Rein had been tied up before.
Once by bandits.
Once by a noblewoman with boundary issues.
Once in a political hostage deal that he still didn't fully understand.
But none of those compared to this.
He sat on a mound of soft furs—more like a nest, really—surrounded by a low stone ring in a cave illuminated by glowing mushrooms and crude bone totems.
A silver chain, thick as his wrist, was coiled loosely around his ankle, tethered to a buried iron stake.
He tested it.
It jingled cheerfully.
The worst part? It wasn't even locked.
It just sat there, like it knew he wouldn't dare try to run yet.
Across the den, Zeraka stood bare-shouldered, half-armored, sharpening a curved bone dagger while chewing casually on a chunk of roasted beast meat.
She'd bathed—he could smell the clean fur and herbal smoke on her. But she still looked like a walking threat to the food chain.
Her tail flicked contentedly behind her.
"I could've run, you know," Rein muttered, rubbing at his forehead.
"You didn't," she said without turning.
"Because I blacked out for five minutes after you tried to ride me like a mating season sacrifice."
She turned, baring teeth in a smirk.
"You make it sound unromantic."
He stared. "You chained me in a cave."
"I fed you."
She motioned to the stone plate beside him: sliced meat, roasted root slivers, a cracked egg filled with thick, smoky broth.
"I don't want to be your pet."
"You're not," she said, crouching down in front of him. "You're my packmate. My chosen."
He blinked. "Chosen?"
"Only the strongest males get brought back to the den. You survived my pounce. You scratched my ear. You made me—"
She paused, throat twitching.
"…feel."
Rein tilted his head. "That really bugs you, doesn't it?"
She bared her teeth again—this time not in anger, but in something dangerously close to a smile.
"I don't know what to do with it. So I'm going to feed you, watch you, protect you, and mount you until it makes sense."
Rein's mouth opened.
Then closed.
Then opened again.
"Okay, that's a full sentence I didn't need in my brain."
Zeraka stood and walked over to the furs behind him.
Sat down.
Close.
Her scent wrapped around him—warm fur, leather, spice, and ash.
She didn't pounce this time.
She just… sat.
Then nudged his thigh with her foot.
He looked over.
She nodded once.
Lap. Now.
Rein blinked. "You want me to—"
"Do it," she said. "I've killed lesser men for less hesitation."
"Charming."
Still, he let out a slow breath and eased down, resting his head tentatively on her thigh.
It was… surprisingly warm.
Solid. Comfortable.
She didn't move.
Didn't stroke his hair. Didn't breathe down his neck.
She just sat still, letting him lie there.
Like she wasn't sure how to be touched back yet.
Then softly, more to herself than to him, "Mine."
Rein sighed.
"Gods help me, I've been kidnapped by a beast with abandonment issues."
Her tail thumped once, wagging against the furs.
She said nothing.
But the corner of her mouth twitched.
_____
The next morning—or what passed for morning in the Devourlands' endless twilight—Rein woke up with a mouth full of fur and a leg trapped beneath something disturbingly warm and heavy.
It was Zeraka's tail.
She'd apparently coiled around him in her sleep like a protective, homicidal python.
One arm was slung over his waist.
Her chest pressed against his back.
He hadn't been tucked in so much as braced for territorial warfare.
Her breathing was steady.
Deep. Peaceful.
Rein tried to shift.
Zeraka growled in her sleep and tightened the grip around his stomach.
He went still.
"Right," he whispered. "Cuddling is non-negotiable."
Eventually, she stirred, yawned like a lioness mid-stretch, and pulled away with surprising gentleness.
As she sat up and shook out her mane, Rein stared at her back—scarred, muscled, raw with strength that made no apologies.
He wanted to say something snarky.
But instead, he asked, "Do you always sleep like that?"
She scratched behind her ear. "Only when I feel safe."
That shut him up.
The rest of the day was… bizarre.
First, she left the den without a word.
Rein assumed she'd gone off to hunt.
Possibly for food.
Possibly for a replacement fiancé if he annoyed her again.
Then she returned an hour later.
Bleeding from a shoulder wound.
Dragging the corpse of a two-headed firewolf.
She dropped it at the mouth of the den like a cat presenting a freshly murdered gift.
"For you," she said.
Rein blinked. "You brought me a flaming dog corpse."
She grinned. "It tried to sniff your tracks. I ripped its spine out. Eat its liver. It's symbolic."
"Symbolic of what, exactly?"
"Devotion."
"…Right."
It didn't stop there.
The next time she disappeared, she returned with an entire wagon's worth of looted pelts, ripped from a nearby mercenary camp she'd dismantled for insulting the scent in her den.
She'd left only one survivor.
The man had apparently screamed her name before dying.
"I like how it sounds when they beg with it," Zeraka said, casually chewing dried meat while washing blood off her boots.
"You have problems," Rein said flatly.
"Mine now," she said, pointing at him.