The hallway feels endless, but I never loosen my grip, not for a second. My claws dig into his side, my tail wrapped tight around his waist, daring anyone we pass to so much as glance in our direction. No one does. Not the guards, not the servants. They know better. My gaze alone promises ruin to anyone foolish enough to think about interrupting us.

  Our room is just as we left it, small, private, heavy with our scent. But now, the table is set again, a fresh round of hard bread, hunks of sharp cheese, thick slices of dried meat, and a pot of tea steaming gently in the low light. Someone in the guild is trying hard to impress, but I hardly notice the food at first. I only have eyes for Master, my hunger burning more for him than anything on the table.

  But the scent is good, rich, salty, sharp. I shove him down on the narrow bed, never letting go, then drag the whole tray close so I can eat while still sprawled across his lap, my tail flicking against his thigh. My ears flatten in pleasure at the first bite of meat, cheese crumbling under my teeth, hot tea burning down my throat, fuelling the feral madness humming through my veins.

  But all the while, my eyes never leave his face. I watch every flicker of expression, every little twitch, daring him to look away, to get distracted, to forget even for a second that he’s mine and I’m starving for him.

  I lean in, licking cheese from my claws, voice rough and breathless. “Eat, drink, look at me. Let them waste their gold trying to keep us happy, nothing here feeds me like your eyes do, Master.” My purr is a dark, greedy thing, filling the small room as I claim every scrap of him for myself.

  The knock comes sharp, abrupt, too sudden to be anything but someone important, or someone too stupid to care about their own safety. My tail flicks, ears flatten, but I don’t move an inch from my place, sprawled over Master, body draped across his like a living warning sign. My claws are hooked in his tunic, my teeth tearing into a slice of dried meat, grease smeared across my lips and cheek. My eyes are wild, blue, pupils blown wide with hunger and victory, breath still thick with tea and threat.

  The door opens, no permission asked, just authority, Guild Master, unmistakable, taller than most, ringed hands and that iron badge glinting in the low light. He walks in and stops dead. The air goes taut, thick with awkwardness and the raw animal scent I’ve left all over Master and the bed. For a heartbeat, all he can do is stare, mouth working, trying to decide if he should look away or stand his ground. My position is unignorable, legs tangled with Master’s, pinning his hips, one hand locked tight at his chest, half a plate of cheese and meat scattered around us like some animal’s den.

  If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

  I keep eating, deliberately loud, tearing off a chunk of bread with my teeth, chewing slow, meeting the Guild Master’s eyes with a stare that’s half threat, half deranged amusement. My tail lashes, sending a mug tumbling off the bed. I want him to see, want him to choke on it, the knowledge that there’s nothing in this city more dangerous than a pet who guards her master like a beast.

  He looks from me to Master, back again, clearly at a loss. I bare my teeth in a savage grin, licking my lips clean, crumbs stuck to my chin. I make no move to get up, no apology, nothing but a silent, predatory dare, Interrupt if you want to see what happens to people who try to come between us.

  Master, for his part, doesn’t flinch. He lets me hold him down, lets the Guild Master see exactly how things are. It’s not shame. It’s power, displayed without a single word.

  The silence stretches. I break it with a low, throaty purr, never once dropping my gaze from the Guild Master’s face, “You’re just in time. Care for a seat? Or do you prefer to watch?” My words drip with violence and ownership, and I bite into another strip of meat, daring him to give me a reason to move.

  He clears his throat, trying to find his composure, eyes skittering away from the mess of meat, crumbs, and the tangled violence of limbs pinning Master to the mattress. His voice comes out careful, forced into the shape of authority. “A report just landed. The council’s already heard back about that new group, a syndicate, the ones you picked out. Looks like they’ve moved fast. Too fast. They’ve set up a new guild hall on Merchant Cross.”

  I feel my fur rise along my spine, tail thrashing hard enough to slap the bedsheet, every instinct flaring with possessive outrage. He’s not looking at me. He’s talking to Master. He’s here to take something, my time, my focus, my claim. He’s here to pull my Master’s attention away from me, right when I’ve earned it, right when I’ve got him under my hands, his eyes all for me.

  The Guild Master doesn’t notice the way my claws dig deeper into Master’s chest, the little warning rumble in my throat, the way my entire body goes tense, coiled, ready to strike. He just pushes on, oblivious, too wrapped in his guild’s business to care about anything but results. “If you’re willing, the council wants you to move on it. Go to the new hall. Find out who they are, what they’re after, and if you can make them an offer. Or a warning. You’re not bound to accept. But the fact you two spotted them first means the job is yours, if you want it.”

  I glare, lip curling, daring him to say more, to keep stealing my Master’s gaze. “You could’ve sent a note. You could’ve waited.” My voice is a growl, broken glass sharp, trembling with rage and hunger. “He’s busy.” I make no move to get up, to hide what we are, or what I am half wild, all need, rabid and territorial. “If you want answers, you wait your turn. He belongs to me first.”

  I look down at Master, possessive and adoring, purring loud enough for the Guild Master to hear it echo off the walls.