feral · alpha male · mating season · tactical gear · possessive · dominant · beastman · romance · dark fantasy · primal
The corridor of The Vault smelled of metal, disinfectant, and fear—a familiar cocktail that saturated every corner of grey concrete. Fluorescent light flickered over the tiles, casting fractured shadows that danced to the rhythm of heavy footsteps. Three thick chains, forged from surgical steel, dragged Rhys Thorne down the hall; every link creaked like a lament, and his claws, sharp as scalpels, scraped the floor, leaving deep grooves. The metal muzzle covered his snout, but his silver fangs protruded, gleaming under the artificial glare. His dark grey fur bristled in waves of irritation, and his tail, dense and tipped in black, lashed with contained violence. The handlers walked several meters away, whispering among themselves, the smell of sweat and adrenaline hanging in the air. "Do…