Page 18 of Hunted By Khor (Alien Mate Hunt #1)

T hey spent the night circling our den like scavengers. I could hear them out there, testing boundaries, seeing how close they could get before Khor would react. He didn't react. Just lay beside me, tail wrapped around my waist, letting them exhaust themselves with posturing.

The sun finally rises, painting the volcanic rock in shades of orange and red. Khor stretches, his spines extending fully before settling back against his scales. “They're children.” His claws scrape against stone as he stands. “Let them play their games.”

But I can smell his aggression building. The way his scales have darkened from crimson to something closer to dried blood. The way his spines stay partially extended even in sleep. He's controlling himself, but barely.

We emerge from the den to find the damage.

They've marked everything. Every rock, every tree, every flat surface within a hundred feet of our den carries their scent.

Vek's citrus-and-ozone smell dominates, but three others mix with it.

They pissed on our territory markers. Scraped their claws over Khor's warning signs. Made sure we'd wake to the insult.

Khor crouches beside one mark, running his claws through the scored stone. The grinding sound makes my teeth ache. “Juvenile.” He stands, brushes dust from his hands with sharp, dismissive movements. “Like pups thinking they're warriors.”

I step over a puddle of their marking fluid, nose wrinkling at the acrid smell. “Will you remark everything?”

His tail lashes once, sending small stones scattering. “Yes.” He turns to me, pupils dilating slightly. “And you'll help.”

The way he says it makes my body respond immediately. That constant readiness the tonic ensures, but focused now on something specific. I know what remarking means. What he'll need to do to make the scents strong enough to cover theirs.

He starts at the den entrance. Marks it with his own scent first, the pheromones so thick I can taste them. Then he turns to me.

“Here. Against the stone.”

Not a request. I position myself against the den entrance, hands braced on stone still cool from night. He enters me from behind without preparation. Doesn't need any. I'm always wet for him now, body trained to respond to his proximity alone.

The breeding is violent. Purposeful. Each thrust drives me harder against the stone, leaving my scent mixed with his. When he comes, he pulls out immediately, letting his seed splash visibly on the ground. Marking. Claiming. Making sure anyone who approaches will know exactly what happened here.

“Next marker.”

We work our way around the territory. Every place they marked, we mark stronger. By the third location, my legs shake. By the fifth, I can barely stand. But he doesn't stop. Can't stop. This is necessary. This is survival.

The young hunters watch from the ridges. I can see them sometimes, shadows against the morning sun. They're learning that their provocation has consequences. That Khor won't simply accept their challenge to his territory.

By midday, we've covered half the territory. My body is bruised from being pressed against various surfaces. My cunt is so sensitive that even walking hurts. But Khor isn't finished.

“The main marker. The one at the territory border.”

It's a natural pillar of volcanic stone, twisted into a spiral by ancient heat. The most important marker, visible from miles away. They've covered it completely with their scents, even climbed to the top to mark high.

Khor lifts me. Not gently. Presses my back against the pillar and enters me while holding my full weight. My legs wrap around him by instinct, ankles locking behind his back.

“Scream for me.”

Not a request. An order. I scream as he breeds me against the pillar, the sound echoing off canyon walls. Let them hear. Let them know I choose this. Choose him.

When his knot swells, locking us together, he turns so they can see. My back still against the pillar but now facing outward, on display. His seed pulses into me with each heartbeat, and I can feel it dripping out around his knot, marking the sacred stone with our combined fluids.

“Mine,” he says, loud enough to carry. “She chooses me every time. Will choose me when the portal opens. Will carry my offspring.”

One of the young hunters stands, scales flashing anger colors. But Vek stops him with a gesture. Still planning. Still waiting.

Day 17 - Pre-Dawn

The provocations escalate.

They've moved closer during the night. Close enough that their scents flood the den. They're not trying to hide anymore. They want us to know they're there. Want us to feel surrounded.

Rocks hit the den entrance. Not enough to damage, just enough to announce presence. Then voices, carried on the still air.

“She smells fertile,” one says. The yellow-scaled one from before. “Ready for breeding.”

“The old hunter can't satisfy her,” another adds. “That's why she screams so much. Frustration.”

“When we take her, we'll show her proper breeding.”

Khor's control is fraying. His claws extend and retract repeatedly, a nervous gesture I've never seen from him. The threat to his claim is real now. Four young males working together could potentially overwhelm him.

“Ignore them,” I say.

“Cannot ignore direct challenge much longer. Rules demand response.”

“What kind of response?”

“Combat. Or abandonment of territory.” His tail wraps around my ankle, possessive even in his agitation. “But first, must secure you.”

The sex that morning is different. Desperate. He takes me three times before dawn, each coupling more intense than the last. Marking me inside and out with his scent. His seed. His claim. By the time the sun rises, I'm so thoroughly covered in his pheromones that I smell more like him than myself.

“Tomorrow I deliver payment,” he says against my throat. “Cannot delay longer.”

“They know?”

“Of course they know. Is why they push harder today.” His teeth graze the spot where bond bite would go. “When I leave, they come.”

“All four?”

“Yes.”

The rest of the day is preparation disguised as normal activity. I organize my weapons where I can reach them quickly. Paralytic spines wrapped safely. Sulfur crystals partially crushed. Obsidian blades sharp enough to cut shadow. Blood sand ready. And the secretion vial hidden but accessible.

Khor pretends to patrol, but really he's laying false trails. Making it seem like there are multiple routes away from the den when really there's only one he'll take. Trying to buy time, to confuse them about when exactly he leaves.

That night, they get bold enough to approach the den directly.

I see them clearly for the first time in days. Vek has lost weight, his scales dull with stress and poor nutrition. He's been putting everything into this plan. The others look tired too. Young bodies pushed past their limits by obsession.

“Tomorrow, old hunter,” Vek calls out. “Tomorrow you leave for checkpoint. And we wait.”

Khor doesn't respond. But his breeding that night has an edge of violence that speaks louder than words. He's claiming me like it might be the last time. His knot stays swollen while he tells me things in his language that the translator can't quite parse. Promises or threats or prayers.

Day 18 - Full Day

They try everything.

Water sources fouled worse than before. Not just waste now but something that makes the water smell like death. We're down to our last stores.

Snares set on the paths around the den. Amateur work, easy to spot, but meant to exhaust us with constant vigilance.

And the taunting never stops. Descriptions of what they'll do when they claim me. How they'll share me. How they'll make me forget Khor's touch.

“Let them talk,” Khor says, but his control is hanging by threads.

He marks territory again, but this time it's different. Desperate. He breeds me on every surface near the den, sometimes not even coming, just making sure our scents are mixed everywhere. Making sure anyone who enters will know I've been claimed hundreds of times.

By evening, we're both exhausted. Dehydrated. Pushed to limits by the constant threat and the heat and the provocations.

“I could just take the bond bite,” I say. “End all of this.”

“No.” His response is immediate. “Not like this. Not because of them. When you take bond, it's your choice. Not forced by children playing at being hunters.”

Day 19 - Morning

He wakes me before dawn.

“Time to go.”

The payment vials are secured in his pack. The journey to the checkpoint will take most of the day. He'll be gone until tomorrow at least.

“They're watching,” I say.

“Yes. Waiting for me to leave.” He checks my weapons, making sure I can reach everything. “Remember what I taught you.”

“Use their assumptions against them.”

“And?”

“Survive. Whatever it takes.”

He kisses me. We don't usually kiss, mouths not quite compatible, but he tries. It tastes like goodbye and promise and alien spice.

“When I return, if you're gone...” He doesn't finish.

“I won't be gone.”

“If you are. I'll find you. Wherever they take you. However long it requires.”

Then he's leaving, taking the main path, not trying to hide. Let them see. Let them know the countdown has started.

I watch from the den entrance as his crimson form disappears into the morning heat shimmer. Behind me, I hear movement. Scales on stone. Multiple bodies shifting position.

They're coming.

I go back inside the den. Check my weapons one more time. The paralytic spines. The sulfur crystals. The obsidian blades. The blood sand. And the special one, the secretion vial that will turn their own biology against them.

Four young hunters think they're about to claim easy prey. They're about to learn why human females survived Earth long enough to be worth trading.

Outside, footsteps approach. Multiple sets. No more hiding.

“Female,” Vek's voice carries through the entrance. “The old hunter is gone.”

I take a breath. Feel the weight of weapons hidden on my body. Think of Khor's lessons about survival.

“Then come in,” I call back. “Let's finish this.”

Eleven days until the portal opens.

Eleven days to decide my future.

But first, I have to survive the next few hours.