Back through the city before dawn, the streets chilled, I stalk in with Master at my side, tail high, fur brushed smooth but every muscle under the skin quivering with the aftermath of too much tea and the rush of the job. The recruiter is there, already waiting, flanked by two council members in deep sapphire cloaks. The badges are out. Papers are ready. They look up as we enter, but it’s my Master who owns the room without effort. I can taste it, the subtle shift in posture, the ripple of respect and caution in every gaze. They’re all reading him, weighing his worth, trying to see how much of their future sits inside his skull.

I barely glance at the council, instead slipping into the seat right next to Master, half on the chair, half on his lap. I make it obvious. I want every one of them to see, he is mine. My tail wraps slow and deliberate over his thigh, and I lean into him, chin hooked over his shoulder, purring so low it rattles the wood. My eyes never leave the recruiter.

There’s tea on the table, Embercrack blend, sharp and bitter, brewed so strong the scent alone burns the back of my nose. I snatch the cup before Master can stop me, gulping half in one go. It’s poison and delight, the rush so immediate my ears ring and my mind fizzes and cracks. Every sense is electric. I can hear the scrape of the councilwoman’s ring on her notebook, the grind of Master’s teeth when he’s thinking too hard, the way the recruiter’s pulse picks up when I fix my eyes on him. I let it all in, then I let it go, nothing matters but Master, the unbreakable chain of our bond.

The recruiter clears his throat, voice smooth but wary. “So. Your report?”

I don’t hesitate. I speak before Master can, my words quick, precise, crackling with energy. “Four in the meet. Two Iron Pact, ledger and case. One city scribe, blue cloak, ink on her cuffs. Fixer from the river syndicates, turned up late, brought a bone token. They negotiated hard. Scribe offered four percent on cross traffic and safe passage, plus bribes. Pact wanted six and half the storage contract, threatened to choke off the river. Fixer undercut, wanted ten percent on ‘specials’ with no questions. Pact and fixer squeezed her up to eight percent and two guaranteed runs a month. Scribe’ll take it to council, but the Pact know they’ve won this round. They’re backing the river gangs now. If you want to keep Merchant Cross, you’ll need leverage, not just coin.”

The council murmurs, the accountant’s pen scratching rapid, impatient notes. The recruiter nods, slow and satisfied, but his eyes flick to Master for confirmation. I let my tail flick higher, drawing his attention back to me, just to remind him who’s really in charge here.

Master’s voice is low and absolute, cutting through the chatter. “Everything she said. They’re pushing hard, but the Pact’s confidence is thin. The fixer’s presence scared them more than they showed. You can use that if you move fast. Don’t let the scribe leave the city alone, and check your manifests. There’s a new player and they’re not subtle.”

He says no more. He doesn’t have to. The room goes quiet, all eyes calculating, scribbling, thinking of the next move. The councilwoman finally speaks, all numbers and law, wanting clarification on timelines and names. Master answers in clipped phrases, letting her think she’s guiding the pace, but every detail he gives is deliberate.

While they talk, I sink deeper into the chair, the caffeine setting fire to my blood. I watch every face, every gesture, every glimmer of ambition or fear that flickers through the room. I bare my teeth at anyone who looks too long, daring them to comment on the way I perch on my Master, the way my claws knead at his sleeve. I want them all to see how deep the bond runs, how feral I am, how claimed he is..

I drink more tea, a dangerous amount, chasing the edge of mania. My thoughts spin and snap, picking apart council secrets, memorising badge numbers, storing faces for later. But always, always, I circle back to Master, his scent, his heartbeat, the way his jaw tenses when the recruiter mentions bloodshed, the way his hand finds my knee under the table, anchoring me to him with a grip that means both warning and reassurance. I purr, so loud it’s almost a challenge, daring the room to try to separate us.

The meeting drags on. Agreements are made, favours tallied, the recruiter promises a “token of gratitude” for work well done. The accountant slides a pouch across the table, our cut. Silver, more than enough for a week’s peace, two if we’re careful. I snatch it with one hand, not even bothering to count. I know they won’t dare cheat us, not after what we delivered.

The recruiter leans forward, his smile a little too thin. “You’ve earned your keep. The council’s impressed. We could use people like you, long term.”

I let my claws bite into Master’s sleeve, my eyes burning. “We’re not people. We’re necessity. And you don’t own us. No one does.” I spit the words out, half threat, half promise. I want them to remember it, every time they reach for our leash.

The council laughs nervously, murmurs of “of course, of course.” They’re unsettled, but they’re hooked. They won’t forget who brought them the truth, who’s the shadow in their machine.

The recruiter stands, signalling the end. “You’ll have your rooms. Your food. More work, if you want it.” He eyes Master, but I step between them, tail flicking, smile sharp enough to draw blood. I own this moment. I own him. The city can play its games, but my Master is mine. Everyone here will know it.

My voice is low, raw, urgent against his jaw, every syllable soaked in want. “Enough of them. Take me back to our room. Now. I want you to forget every word they said, forget the city, forget the game, forget everything except your pet in your arms.” My purr is a threat and a plea, spiralling up through my chest, vibrating through him. I dig my claws in, daring him to try and ignore the wild, desperate need that claws at my every thought.

“Let them have their silver and their little victories. I want your eyes, your hands, your focus mine, all of it.” I bite at his collarbone, staking my claim, marking him not with blood but with demand and promise. “They get your work, but I get your obsession. I want you to fixate on me, the way only you can.”

I pull him up, refusing to let go, dragging him through the corridors with a single minded, manic possessiveness.

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.

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.