Page 22

SURVIVAL TRAINING

Amelia's POV

I move through the dense undergrowth like a predator myself now, placing each foot with deliberate care.

The soft earth cushions my steps as I navigate around dried leaves and brittle twigs that would betray my position.

Twenty yards ahead, a mountain hare sits frozen against the rocky terrain, its gray-brown coat nearly invisible in the dappled shadows.

My heart pounds as I slowly raise the small crossbow Vex provided. The weapon wasn't designed for human shoulders—the draw weight pushes my muscles to their limits. But weeks of training have changed my body in ways I never expected. My arms are leaner now, stronger. My reflexes sharper.

I brace, aim, and release in one fluid motion.

The bolt flies true, catching the hare just behind its front leg. A clean kill.

"Good," Vex's deep voice rumbles from somewhere behind me. I didn't hear him approach—I never do—but his silent arrivals no longer make me jump. "You're learning to move like a hunter instead of prey."

The praise sends unwanted warmth through my chest. "The wind was in my favor," I mutter, not looking at him as I approach my kill.

"The wind was irrelevant. Your stance was perfect." His massive presence looms closer as I kneel beside the hare. "You're finally starting to understand your own capability."

Heat creeps up my neck at the approval in his voice. I focus on retrieving the animal, my hands working with the methodical precision that once made me the head nurse of a human settlement. The small knife he gave me separates hide from muscle with practiced efficiency.

"The liver should be consumed first," I explain as I carefully remove the dark organ. "Highest concentration of nutrients. In survival situations, organ meat can mean the difference between thriving and merely surviving."

Vex settles onto his haunches beside me, close enough that his wild scent fills my nostrils. Close enough that I can feel the heat radiating from his scaled skin. "Medical training serves you well beyond human anatomy."

I shrug, continuing my work while trying to ignore how his proximity makes my pulse quicken.

"Physiology is physiology. Blood flows, organs function, life ends when essential systems fail.

" I pause, glancing up to find those yellow eyes fixed on me with predatory intensity.

"Whether you're treating injuries or preparing food. "

"And which am I?" he asks quietly, head tilting in that way that makes him look more predator than person. "Injury or sustenance?"

The question hangs between us, loaded with implications I'm not ready to examine. My hands still on the hare as heat floods my core. "I don't know what you mean."

His rumbling laugh vibrates through the ground where we're both kneeling. "Your body knows, even when your mind lies."

Before I can respond, he stands in one fluid motion, wings spreading slightly to catch the afternoon sun. "Finish your work. We have more ground to cover."

I return to field dressing the hare with hands that tremble slightly, all too aware of how he watches my every movement. The way his gaze follows the curve of my spine as I bend over my task. How his nostrils flare when the wind shifts, carrying my scent to him.

When I'm done, we continue climbing. The mountainside offers changing terrain that Vex uses as a living classroom. Pine and spruce forests give way to alpine meadows dotted with rocky outcrops. At each stop, he tests knowledge he's been systematically building in my head.

"This one," he says, indicating a silver-leafed plant growing in a protected crevice. But instead of stepping back to give me space, he moves behind me, his massive frame caging me against the rock face. "Tell me."

"Mountain Silverleaf," I manage, my voice breathier than it should be. "Anti-inflammatory properties. Good for infected wounds or fever."

"How would you prepare it?" His breath stirs the hair at my nape, making me shiver.

"Boiled into tea or ground into a poultice." I press back against the stone, trying to put distance between us, but there's nowhere to go. "Depending on the application."

"Good girl." The words are whispered against my ear, making my knees weak. "You learn quickly when you pay attention."

He pulls away before I can respond, leaving me breathless and confused against the rock wall. When I turn, he's already moving toward another plant cluster, acting as if nothing happened.

This is how our training sessions have evolved—practical lessons layered with tension that makes my skin feel too tight. Every instruction carries undertones of dominance that have nothing to do with wilderness survival. Every praise makes my body respond in ways that terrify me.

We climb higher, reaching a plateau that offers commanding views of the surrounding valleys.

Vex extends his massive wings, stretching them after keeping them folded during our ascent through narrow passages.

The motion is unconscious, like a human rolling tense shoulders, but the display makes my mouth go dry.

Fifteen feet of black feathers catching sunlight, powerful enough to carry both our weights through storm winds. The memory of being claimed in midair floods back—the impossible sensation of being filled while suspended in open sky, completely dependent on his strength.

"You're staring," he observes without turning around.

Heat flames my cheeks. "I was thinking about weather patterns. How you navigate in storms."

"Is that what you were thinking about?" He turns to face me fully, those predatory eyes seeming to read every thought I'm trying to hide. "Or were you remembering something else?"

I sink down on a flat boulder, needing the distance. "You're teaching me too much," I say, changing the subject. "Routes, plants, hunting, weather prediction. Why?"

Vex folds his wings against his back, though not completely—a position that keeps them partially displayed. "Survival knowledge benefits us both."

"How does it benefit you?" I press, needing to understand his motivations. "If you just wanted breeding stock, you'd keep me locked in your den."

Something shifts in his expression. "Is that what you think you are? Breeding stock?"

The question catches me off guard. "Isn't it? That's what the transport manifests said. What Captain Kain called me."

"Captain Kain sees everything in terms of Council classifications." Vex moves closer, his presence overwhelming even from several feet away. "I see an omega with medical skills, strategic thinking, and survival instincts that grow stronger every day."

"And what am I supposed to do with that assessment?"

"Survive," he says simply. "When circumstances change."

The phrasing sends ice through my veins. "What circumstances?"

He doesn't answer immediately, instead studying the valley below with tactical assessment. "Enforcement activity has increased at eastern checkpoints. Specialized equipment being assembled."

My stomach drops. "Gargoyle units?"

His wings twitch—the only sign of agitation he allows himself. "Among others. They're not coming for simple territorial dispute resolution."

"They're coming for me specifically."

"Yes." He turns back to me, and something in his expression makes my breath catch. "Which means you need to be prepared for independent movement if we're separated."

The word 'if' feels like a lie. We both know it's 'when.'

"I won't leave you to them," I say, the words surprising us both.

His head tilts, studying me like I'm a puzzle he can't solve. "Why?"

The simple question unravels me. Why would I care what happens to the alpha who claimed me by force? Who stole my freedom, my choices, my body? Who turned me into the very thing I'd spent eight years avoiding?

"Because..." I struggle for words that make sense. "Because you could have just kept me chained in your den. Could have used me and ignored everything else. But you didn't."

"That doesn't answer my question."

Heat builds in my chest, part frustration and part something else I don't want to name. "Because they'll cripple you. Remove your wings, maybe kill you. And for what? So I can be processed in some facility until I break?"

"You're avoiding the real answer." He moves closer, close enough that I have to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. "Why does my fate matter to you, omega?"

The endearment shouldn't make my core clench with need. It does.

"I don't know," I whisper, the admission torn from somewhere deep inside me.

"Your body knows." His massive hand cups my face, thumb tracing the claiming marks on my throat. "Even when your mind fights it."

The touch ignites every nerve ending in my neck, sending heat straight to my core. I should pull away. Should maintain some fragment of dignity. Instead, I find myself leaning into his palm like a cat seeking warmth.

"Tell me what you're thinking," he commands softly.

"That I hate how you make me feel." The words come out raw, honest. "That I should want to escape, should fight you every moment. But I don't."

"And what do you want instead?"

The question hangs between us, dangerous in its implications. My eyes drop to his mouth, wondering what it would feel like to kiss him without being claimed first. To choose the contact instead of having it forced on me.

"I want..." I start, then stop. The admission lodged in my throat.

"Say it." His thumb continues its maddening stroke across my pulse point. "Tell your alpha what you need."

"I want to stop fighting what I feel," I whisper. "I want to understand why my body craves yours even when my mind knows it's wrong."

His pupils dilate at my words, and I catch the sharp intake of breath that tells me I've affected him too. "There's nothing wrong with omega biology responding to a compatible alpha."

"Compatible?" I laugh, the sound hollow. "You claimed me by force."