Page 14

RIVAL CLAIMS

Vex's POV

Their stench hits me before I see them—Feline patrol, rank with sweat and territorial piss-marking.

Six of them picking their way along the eastern ridge where the boundary stones should have warned them off.

This isn't accidental trespass. This is deliberate challenge, a test of my territorial strength.

Rage builds beneath my scales like molten metal, heat spreading from my core outward until my skin feels like it's burning.

These cats think they can stroll into my domain after what I've done?

After I've claimed her, marked her, bonded her blood to mine?

My claws slide out involuntarily, scraping against stone before I force them back.

Control first. Violence if they push too far.

I emerge from the den with measured steps, each footfall deliberate and loud enough to announce my presence.

My wings stay neutral though every fiber screams to spread them wide, to show these intruders exactly what kind of predator they're challenging.

The narrow ledge barely accommodates their formation—five beta soldiers in standard enforcement gear, one alpha whose spotted pattern makes my lip curl with recognition.

Captain Kain. Feline Enforcement Division. Arrogant bastard who thinks paperwork trumps primal law.

Amelia's scent clings to my skin like a second layer, feeds the possessive fire burning in my chest with each breath I take.

She's still soft from the heat cycle, still carrying traces of my seed in her body, still wearing the territorial marks I carved into her throat during the blood bonding.

Every molecule of air reminds me of how she surrendered beneath me, how she took my knot so perfectly, how her blood tasted when it mixed with mine.

And now this spotted intruder thinks he can waltz in and claim what I've taken?

"Territorial violation," I state, keeping my voice level despite the urge to roar challenge across the peaks. "State your business or leave my mountain."

Kain steps forward with that liquid feline grace that's always struck me as weakness dressed up in fancy movements.

His amber eyes assess me like I'm some puzzle to solve, looking for cracks in my armor, for openings to exploit.

The predator in me recognizes another predator, but he won't find the vulnerabilities he's searching for. Not when it comes to her.

"Captain Kain, Feline Enforcement Division," he announces with the bureaucratic precision that reeks of Council boot-licking.

"We're tracking missing property from a crashed transport.

Our sensors indicate the omega asset is currently within your.

.." he pauses deliberately, letting the insult hang in the air, "cave system. "

The calculated insults cut deep, each word chosen to diminish and provoke.

Property. Asset. Cave system instead of den.

My cock stirs at the violent thoughts racing through my mind—dragging her out here, bending her over the stone ledge, and showing this cat exactly how thoroughly she belongs to me.

Let him hear her scream my name while I claim her.

Let him smell my seed dripping from her thighs afterward.

"The omega was claimed after your convoy lost control and got scattered by the storm," I growl back, letting some of my territorial anger bleed through. "Abandonment under Conquest Law, Section 12. She's part of my territory now."

Those spotted ears twitch dismissively, a gesture that makes my tail lash behind me. "Convenient interpretation. That omega was being transported under official Council documentation to authorized breeding facilities."

Council papers. Bureaucrats thinking their stamps and seals matter more than blood and bone and the ancient laws that govern territory.

The thought of them taking her, stripping her down, processing her through their sterile breeding mills like livestock makes heat pulse behind my eyes.

They'd waste everything that makes her valuable—her fire, her intelligence, her medical training, her defiance.

Just another hole to fill and breed until she breaks completely.

"Additionally," Kain presses, his voice taking on the tone of someone playing a trump card, "we have reports of unauthorized human settlements in these mountains. The Enforcement Division has authority to search all structures for evidence of resistance activity."

A transparent excuse to violate my territory, to threaten what belongs to me, to find reasons to take her away.

My tail lashes harder against the stone, scraping sparks that briefly illuminate the growing tension.

I could end this confrontation now—six felines against one Chimeric Dominator in my own territory.

The odds heavily favor me, and their blood would mark my boundaries better than any carved stones.

But strategy beats raw instinct. For now.

"I'll permit verification of my claim," I say, finding the narrow space between ripping his throat out and bowing to his Council authority. "You alone can witness the proof. Your patrol stays outside my territorial boundaries."

Let him see the evidence. Let him smell the changes in her body chemistry. Let him witness exactly how completely I've bonded her to me, how the blood connection ties her to this mountain as surely as if she'd been born here.

"Acceptable," he says after a moment's consideration, signaling his troops to hold their positions on the ledge.

I lead him through the entrance tunnel, positioning myself to maintain optimal striking distance if this goes wrong.

His scent tells me he's alert but not panicked—professional assessment rather than fear driving his movements.

Smart cat. Cautious cat. But not smart enough to leave what's already been marked as taken.

In the main chamber, Amelia stands near the far wall where I left her.

Her scent hits me like a physical blow—still sweet with the lingering satisfaction of post-heat claiming, rich with my essence soaked deep into her skin, marked with the distinctive chemistry of our blood bond.

Everything about her broadcasts ownership to any Prime with functioning senses, from the territorial patterns healing on her throat to the way her body unconsciously leans toward my presence.

My cock hardens as memories flood back—how she writhed beneath me during the bonding ritual, how her body accepted my claiming even when her mind fought every step, how perfectly she milked my knot while I carved my territorial marks into her flesh.

The taste of her blood mixing with mine.

The way she screamed when the bond took hold and rewrote her basic biology.

I can see her tension from here, the way she holds herself ready to move, to react.

She's calculating odds and options just like I taught her during our conversations about territorial politics.

The intelligence that first caught my attention still burns bright, even filtered through the blood bond's influence.

"The medical omega," Kain confirms, his nostrils flaring as he scents the dramatic changes in her biology since the transport.

His eyes fix on the blood bond marks pulsing visibly at her throat—raised silver scars that follow the pattern of my mountain range.

"Valuable breeding stock with emergency medical training. "

The casual reduction of her to mere functionality triggers protective rage that nearly shatters my carefully maintained control. She's not just breeding stock to be processed and used. She's territory. She's possession. She's the fire that burns in my den and answers to no authority but mine.

"My bonded mate," I correct, using the highest designation available under Conquest Law. The word feels right in my mouth in ways I hadn't expected when I first claimed her. She's earned the title through her strength, her resistance, her eventual surrender to what we both knew was inevitable.

Tension thickens like smoke as competing alpha pheromones fill the space between us.

My scent grows stronger, more dominant, marking every molecule of air as belonging to me and mine.

Kain circles Amelia slowly, maintaining careful distance while conducting his visual assessment.

His gaze lingers on the territorial marks healing at her throat—the mountain pattern that declares her an extension of my domain rather than just claimed property.

The sight of another alpha studying what belongs to me sends fresh heat pulsing through my blood. I want to grab her, press her against me, force her body to demonstrate exactly how thoroughly the blood bond has claimed her autonomic responses.

Amelia's eyes flick between us, reading the territorial tension building in the air.

Her hand rises unconsciously to touch the blood bond marks, a gesture I've noticed her making repeatedly since the claiming.

The scars pulse faster under her fingers, responding to both my presence and her emotional state.

"Blood bonding," Kain notes, his whiskers twitching with what might be surprise or calculation. "An extreme measure for a simple territorial dispute."

"No dispute exists," I respond, moving between them with deliberate dominance that makes the feline's muscles tense.

The need to place myself between a rival and my possession drives me like a physical compulsion.

"The bonding is complete and permanent. She carries my blood, my marks, my territorial claim written in her very flesh. "

I want to touch her, to trigger the responses I've bred into her system, to show this intruder how her body automatically yields to my proximity. The urge to demonstrate ownership through immediate claiming burns like molten metal in my veins.

Kain's amber eyes fix on Amelia with predatory focus, searching for weakness he can exploit. "The omega appears remarkably... composed for one so thoroughly claimed. Most blood-bonded omegas show more obvious signs of... dependency."

The probe aims directly at the foundation of my authority, suggesting the bonding might be incomplete or somehow flawed.

Amelia remains silent, offering neither confirmation nor denial—smart enough to avoid giving ammunition to either alpha in this territorial dispute.

But I can see the rapid calculations behind her eyes, the strategic mind that's kept her alive through eight years of hiding.

Tension builds with each heartbeat, territorial imperatives clashing with political necessity.

I need to end this confrontation before raw instinct overrides strategic thinking, before I simply eliminate this threat and deal with the Council consequences later.

Physical demonstration would crush any remaining doubt about the bond's legitimacy.

"Maybe a demonstration would settle any questions about the claim's validity," I suggest, moving behind Amelia with predatory intent.

My hands grip her shoulders possessively, feeling the heat of her skin through the thin fabric she wears.

The blood bond marks pulse visibly as my proximity triggers autonomic responses she can't control.

My cock throbs against the confines of my sheath, demanding immediate claiming, immediate display of dominance before this rival.

I feel her slight tension, sense the rapid calculations racing behind those sharp eyes as she weighs her options.

Then she makes her choice, leaning back against my chest—not complete submission but enough compliance to signal acceptance of my claim over his.

The pressure of her body against mine sends electricity racing through my nervous system.

Her scent shifts subtly as the blood bond responds to our contact, broadcasting our connection more clearly than any words could. The change is immediate and unmistakable to any Prime with functioning senses.

"The claiming appears..." Kain pauses, processing what his nose is telling him, "physically valid. However, Council documentation regarding specialized omegas carries specific legal weight that supersedes territorial claims."

The emphasis on "physically" signals his recognition that her compliance is tactical rather than willing submission born of genuine bonding. He sees the calculation behind her actions, understands that she's choosing the lesser of two evils. This makes him more dangerous, not less.

"Verification of complete bonding may be required," he continues, meeting my gaze with cold professional assessment. "To ensure no coercion or temporary claiming has occurred. The Council takes a dim view of fraudulent bond claims."

The suggestion of public demonstration sends contradictory impulses racing through me—territorial fury at the invasion of privacy countered by alpha satisfaction at the opportunity to display ownership before a rival.

My arousal thickens painfully, demanding I bend her over right here and show this cat exactly who she belongs to.

My scent grows heavier, mixing territorial markers with raw sexual intent to create a chemical declaration that even Council enforcers can't misinterpret. The blood bond marks at Amelia's throat pulse faster, visible proof of the connection that's already been established between us.

"Proceed with your verification," I say, maintaining physical contact while addressing the challenge directly. One hand slides from her shoulder down her spine, feeling her shiver in involuntary response to my touch. "The blood bond speaks louder than any papers the Council might produce."

Kain settles back on his heels, preparing to observe whatever demonstration will establish the hierarchy here. "Show me the legitimacy of your claim, Chimeric. Prove the bond is real and complete."

My grip tightens possessively, thumbs brushing across the territorial marks that identify her as an extension of my domain.

The blood bond creates a connection no enforcement officer can deny—not when witnessed with proper evidence, not when demonstrated with biological responses that can't be faked.

This mountain range belongs to me. The omega standing before this rival belongs to me. And I protect what I've claimed with everything I possess. I keep what I've taken through strength and cunning. I demonstrate ownership in the oldest language that alphas understand.

Let this spotted bureaucrat watch and learn exactly what blood bonding means.