out of the way!"
This was free, or close to it, I thought, with a gleeful kind of clarity, grinning toothily at the two-leggers leaping out of my way as I careened down the hall.
There was a roar behind me, unfamiliar, dangerous.
Predator. A good challenge. Better than the two males I'd left behind. I would play with that new one later.
"Bryony!"
A human name, how dull.
"Princess!"
Ugh. Even worse.
My claws skidded over the too smooth ground of the hall, and I slipped at a corner, huffing as I crashed into a wall, a yelp released from the other side of the surface. Following that sound would be fun, but—
There was a smell here…
My snarl was automatic. Familiar. Unsafe. Predator but also prey.
The great beast, big and dark and tall was catching up to me, making the ground tremble as he raced in my direction. But he was slow, and I was bigger than the males like me. Stronger.
I grinned at it as it chased after me, two-leggers close behind, my males following.
A game of chase. No, better. A hunt.
I called for them to join me, those males, and one snarled a threat in answer as I took off down the hall. Two leggers appeared with their glittering hard skins and their extra-long claw, but they stepped aside in deference to my beauty, their fear a pleasant appetizer to my hunger.
My Hunger.
I was chasing the trail of sweat and magic, of sex and pain, bounding down slippery staircases and across this great vast free cage, full of familiar smells. Most of them bad.
"Shit, she's heading for Camellia."
"Is it…worth stopping her—"
"Imagine Bryony's reaction if she eats her sister!"
Not eat. Bad meat. Slay. Hunt. Protect my mates.
My Chosen. I couldn't kill Camellia. Not like this. But I wanted her to see me. To know she was weak and small and fragile and would fit in my jaws like a snack. That I could pin her down with my great paws, and she would have no strength to make me budge.
"Bryony, stop!"
It was my name, after all. How disappointing.
Pieces of the woman, the human, were returning, my pace beginning to falter and slow. I huffed, and with it came a great taste of my prey, sour and sickly and stained. Bad meat. My hackles rose, and my growl broke free. I was close.
Footsteps chased closer, and one of my memory men skidded in front of me, his face red and eyes so wide I could see the whites. He smelled of anger and fear and magic. Something sweet too, that made the woman in me want to sit on her haunches and preen for him.
"Princess," he growled, and I bared my teeth in answer. "You cannot go in."
There was magic gathering in his hands, and it tasted like flint sparks on my fat tongue. I shook my fur in answer, lowering into a crouch, warning him I would pounce if he didn't move.
"I don't want to hurt you," he warned.
I growled. Threat.
The magic released from his hands, and I leapt up with a roar. It crashed into my chest, but I knew its flavor. It was my magic not his. The man dashed out of the way, and I slammed into the doors, wearing magic in my fur as I crashed against its surface.
They parted for me, and I snarled at the first wave. Pain, fear, anger, sex. Bad meat.
Two-legger men, weak and frail and sickly, scrambled out of my way, my men barking orders behind me. The trail was rich in the air, spoiled milk.
Camellia. Sister. Danger. Predator and prey.
The bear, Cress, padded at my side, ready to intervene, trying to push himself in my way, but I was too quick and sleek, and he was too devoted to harm me.
Camellia was on the floor mating, with the flavor of anger dense around her. She screamed at my arrival, scrambling off the man's cock and then kicking him in my direction. She was bone and brittle, so small, and I growled at her over and over, a low and steady rumbling warning as she wormed back until she hit the bed. Human words fell from her lips, garbled and pleading, but no apologies. She was afraid, but only for the moment. Only because she was faced with tooth and claw and strength where she had none. Her magic was there, but it fizzled weakly against me, and she flinched when it bounced away and struck her instead.
"Mistress."
I snapped at Cress when he tried to step between