here. Recently."

Thorne breathes in deeply, his nose detecting scents my human senses could never pick up. His expression darkens. "You're right. They used this shelter within the past day. Possibly as recently as this morning."

The realization of how narrowly we missed a direct confrontation sends ice through my veins. "If the storm hadn't driven us here earlier than planned..."