Chapter 14
A heavy crack split the undergrowth—vegetation bending and snapping under weight that wasn’t meant for land. Then came the scrape of claws on porous coral rock, louder and more deliberate than the skittering of the island’s small creatures.
It wasn’t the distant underwater clicks or the low thrum from the sea. This sound carried intent.
Klari went utterly still beside her, every muscle locked. His hand settled on Greta’s arm—just enough pressure to say stop .
She froze instantly, breath catching in her throat.
The rival was moving through the dense scrub maybe thirty feet away, pushing broad waxy leaves aside with his shoulders.
Even from this distance she recognized the silver jaw markings that had caught her eye back in the holding pod—the slow, knowing smile he’d given her then, the cold intelligence in his eyes.
Now those markings pulsed with faint bioluminescence as he lifted his head, scenting the air in slow, deliberate pulls. His tail lashed once, scattering violet spores from a disturbed berry cluster.
Greta’s heart hammered against her ribs. She looked at Klari. He gave the tiniest fractional shake of his head. Not yet.
The rival took another step closer, claws digging into the coral for purchase. The terrain fought him—his powerful aquatic frame was built for fluid grace in water, not this jagged, uneven ground. But hunger and the promise of claiming her drove him forward anyway.
Greta’s mind raced. She had spent the last quiet minutes unconsciously mapping the airflow around their overhang—the way the faint breeze funneled through the coral ridge, channeled by the dense vegetation into predictable currents.
She was a scientist; airflow and pressure gradients were second nature.
Leaning in until her lips nearly brushed Klari’s ear, she whispered, voice barely a thread of sound:
“Ten degrees left, then straight through the gap between the two tallest leaf clusters. The breeze is pulling that way—downwind the whole route. He won’t catch our scent if we stay low.”
Klari’s golden eyes flicked to her, sharp with surprise, then followed the path she described. He recalibrated instantly, nodding once.
Respect flashed across his face—quick, genuine—before his expression hardened back into hunter mode.
They moved.
Careful. Excruciatingly slow. Every footfall tested the coral first to avoid the telltale crunch.
Greta kept her body low, ignoring the fresh sting as her cut feet met rough ground again .
Klari stayed slightly ahead, shielding her with his bulk while following her whispered route.
The rival was maybe twenty feet away now, still pausing every few steps to taste the air, silver markings flaring brighter.
They almost made it clean.
A loose cluster of glowing berries swayed as Greta’s shoulder brushed it. Not much movement—but enough.
The rival’s head snapped around, pupils narrowing to slits. His markings flared vivid silver. A roar tore from his throat—deep, guttural, vibrating through the coral ridge and carrying across the entire island like a challenge.
He lunged.
Klari reacted instantly. He shoved Greta hard toward the coral overhang they’d just left—“Stay down! Don’t move!”—then spun to meet the charge.
She scrambled back into the shadowed pocket, pressing herself flat against the cool rock wall. Heart pounding, she stayed down exactly as ordered. But she did not look away.
The fight erupted barely ten feet in front of her.
“Holy shit!”
The rival was faster on land than Klari had anticipated—vicious and clearly experienced with these forced terrestrial hunts. He barreled through the scrub, claws raking.
Klari met him head-on, shoulder slamming into shoulder with a impact that cracked like breaking coral. They grappled, tails whipping for balance, claws slashing for purchase on scales.
The rival got in first blood. His silver-marked jaw opened wide as he twisted, driving claws deep into Klari’s side just below the ribcage. Dark blood welled instantly, slicking indigo scales.
Klari snarled but didn’t retreat. He absorbed the pain, using the rival’s momentum against him—driving an elbow into the attacker’s throat and following with a brutal knee to the midsection.
They broke apart for a heartbeat, circling in the narrow clearing. The rival’s silver markings pulsed wildly now, eyes bright with feral triumph at drawing first blood. He feinted left, then exploded forward again, faster this time, claws aimed for Klari’s throat.
Klari twisted at the last second, but not quite fast enough. The rival’s claws raked across his chest, opening three deep gashes that immediately began streaming blood down the silver ridges.
Klari roared in response—raw, furious—and countered with a savage swipe that caught the rival across the shoulder, tearing scales and flesh.
They crashed together again, grappling in brutal close quarters. The rival was all vicious speed and dirty tactics, trying to use his slightly lighter build for quick strikes.
Klari was heavier, more powerful, but the land clearly hampered his usual fluidity. Every movement cost him—blood loss already slowing him, the jagged coral underfoot threatening to trip them both.
Greta watched, breath locked in her lungs, as the rival landed another vicious slash across Klari’s thigh, forcing him to stagger.
Klari answered by grabbing the rival’s arm and slamming him sideways into the coral ridge with bone-jarring force.
The impact cracked loudly, but the rival recovered almost instantly, spinning back with a snarl and launching himself low, aiming to take Klari’s legs out from under him.
They hit the ground hard, rolling in a snarling, slashing tangle of scales and claws and whipping tails. The rival ended up on top for a terrifying second, claws driving downward toward Klari’s exposed neck while blood from both spattered the glowing leaves and pulsing berries around them.
Klari bucked violently, throwing the rival off balance just enough to avoid the killing strike—but the rival’s claws still sank deep into Klari’s shoulder instead, tearing through scale and muscle with a wet, brutal sound.
The fight had reached its most savage peak, neither male yielding, blood slicking the coral beneath them as they grappled for dominance ten feet from where Greta crouched, frozen but unable to tear her eyes away.