Claimed By The Touch-Starved Alpha Beasts

In the Aethel Empire, females were the rarest and most sacred beings. For every thousand male shapeshifters—Alphas—barely one female was born. Women ruled; men served. A single woman could lawfully take multiple husbands, and to harm a female was to invite death. Cassandra, a human from Earth, was about to become the center of this strange, worshipful world.

Cassandra's lungs burned. The air tasted like rotting sugar and heavy ozone. She pushed herself up, palms scraping rough ground. She opened her eyes. The world was wrong. Giant ferns glowed with purple light. Car‑sized mushrooms hummed.

She looked down. Black mud covered her hands. Her jeans were torn, her T‑shirt soaked in cold sweat. She tried to stand, but her knees buckled. Nausea surged.

Where am I?

The ground vibrated—a violent, rhythmic thud. A roar ripped through the foliage, alien and metallic. Adrenaline flooded her veins. She scrambled to her feet and ran.

Branches whipped her face. Behind her, the underbrush exploded. She risked a glance. A massive beast—dark armored plates, three yellow eyes, corrosive dripping saliva—charged.

She pushed harder. Her foot caught on a glowing root. She fell, tumbling down a steep incline, slamming into a tree trunk. The impact knocked the wind from her.

The beast stood at the top of the incline, preparing to leap. Cassandra's fingers closed around a broken branch. She gripped it until her knuckles turned white.

The beast lunged. She squeezed her eyes shut, raising the branch.

A blinding blue flash pierced her eyelids. The beast shrieked in agony. The ground shook as something heavy crashed nearby.

Cassandra opened her eyes. The beast thrashed on the ground, a smoking hole in its back. Above it, suspended in the air, were men. Black tactical suits, massive golden wings, humming blue rifles. One man—sharp features, intense green eyes—shouted a command. The others formed a perimeter.

The green‑eyed man fired another shot, silencing the beast. Cassandra let out a shaky breath.

A low growl sounded beside her ear. A second beast had crept through the bushes, already mid‑pounce, jaws aimed at her throat.

"Look out!" the green‑eyed man yelled.

Cassandra had no time to think. As the beast collided with her, she shoved the broken branch upward with all her strength. The beast's momentum did the rest. The sharp wood slid into its left eye socket—bleeding from a stray laser burn—and deep into its brain.

The monster went rigid. Its massive weight collapsed onto her, pinning her legs. Hot, foul blood sprayed across her face and chest. She lay there, hyperventilating, hands still gripping the bloody branch.

The clearing fell dead silent. The men lowered their weapons. They stared at her.

The green‑eyed man descended. His wings folded into his back. His boots touched the ground. He walked toward her, eyes wide, jaw slack. He looked only at Cassandra.

He stopped three feet away. Slowly, deliberately, he sank to one knee. He placed his right fist over his heart and bowed his head. In this world, such a gesture was reserved for one thing only: the presence of a female. Among Alphas, females were the ultimate authority—beloved, obeyed, never denied. A woman could take as many husbands as she wished, and those husbands would fight for the honor of serving her.

The green‑eyed man had never seen a human female before, but his instincts screamed the truth: this blood‑stained, trembling creature was a Prime—the rarest and most revered of all. To kneel before her was not humiliation; it was the highest privilege.

Cassandra stared at him through the blood and sweat stinging her eyes. She tried to speak, but her throat was completely dry. The edges of her vision blurred. The metallic hum of the forest faded to a dull ringing. Her grip on the branch failed. Her hands dropped to the dirt.

Darkness swallowed her, and she slumped forward into unconsciousness.