All Chapters of Claimed By The Predator: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Thorne's POV He left the light on. He never does that. The prey dorms are dim by default—soft, low lights that don’t burn the eyes, all part of the "comfort design." But his lamp is on. Still on. Casting a thin, syrupy gold glow over his desk, the floor, the foot of his bed. I don’t know if it’s a mistake. Or if he’s scared. Or if, somehow, somewhere deep down, he wanted me to see him like this. And maybe that’s just me twisting hope into fantasy, but I’m already at his window again, breathing in the scent of him—the same cloying citrus, rabbit-soft air I’ve been addicted to since the first time I passed him in the hall. Except now it’s stronger. The room smells lived in. Soft laundry detergent, pages of a recently closed book, faint soap, and something warm and sweet that I can only describe as him. And the fear. It’s here too. Stale but clinging. Like he’d cried recently. Or had a nightmare. Or just couldn’t sleep, again. I don’t knock. I don’t have to. The window slid

Thorne’s POVHe’s late leaving his dorm.I know, because I’ve been here long enough to memorize the exact moment his door usually clicks shut. He’s six minutes behind today. That’s not like him.The hall outside the prey dorms is quiet, dim. Soft gold wall lights. No cameras that work—by design, I’d bet. Comfort, privacy… illusions of safety. I lean against the far pillar, in shadow, as he emerges.Bag over one shoulder. Hair damp from a shower, smelling faintly of lavender soap and the rabbit-sweet air I’ve been drowning in for weeks. He doesn’t look around. Doesn’t check the corners.It’s so easy to follow.I keep my steps slow, silent. Matching his rhythm without overtaking him.He takes the back path—the one with the cracked flagstones and the overgrown hedges—like always. Avoids the main walkway, probably because it’s lined with predator dorm windows. He’s prey-smart enough to know where the eyes are.Almost.Because as soon as the courtyard sounds filter in—too-loud voices, laug

Thorne’s POVI’ve been replaying it for hours.Not the words. Not the predators. Not even the part where they backed down because they recognized me.No.I keep replaying him.The way he froze when I stepped in. The sharp, startled flicker in his eyes before he smoothed it away. The twitch of his ears. The little breath he took like he was steadying himself before he spoke.My name didn’t pass his lips, but it didn’t have to. I saw it. I saw recognition.And that’s what’s different now.Before, he was a shadow in my head, an untouchable thing I could only watch from the dark. A fantasy I broke into reality every time I slid through his window.But now?He’s seen me.That changes everything.---I move through the halls with that thought coiled tight in my chest. My pace is slow, deliberate. My gaze slides over the passing faces, ignoring every scent except his.And then there it is — faint, but still distinct.Citrus and laundry soap. Warm. Home.I don’t follow him straight away. No.

Thorne’s POVIt’s been weeks.Weeks since I told those predators to back off.Weeks since Ari stood there, wide-eyed and trembling, while I made it clear — he’s not yours to touch.And yet, the image hasn’t left me.The way his ears tilted back. The way his gaze dipped like he was almost embarrassed to be defended. The way his voice never came.That silence stuck to me.So I’ve been… keeping watch.Call it a habit.Call it something worse.I call it making sure no one gets another chance.---He doesn’t know how easy he is to find.Even in a crowded hallway, Ari’s presence cuts through like light under a door — quiet, soft, something your eyes catch without trying. I can smell him before I see him.Warm laundry, soap, a faint sweetness that doesn’t belong to anyone else here.At first, I told myself I’d just… check in. Make sure he made it to class without someone trying their luck again. But then I started lingering. Following him between buildings. Cutting corners so I’d “accidental

Thorne’s POVPatterns are easy to form when you want them badly enough.And I wanted this one.After the library, I stopped pretending this was casual interest.The way Ari had looked up at me — startled, soft, but not telling me to leave — was a look I could build a habit out of. And I did.Every day, I put myself in his line of sight. Not too much, not too obvious, but enough that I became part of the background noise of his life. Hallways, between classes, the common room. I was there, not asking permission, not giving explanations.He never told me to stop.---The cafeteria was the easiest.He’d sit alone, head down, sometimes eating, sometimes just pushing food around his plate like it was a chore. I’d take the seat beside him, never across — always close enough that the heat from my arm brushed his.No tray. No drink. Just me.“Eat,” I’d tell him. Sometimes it was an order. Sometimes softer, almost like I cared — because I did. He’d always obey, no hesitation. I didn’t miss the