Page 13

BLOOD BOND

Amelia's POV

My heat broke two days ago, consciousness returning like a diver breaking the surface after too long underwater. The fever fog lifts slowly, leaving behind scattered pieces of memory—claiming, surrender, pleasure I never wanted to feel. Now I can think clearly enough to see what's been done to me.

The changes run deeper than I expected.

The blood bond marks across my neck and collarbone have healed with impossible speed, transforming from raw wounds to raised silver scars that throb with their own heartbeat.

They burn when Vex comes near, like my skin remembers his touch whether I want it to or not.

Worse, my whole body has rewired itself around him—pulse racing when he enters a room, skin flushing when his scent grows stronger, responses I can't control no matter how hard I try.

The irony makes me want to laugh or scream. All those years treating omega patients, documenting how their bodies responded to their alphas, never understanding the helpless horror of feeling your own flesh betray you.

I've found a quiet spot near one of the mineral pools where spring water bubbles up from deep underground.

The surface works as a warped mirror, but clear enough to show what I've become.

My reflection reveals the marks carved into my skin—that mountain range pattern matching Vex's maps, permanent proof of ownership written in silvered scars.

"Barbaric," I whisper, though the nurse in me understands why it works. Claiming marks tell other Primes to back off, offer protection through fear of a powerful alpha, create chemical bonds that make breeding more likely.

Understanding the science doesn't make the violation hurt less. I was taken, claimed, marked, and changed without any say in the matter. That my body welcomed it all with eager hunger only makes it worse.

I've spent two days memorizing every inch of this cave system, learning passages and chambers like I once learned hospital layouts. Knowledge keeps you alive, and knowing this territory might be my only advantage.

The cave goes deeper into the mountain than I first thought. Storage rooms hold preserved food organized by season—proof of long-term planning. Defensive spots offer cover from multiple directions. Water flows throughout, which means this place was chosen for survival as much as security.

What disturbs me most is what looks like a study—shelves carved into rock holding books wrapped in oiled cloth, mechanical devices kept in perfect condition, maps drawn on treated leather with incredible detail.

This isn't some animal's lair but the workshop of a predator who studies his world like a scientist.

That discovery makes my captivity worse somehow. Animals follow patterns you can predict. Intelligence means surprises I can't plan for.

The books make my stomach clench. Medical texts I recognize from human settlements. Studies of different Prime species with careful notes in the margins. Survival guides. These aren't trophies but reference materials, studied and used.

I flip through one with shaking hands, seeing passages marked in precise handwriting. Vex's writing—analyzing how well human omegas breed with different Prime types. Clinical notes about heat cycles, claiming methods, pregnancy rates.

My hands tremble as I close the book. He's been studying this. Studying us. Learning how to claim and breed human omegas with scientific precision.

The realization hits like ice water. This wasn't random capture or lucky opportunity. This was calculated hunting by someone who knows omega biology better than most human doctors.

A sound outside breaks through my dark thoughts—wings approaching the cave. But not Vex's rhythm. His wings beat in a pattern I've memorized: four powerful strokes, then a glide to save energy. This sound is different. Lighter. Faster. More than one flyer.

Multiple somethings heading this way.

Before I can move, Vex lands at the entrance with obvious urgency. His wings snap tight against his body as he strides inside, scales already darkened to that midnight purple that means danger. Those yellow eyes find me immediately, pupils narrowed to slits.

"Felines," he says without preamble, moving past me toward weapon caches I hadn't found despite searching everywhere. "Eastern approach. Six of them."

My heart hammers against my ribs, adrenaline flooding through me. "From the transport?"

He nods grimly, opening a hidden panel that reveals weapons designed for his clawed hands—curved blades, projectile weapons I don't recognize, gear meant for territorial war.

"Following your scent from the crash," he explains, selecting weapons with practiced ease. "Including an alpha captain."

Captain Kain. Has to be. The leopard shifter whose amber eyes looked at me like meat for sale, whose spotted ears flattened when I tried to run, whose musky scent still makes me want to vomit. The one who talked so casually about the experiments waiting for me at the breeding facilities.

This could be my chance. If Felines attack Vex, maybe I can slip away in the chaos. I know his maps—the hidden valleys, water sources, routes toward human settlements. With enough head start, I might reach help before being dragged back.

But my hand rises to touch the blood bond marks without thinking. I've caught myself doing this dozens of times, fingers tracing the raised scars like some kind of nervous tic. These marks aren't just ownership—they're a real problem any escape has to solve.

The blood bond would mark me to any Prime who got close enough to smell me.

My changed scent broadcasts my status clear as day: property of Chimeric Dominator, walking territory marker, claimed breeding stock.

Under their laws, I'd be returned to Vex immediately—or worse, taken to breeding facilities if they couldn't agree who owns me.

Logic says immediate escape is too risky. But chances don't always come when convenient. Sometimes you take what's offered instead of waiting for perfect conditions that might never arrive.

"How long before they get here?" I ask, gathering medical supplies with steady hands. Whatever happens, I need to be ready for anything—treating wounds, using distractions, fighting off new threats.

"Hour, maybe less," Vex answers, strapping weapons to a harness made for his body. "Feline ground troops in unfamiliar territory. They'll follow scent trails instead of taking efficient paths."

He's sharing tactical information like we're partners instead of captor and captive. The casual inclusion messes with my head in ways I can't afford right now.

"What's your plan?" I press, mentally reviewing escape routes from his charts.

"Show of force," he says, wings shifting as he prepares for flight. "Felines respect strength. If they think challenging my claim would cost too much, they'll retreat to report instead of fighting."

"Claim" means more than just the territory. His claim on me. The approaching Felines threaten both.

"And if they don't back down?" I ask, thinking about defensive positions I've noted.

Those inhuman eyes study me with predatory focus. "Then I remind them why Chimeric territory stays unconquered despite Council mapping efforts."

The casual promise of violence should scare me. Instead, it's just more information to file away. Captivity has changed how I think about things in ways I don't want to examine.

"Stay in the inner chambers," he instructs, moving toward the entrance. "If warnings don't work, any fighting will happen well away from the den."

I notice what he doesn't say—don't try to escape, don't contact the Felines, don't give away defensive positions. Maybe he trusts me now, or more likely, he believes the blood bond has made me compliant enough that orders aren't needed.

He's not completely wrong. The bond causes physical problems when I get too far from his concentrated scent—faster heartbeat, nausea, dizziness that makes walking difficult. Not impossible to overcome, but hard enough to complicate any escape attempt.

"Take this," he says, pulling something from around his neck—a carved stone pendant on leather, warm from his skin. "Territory marker. In case patrols get closer than expected."

I take it automatically, though accepting feels like another small defeat. "What does it do?"

"Concentrated scent markers. Shows other Primes you're under territorial protection." Something flickers across his face. "Felines who challenge blood bond claims face Council punishment. The pendant makes sure they know what kind of claim you carry."

Protection or possession—no real difference in Prime society. I slip the cord over my head, adding it to jewelry I never chose. Tools can have multiple uses, including tags for valuable property.

Vex moves to the entrance, wings spreading for flight. Sunlight through the opening catches purple highlights in his scales, making him look like some mythical predator instead of evolved alien.

"I'll be back before dark," he says. "Either with news of their retreat, or..." He doesn't finish, but the implications are clear.

When he launches from the ledge, powerful wingbeats carrying him up and away, I'm left standing between opportunity and disaster. The Feline arrival creates chances for escape—but also new dangers that could lead to worse captivity if I guess wrong.

I move through the den systematically, gathering things that might help regardless of what happens. Medical supplies for treating wounds. Small tools that could work as weapons. Information from maps and books that might help with navigation.

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 time I 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."