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His voice drifts up from behind me, deep and familiar. I don't turn, knowing he's already moving toward me with that silent grace that makes even his heaviest steps whisper against stone. His scent reaches me—pine and leather and that distinctive musk that's uniquely his—before his warmth does.

"Hiding from your fanclub again?" I tease, leaning back against his larger form as his arms encircle me. His chin rests atop my head, his body curving protectively around mine and our children.

"Those territorial reps are worse than dragon scouts," he grumbles, though I hear the smile in his voice. "Confederation leadership is freaking out about our settlement model."

"You mean they're shocked humans can be productive without living in constant terror."

His laugh rumbles through his chest against my back. "Something like that."

His hand moves to cover mine where it rests against my belly, his touch gentle despite the lethal claws I know he could extend in an instant if danger threatened his family. The claiming mark at my throat pulses with comforting warmth, the bond between us strengthening with each passing day.

"How's our newest troublemaker?" he asks, voice dropping to that register that still makes my knees weak.

"Growing. Strong." I turn in his arms, adjusting Selene to let her continue nursing while I face her father. "Like her siblings."

Fritz's eyes—golden with those vertical pupils I once found so alien—soften as he looks at our daughter. One clawed finger gently brushes her downy head, touch so delicate it wouldn't disturb a butterfly's wings. The contrast between his capacity for violence and his tenderness with our cubs creates an ache in my chest that has nothing to do with nursing.

"Blackridge will be fully self-sufficient by winter," he tells me, eyes meeting mine. "The expansion has made it the most productive human settlement in the eastern territories."

Pride fills me—not just for what we've built, but for how we've built it. Not through conquest or domination, but through partnership and protection. The model we've created here—feline and human cooperation rather than subjugation—has begun spreading to other border territories.

"You've changed everything," I tell him, meaning it with every fiber of my being.

"We did it together," he corrects, tail curling around my ankle in that possessive gesture I've come to treasure. "Equal credit, remember?"

The word "together" echoes in my mind as I remember how far we've come from that first reluctant claiming—from captive and captor to partners and mates. The journey seems impossible when viewed in its entirety, yet each step followed logically from the one before.

Selene finishes nursing, her tiny mouth releasing my nipple with a contented sigh. I adjust my clothing as Fritz takes her, his massive hands cradling her with practiced ease that still makes my heart flutter. The sight of him—fearsome commander,ruthless warrior—holding our tiny daughter with such reverence never fails to move me.

"That council meeting can wait," he decides, eyes darkening as they move from our daughter to me. "I've got more important things to do first."

The hunger in his gaze sends heat pooling between my thighs, my body responding to him with embarrassing predictability. Even after a year, after two cubs and a third on the way, he affects me like this—with just a look, just a shift in his scent.

"Your commander duties can't wait," I protest, though the words lack conviction even to my own ears.

"My mate needs attention," he counters, voice dropping to a rumbling growl that makes my knees weak. "Everything else can wait."

He leads me down from the observation platform, through corridors that have become as familiar as my own heartbeat. The fortress that once represented captivity now feels like home, its stone walls offering protection rather than confinement.

In our quarters—expanded now to accommodate our growing family—he places Selene in her cradle beside Kieran's larger bed. Our son doesn't stir, secure in sleep as only children who know they're protected can be.

The moment the door to our private chamber closes behind us, Fritz's demeanor shifts. The careful restraint he maintains in public falls away, revealing the predator beneath—the alpha whose hunger for his omega hasn't diminished despite multiple claims.

"Been thinking about you all day," he growls, backing me against the wall with delicious inevitability. "About how wet you get for me, even when you're already carrying my cub."

The crude words still shock me sometimes—this cultured, controlled commander speaking with such raw possession. Andgods help me, I love it. Love the way he claims me with words as thoroughly as with his body.

"Prove it," I challenge, boldness I never possessed before him rising to the surface. "Show me how much you've been thinking about me."

His growl vibrates through the air between us, pupils contracting to vertical slits as he catches my scent—the arousal I can no longer hide from his enhanced senses. But instead of pinning me to the wall as I expect, he sinks to his knees before me.

"First," he rumbles, hands sliding up my legs beneath my dress, "I'm going to taste you until you can't remember your own name."

My breath catches as his claws carefully hook into my undergarments, shredding them with controlled power that sends heat flooding through me. The contrast—those deadly weapons so gentle against my vulnerable flesh—never fails to arouse me beyond reason.

When his rough tongue makes first contact with my already-slick folds, my head falls back against the wall with a thud. The texture—slightly raspy in a way no human could achieve—creates sensations that send lightning up my spine.

"So sweet," he murmurs against my most intimate flesh, the vibration of his voice adding a new dimension to the pleasure. "My mate. My omega. The mother of my cubs."