Journal of a lazy girl @nilsavatar - Tumblr Blog

DAY 31 - A/B/O PART 2

Parings: Neteyam x Fem!Avatar

PART 1, PART 3, PART 4, FINALE

Genre/Warnings: no use of Y/N, ANGST, difference in power (alpha-omega dynamics), soft-dom Neteyam (mention of marking, possessive behavior, but he’s kind and caring), Jamie Flatters cameo. All characters are AGED-UP.

Summary: Living in the body of an avatar is not as simple as one might think.

Little note: For a long time, I racked my brains over a possible sequel to this one-shot written way back in 2023 because I wanted to give closure to the open ending I had left, and I finally did it. It will be a short story; I don't want to get into a plot that's too complicated (BITING is already giving me a hard time finishing it, lol). Just a bit of healthy angst and fluff, in which Neteyam is already madly in love but doesn't know how to show it without being a pushy alpha, and the protagonist is a stubborn and proud little omega.

Neteyam is a bit cheesy, but from the way he shows how much he cares for his family, it's in character to be a romantic in a love context.

The names of all my protagonists are chosen via poll by my readers. Readers who see themselves in the protagonists as they are not physically described on purpose. This is a stylistic choice, so please, be kind enough to simply not reading it if it bothers you.

Word Count: 8,4k

The return to her human body was a violent jolt, like being plunged into ice water. Aubree gasped, the sterile air of the Link Unit room burning her lungs. Her limbs felt heavy, alien, and a deep, phantom ache resonated from a place her human form didn’t possess. Mortification washed over her in hot, relentless waves; the memories were a chaotic blur of overwhelming sensation, primal need, and a face she now knew all too well.

Neteyam.

His final words echoed in her mind, a promise and a threat wrapped in the soft cadence of his language: I’ll take care of you from now on.

She stayed disconnected for two full days, citing post-heat recovery, a truth that barely scratched the surface of her turmoil. When she finally gathered the courage to log back in, her avatar felt… different. His scent lingered faintly on her skin, a ghostly reminder that only she could perceive, a brand invisible to all but her own traitorous senses. Her mission was clear: avoid Neteyam te Suli Tsyek’itan at all costs. But it’s hard to be invisible in a rainforest when the person looking for you can track a shadow across a moss-covered stone.

Aubree’s strategy of becoming a ghost failed immediately. The day she finally linked, she spotted the familiar blue beads of Neteyam’s warrior queue near the communal cook-fire. Panic spiked, and she pivoted 180 degrees, opting for a grueling, vertical climb up a massive root system to take the ‘scenic’ high-path. She spent half an hour sweating and scraping her knees, only to find him sitting at the overlook, calmly sharpening a dagger. He didn’t even look up, just let out a soft, melodic huff of amusement. “You took the long way, sevin. I was wondering if you’d gotten stuck in the vines.”

A week later, she volunteered for a gathering party, waded through the easter marshes, certain that the man was scheduled for a hunt in the opposite direction. She spent hours ankle-deep in a mixture of subsoil, gravel, and water, when a dark shadow fell over her; she froze. Instead of a predator, it was the young Olo’eyktan, perched effortlessly on a low-hanging branch. He dropped a sweet fruit into her basket with a wink. “You missed a spot,” he declared, his tail twitching with a mocking cheerfulness. “And you’re covered in mud. It… suits you.”

One evening, seeing him approaching the walkway, Aubree ducked behind a massive fern, holding her breath until her lungs burned. She watched his feet pass by and felt a surge of triumph. She waited a full minute before stepping out, just to find him leaning against the very next tree, arms crossed over his chest and a wide, knowing grin on his face. “Are we playing a game?” he asked, his voice low and buzzing. “Because I should tell you—I am very good at finding things that try to hide.” To Neteyam, her frantic avoidance was the most endearing thing he’d ever witnessed. He treated her retreats like a slow-motion dance, watching her scamble with the patient affection of someone who knew the ending of the story long before the book was closed.

His opportunity finally came near the bioluminescent cove, a place where the air was thick with the scent of damp earth and night-blooming flora. The scientist had been attempting to blend in with a group of weavers, but the moment she saw his silhouette, she made a break for the treeline.

She didn’t get far.

A hand, warm and solid, caught her upper arm—not with force, but with an inescapable certainty. He used her own momentum to spin her around, her back hitting the broad, rough bark of a mangrove tree. He didn’t pin her; he simply leaned one hand against the trunk next to her head, effectively sealing her world to the space between his chest and the wood. At this short distance, her head hardly reached his chin, the glowworms casting lively shadows across his high cheekbones. He looked far too relaxed for a man who had been “chased” for days.

“You are very fast for someone who claims to still be recovering.” “I’m busy, sir.” “You have been running,” his voice a melodic thrum that vibrated right through Aubree’s ribs. “From the village or from me?” “I’m not running.” “No?” He leaned in closer, close enough that she could sense the heat radiating off his skin. His tail flicked behind him, brushing against her ankle—a deliberate, grounding caress. “Then why is your heart drumming like a trapped yerik? It’s very loud, syulang.” Her face flushed a deep, embarrassed violet. “It’s awkward, okay? What happened… what you said… You can’t just promise to take care of someone and then act like everything is normal.”

Neteyam’s grin softened into something more wolfish, yet infinitely more tender. His head tilted, a braid falling over his forehead, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw with agonizing slowness, his golden eyes locking onto hers with sheer intensity. “I never said things were normal. Things are different now. I felt you. You think hiding behind a fern or climbing a mountain will make me forget the way you clung to me, how you yearned for me?” His breath ghosted over her ear. “Stop running, Ma Bree. It is exhausting to watch, and I am starting to think you actually want me to catch you.” Neteyam was clearly enjoying the upper hand, but he was also waiting for her to stop fighting the inevitable.

She felt her back press harder into the rough bark, the physical boundary of the tree the only thing keeping her upright. His proximity was a sensory overload—the warmth of his breath, the faint scent of salt and crushed pandanus fruit, and that gold-eyed gaze that seemed to peek back every layer of her defence. “I don’t… I don’t want you to catch me,” she lied, her voice cracking in a way that betrayed her immediately.

Neteyam didn’t pull away. Instead, he leaned his weight further onto the hand pressed to the tree, closing the last few inches of distance. His thumb moved from her jaw to the corner of her lower lip, dragging slightly. It wasn’t a teasing touch; it was a claim. “Your mouth says ‘no,’ but your pulse says ‘I see you,’” he muttered, using the Na’vi translation for a profound, spiritual connection that made her knees turn to jelly. “You can keep running if you want. I enjoy the hunt. But my land is smaller than you might guess, and I know every crevice of it.” With a short, soft click of his tongue—a sound usually reserved for calming a restless ikran—he stepped back without adding another word, just gave her a devastatingly smug smirk before turning and disappearing as if he hadn’t just dismantled her entire nervous system.

Noticing how Neteyam was loving every second of the attention, desperate, the next morning, Aubree sought out Neytiri, the sole person who could give her advice on how to handle a Sully man, having been through it herself. A break-glass-in-case-of-emergency plan that was also, she realized five seconds into the conversation, a massive tactical error.

The Matriarch was by the river, her movements skilled, secure as she scraped the hide of a hexapede. She didn’t avert her eyes when the avatar approached. “You walk like a startled pup,” Neytiri said, her voice dry. “Sit. Your shadow is twitching.” She sank onto a smooth rock, picking at a loose thread on her military attire. “I wanted to ask you about how you deal with the… persistence.” Neytiri paused, her amber irises flicking in her direction. There was a glimmer there—not quite a laugh, but something keen. “You mean my husband? Or the son who has inherited his father’s stubbornness?” “Both? Either?” she sighed, dropping her head into her hands. “He won’t leave it alone. He follows me without following me. He watches me. He acts like... like I’ve already been caught.”

Neytiri went back to her work, the knife slicing through the hide with a decisive skritch. She didn’t offer comfort: “A Sully man does not seek. He decides. When Jake came to us, he was noisy and stupid like a child, but he had a heart that would not turn away. Neteyam isn’t his father. He is like the shadow of the mountain—he does not move for the wind. He waits for the sun to change.” “That’s not helping,” Aubree groaned. “I’m trying to keep some distance. For my own sanity.”

Neytiri grabbed her chin; her expression softened, though her gaze remained piercing. “My son is a warrior. But more than that, he is a protector. To him, you are no longer a guest or a tawtute (human). You are his mate. You can fight him, and he will find it funny. You can run, and he will find it a good exercise. But you cannot make him un-see you." The Na’vi let go, a small, knowing smirk playing on her lips—the exact same smirk Neteyam had used the night before. “If you truly wish him to stop, tell him his heart is weak and his aim is poor. But be warned, little scientist... if you lie to a Sully, they will simply stay closer until they find the truth.”

Just as Aubree was digesting the fact that she was essentially doomed, the Olo'eyktan voice drifted over from the high reeds. “Sa’nok (Mother)! The scouts are back. Syulang?” The dreamwalker jumped nearly six inches off the rock. Neteyam was standing ten feet away, holding a string of fish, looking far too pleased with himself. He looked at his mother, then at Aubree’s flustered face.

“I hope she did not tell you the story of how she nearly shot my father when they met,” Neteyam teased, his eyes dancing. “It makes him sound much more competent than he actually was.” Neytiri let out a laugh and gestured for her son to take the fish to the cook-fire. As he walked past, he leaned down just enough to whisper in Aubree’s ear, “My mother likes you. That makes it much harder to run away, don't you think?”

She immediately understood what he meant: Neytiri was famous for hating humans. The fact that she had even talked to her, and to give her advice at that, spoke volumes about how she viewed the dreamwalker. It was painfully clear what the Olo'eyktan's interpretation was, and she realized the Sully Trap was a family-wide phenomenon.

*

Work became her sanctuary; she threw herself into cataloging fungal bioluminescence with a fervor that bordered on obsessive. The forest, once a place of wonder, now felt like a minefield. Every rustle of leaves, every distant call of an animal, sent a rush of anxiety through her. Was it him? Her solace came in the form of Jamie. His easy-going nature and kind alpha presence were a balm to her frayed nerves. He never pushed, never pried, simply accepted her explanation of ‘a rough first heat’ with a sympathetic nod. They fell into a comfortable routine, analyzing samples side-by-side in the lab, sharing quiet meals in the canteen, their conversations a welcome distraction of scientific theory and jokes about the terrible instant coffee. With Jamie, she could breathe. He was a friend, a colleague. He was safe.

“You’ve been staring at that spore sample for twenty minutes, Bree,” Jaime said one afternoon, nudging her arm gently. “It’s not going to spontaneously confess its secrets.” Aubree blinked, shaking herself out of a daze. “Sorry. Just… thinking.” “About how to avoid the big chief?” he asked, his tone soft but perceptive. Her head snapped towards him, eyes wide. “Is it that obvious?” “Only to someone who knows you,” he chuckled. “And maybe to him. He’s been asking about your research schedule.” A cold dread trickled down her spine. Of course, he had.

Her luck ran out three days later. She was calibrating a soil sensor near the compound edge when a shadow fell over her. She didn’t need to look up to know who it was—his scent, a strong mix of rainforest, leather, and pure alpha, preceded him. “A great scientist of the Sky People, reduced to playing in the dirt,” his voice was a low, amused rumble. The woman refused to look at him, keeping her eyes fixed on the sensor’s display. “I’m collecting important geological data, Olo’eyktan. It’s vital to understanding Pandora’s ecosystem.” “Is it?” He crouched down beside her, far too close for comfort; she could feel the heat radiating from his body. “It seems to me you are simply finding new ways to hide.” “I don’t know what you mean,” she retorted, her voice tight. “My job is my priority. As a leader, I’m sure you value duty.” “Oh, I understand duty very well,” he murmured, his gaze tracing the line of her neck. “I also understand instinct. An omega’s instinct is not to run from her alpha.”

Her composure finally cracked. She stood abruptly, turning to face him. “I am not your omega! What happened was a biological imperative. A chemical reaction. It meant nothing.” Neteyam rose to his full, intimidating height, a playful smirk tugging on his lips. He was thoroughly enjoying this. “A chemical reaction? You bit my neck gland, almost marking me. Was that also a biological imperative?”

Among the Na'vi, biting the gland behind the neck had a very specific meaning: a declaration of ownership. The bite served to leave a permanent scent on the designated partner to ward off any suitors awaiting the union ceremony through tsaheylu, which would make them an official pair. Aubree had a pale remembrance of the episode because of the foggy ecstasy she was immersed in, but she perfectly remembered one sentence: I won’t mark you until you ask me to. His husky tone while pronuncing each single word. Heat flooded her cheeks.

“You are the Olo’eyktan. I am a xenobiologist. Our roles are… incompatible.” He took a slow step towards her, forcing her to take one back. “You made me knotting you.” “We have nothing in common.” “We have everything in common,” he countered, his voice dropping to a seductive whisper. “You and I, Aubree, we are the most natural thing on this entire moon. You can hide behind your science and your excuses, but you cannot change what we are.” He leaned in, his lips brushing her ear. “And I am a very patient hunter.”

He left her then, heart hammering against her ribs, his snickering echoing softly as he disappeared back into the trees. The encounter left her shaken, but more determined than ever to keep her distance. She redoubled her efforts, sticking close to Jamie like a shadow. His presence was her shield.

The breaking point came a couple of weeks later. Aubree and Jamie were in the main common area, laughing over a ridiculous error in a data translation program. The guy, caught up in the moment, threw an arm around her shoulders in a gesture of platonic camaraderie. “You see? I told you the machine thinks toruk is a type of vegetable!” he howled with laughter. She was wiping tears of mirth from her eyes when the atmosphere in the room shifted. The ambient chatter died down. The air grew thick, charged with an energy that was both terrifying and familiar. Neteyam stood in the doorway, the playful smirk was gone, eyes hard as stone, narrowed and fixed on Jamie's arm wrapped around her. His jaw was clenched, the muscles in his neck corded with tension.

He wasn't looking at her as the Olo'eyktan or as an amused suitor. He was looking at her as an alpha whose territory had been invaded. The scent rolling off him was dense, dominating, and laced with a dangerous jealousy that made her omega tremble. He walked towards them, the other avatars in the room sensing the shift, instinctively gave him a wide berth. Jamie, feeling a sudden chill, slowly removed his arm from Aubree’s shoulder, his own alpha recognizing a challenge he was not equipped to meet. The silence was deafening. He dismissed the opponent with a single command: “Leave.” Aubree’s breath hitched, laughter died in her throat, replaced by a knot of ice in her stomach. Jamie, to his credit, didn’t cower, but he was no fool. He was a scientist, not a warrior. He gave Aubree a quick, concerned look before rising slowly from his seat. “Bree, I’ll see you in the lab later.” He nodded curtly at Neteyam and made a strategic retreat, melting into the crowd of silent, watching avatars.

The moment Jamie was gone, Neteyam’s entire focus narrowed onto her. He took a step forward, invading her personal space, forcing her to lean back against the table. He lowered his head, his intricate braids brushing her shoulder, and inhaled deeply near her neck. A shiver of involuntary memory and raw fear traced its way down her spine. “You reek of him,” he growled, the vibration of his voice resonating through her bones. “Of another alpha.” “He is my friend!” she began, forcing a level tone she didn’t feel, pushing against his chest with the flat of her palms. It was like pushing against a stone wall. “My colleague. In our culture, friendship between men and women is normal. It means nothing.” “We are not in your culture,” he countered, his grip suddenly finding her wrist, his fingers wrapping around it with unyielding strength. The touch was not gentle or seductive like it had been in the shelter; it was possessive, branding. “And this has nothing to do with men and women. You are an omega. My omega. Did you forget what happened between us so quickly? Did it mean so little that you would allow another to touch you so freely?”

The injustice of his accusation made her spirit flare. “You have no claim on me! That was heat, instinct; it was not a choice. I will not be treated like property.” A savage light glinted in his eyes. He saw her defiance not as a right, but as a challenge to be conquered. The whispers and stares from the rest of the room faded into a dull hum in the background. “This is not the place,” he said, his voice deceptively soft. Before she could react, he pulled her from her seat, his strength easily overwhelming her resistance. She stumbled, forced to follow as he strode purposefully towards the exit. Her protests were sharp, indignant whispers. “Let go of me! Neteyam, you can’t do this!”

He didn’t answer, his grip tightening as he pulled her out of the sterile, brightly lit outpost and into the encroaching twilight of the Pandoran vegetation. The intimate, humid air felt different now, charged with his anger. He dragged her past the perimeter fence and into the shadows of the towering flora, away from the prying eyes of her people and into the heart of his domain. He stopped beneath the sprawling branches of a weeping willow-like tree, its bioluminescent strands casting a soft, ethereal glow on their faces. He released her wrist, but she was cornered, the massive trunk at her back and his imposing frame in front of her.

“Here,” he said, his voice regaining its low, rumbling authority. “Here, you cannot hide behind your sawtute (Sky People) rules. Here, there is only us.” His eyes scanned her visage, irk simmering down into something more intense, more complicated. “Now, you will listen.” “Listen?” Aubree’s voice was acute with disbelief, her irritation transmuting into pure, indignant resentment. “Listen to what? Your primitive proclamations? You dragged me out of my home, away from my colleagues, because you saw me laughing with a friend. Is this how an Olo’eyktan behaves? Like a jealous toddler?” “A toddler?” The word was a low rumble in his chest. He took a step closer, the soft light catching the hard planes of his face. “You call it jealousy, I call it sense. Do you have any idea what you are broadcasting to every alpha within smelling distance? The scent of us still clings to you, and you cover it with that of another male. It is a sign of disrespect. It is a provocation.” “It’s the smell of a guy I work with in a lab!” she shot back, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. “It’s not a provocation, it’s life! Something you clearly know nothing about. You think because of some biological fluke, some uncontrollable hormonal surge, that you own me now?” “Own you?” Neteyam’s expression darkened further. “This is not about ownership. This is about the Way of the People, a way you choose to ignore. When an alpha cares for an omega through their heat, a connection is forged. It is a statement. For you to then seek the close company of another is to tell the world that my protection was not enough. That I wasn’t enough.”

The raw hurt in his voice caught her off guard, momentarily silencing her. She saw past the formidable warrior and the clan leader to the male standing before her, his pride wounded. “That’s not… It has nothing to do with you being enough. It has to do with me having a life! A job! Friends! I cannot simply lock myself away because you’ve decided we have some sacred, unbreakable bond that I never agreed to!” “You begged for me,” he whispered, the words a devastatingly quiet blow. He reached out, his fingers tracing the line of her temple, his touch sending an unwanted jolt through her. “You cried for me to stay inside you forever. Was that also the ‘biological fluke’ speaking?” Aubree flinched, pulling her head away from his touch as if burned. Hot tears of shame and fury pricked her eyes. “That’s not fair. You know I wasn’t myself.” “But I was,” he insisted, his voice intense, pleading. “I was myself. And I chose you, Aubree. Not just in the heat, but before it. I saw you. And I chose you. And I will not stand by and watch you carelessly endanger yourself because you are too stubborn to see the truth.” “The only one endangering me right now is you!” she cried, finally pushing him back with all her might. He stumbled, surprised by her force. “You’re the one who is possessive and controlling! You’re the one who refuses to listen! I am a human scientist first. I will not sacrifice who I am to become some submissive omega mate for your pride!”

He stared at her, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. The sounds of the forest, which had seemed to hold their breath during their argument, slowly filtered back in. He saw the genuine fear and conflict warring in her eyes, the desperate fight for an identity she felt was slipping away. Neteyam's anger finally broke into weary frustration. “Is that what you think this is about?” he asked, his voice laced with a profound sadness. “My pride? I look at you, and I don't see a submissive omega. I see a mate. A partner. Fierce, intelligent, and infuriating.” He took a step back, giving her space, his hands held up in a gesture of surrender. “But if you see only a cage, then I am lost.” The silence that followed was heavy, filled only by the rhythmic pulse of the glowing woods and the distant, mournful cry of a banshee. The word lost hung in the humid air, stripping away Neteyam’s bravado. For the first time since she had met him, Aubree didn't see the indomitable son of Toruk Makto; she saw a man who was genuinely terrified of a future that didn't include her. The anger that had sustained her began to leak out, leaving behind a hollow ache. She leaned back against the rough bark of the tree, her legs feeling like lead.

“It’s not a cage, Neteyam,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “It’s an erasure. Every time you claim me, every time you growl at my friends or tell me what my ‘instincts’ are, Aubree disappears. The scientist disappears. I become a biological function. I become… a shadow of you.” He watched her, his yellow orbs tracking the movement of her throat as she swallowed. He didn't move closer, honoring the boundary he had just set, but his tail flicked restlessly behind him. “You think I want a shadow?” he asked softly. “I have many followers, Aubree. Many bow their heads when I speak. I didn’t choose you because I wanted another person to obey me. I chose you because you look at the Great Mother’s world with eyes that want to understand every secret, even when you are afraid.” He took a breath, the freckles on his chest shimmering. “To the Na’vi, a mate is not a servant. A mate is the one who makes your spirit stronger. If I am overbearing, it is because I don’t know how to lose you to a world that doesn’t value you the way I do. Your Sky People… they see you as a tool. A pair of eyes in a false body. I see you.” “Then let me be me,” she pleaded, stepping away from the tree. “Let me work with Jamie without a scene. Let me exist in the lab without feeling like I’m betraying some ancient law I wasn’t born into.”

Neteyam looked away, his jaw tightening. The struggle was visible—the primal urge to guard his bond clashing with the respect he held for the woman standing before him. Finally, he looked back, his expression somber. “I will try,” the concession costing him. “But the scent of another alpha on you is like a scream in my ears. It is not something I can simply turn off. It’s not ‘science’ to me. It’s my soul.” He reached out, not to grab her, but to briefly graze the tips of her fingers with his own. The contact was electric, a stinging reminder of the fire that had consumed them only days prior. “Go back to your metal halls,” he said, his voice regaining some of its steady authority. “I will not follow you tonight. But do not think this is over. I am a hunter, remember? And I have already caught my eyes on the only thing I’ve ever truly wanted.”

With a fluid, tranquil grace, he melted into the undergrowth, leaving Aubree alone in the glowing twilight. She stood there for a long time, her hand still tingling where he had touched her, her mind a chaotic battlefield of logic and longing. She had won her freedom for the night, but as she walked back toward the sterile lights of the compound, the air felt colder, and the safety of the lab felt a little more like a different kind of cage.

*

Usually, the handshake between her human brain and the Na’vi nervous system was a seamless slide into a well-fitted glove. Today, it felt like stepping into a room where a candle had just been blown out—the smoke of last night’s confrontation still hung in her consciousness. When she walked into the lab, the usual hum of cooling fans and the rhythmic click-hiss of the automated samplers felt jarringly loud. She headed straight for her station, keeping her head down, her tail twitching with a nervous energy she couldn't quite suppress.

“Hey,” a kind voice called out. She nearly knocked over a tray of petri dishes. Jamie was standing by the centrifuge, a tablet in one hand and a look of profound concern in his kind eyes. He didn't move toward her, seemingly sensing the ‘Keep Out’ sign she was radiating. “Jamie. Sorry. I’m a bit jumpy,” she muttered, fumbling with her gloves. “I’ll say. You look like you went twelve rounds with a tanathor and the tanathor won,” he said, his tone light but his gaze scanning her face. He stepped closer, and for the first time, the woman felt a flash of annoyance at his proximity—the very person she had used as a shield only yesterday.

“Bree, about yesterday… when he took you out of here… did he hurt you?” “No,” she said, perhaps too quickly. She focused intently on calibrating her microscope. “He didn’t hurt me. We just… talked. He has a very different perspective on, well, everything.” “Clearly,” Jamie sighed, leaning against the lab bench. He was a safe alpha—his scent was mild, like ozone and clean linen—but today, it felt strangely thin to her. Insignificant. “The Olo’eyktan doesn't exactly do subtle. The whole outpost is talking, Bree. They saw him drag you out. Priya’s asking if there’s a diplomatic situation brewing.” She looked up, her jaw set. “There is no situation with Neteyam.” “Neteyam? You call him by his first name?”

Shit.

Jamie didn't push the point, but he watched her as she began to work. The shift he noticed wasn't just in her jumpiness. It was in the way she moved. Her posture, usually slumped in the typical scientist's hunch, was straighter, more alert. Her ears were constantly swiveling toward the open window that led to the balcony, tracking the sounds of the jungle rather than the data on her screen. “You’re not here, are you?” he asked quietly after a while. Aubree stopped mid-pipette. “You’re looking at those bioluminescent spores like they’re an enemy code you can’t crack,” he reached out to place a comforting hand on her shoulder. A gesture that had been their normal for months, but the moment his fingers touched her tunic, the woman flinched. It wasn't a choice; it was a violent, physical rejection. Her skin crawled, her inner omega snarling at the intrusion of a scent that wasn't his.

Jamie froze, his hand hovering in mid-air, his expression a mix of hurt and dawning realization. “Wow. Okay.” “Jamie, I’m sorry, I just—” “It’s the bond, isn't it?” his voice was stripped of its usual friskiness. He looked at her with curiosity tempered by a friend's grief. “I’ve read the anthropological reports. When a Na’vi alpha marks an interest during heat… it changes the omega’s neurochemistry. You’re physically rejecting other alphas. Even me.”

I won’t mark you until you ask me to.

“He didn’t mark me.” “Biting isn’t the only way, Bree. Maybe you can't detect it consciously, but your omega does. You act differently, I can sense it. It’s like my presence isn’t welcome anymore.” Aubree felt a hot prickle of tears. “I am not a lab rat, Jamie. I can control my own reactions.” “Can you?” he gestured to her hand, which was shaking. “You’re grieving for a freedom you haven't even lost yet because your hormones believe you belong to him. You’re acting like a cornered animal.” He took a respectful step back, giving her the space her biology was screaming for. “I’m your friend, I’ll back off. But don't let him erase you, okay? Don't let the ‘Way of the People’ swallow the girl who taught me how to properly calibrate a spectrograph.”

He left her then, the silence of the lab feeling heavier than ever. Aubree turned back to her microscope, but the fungal spores blurred. Jamie was right: she was changing. The sterile safety of the lab felt like a vacuum, devoid of the heat and the terrifying, vibrant reality of the man who was currently hunting her. She looked out the window once again. High in the canopy, a flash of blue and the flicker of a shadow caught the light. He was out there. He wasn't coming in, but he was there. The realization didn't bring the fear she expected. Instead, a treacherous, bright spark of ardor bloomed in her chest, a silent answer to a call she was still trying desperately to ignore.

On Pandora, the wind carried more than just seeds and rain. Neteyam was perched on a high outcrop overlooking the Resistance perimeter, his ears swiveling toward the structure. He didn’t need to witness the rejection to perceive it. Through the burgeoning, invisible tether of the bond, a hard spike of his omega’s distress had hit him like a physical blow—followed by a cold, instinctive snap of her energy, a territorial closing of her borders that made the hair on his nape stand up.

When she finally emerged from the compound an hour later, pale and shaken, she didn’t have to go looking for him. He landed in front of her with a thud that sent a flock of woodsprites scattering. His eyes still burned with a dire, primal satisfaction that he didn’t even endeavour to hide. “He touched you.” It wasn’t a question. “And your spirit bit him,” he stated, stepping into her space. He didn’t look angry; he looked victorious, his large palm cupping the back of her neck, his thumb grazing the very spot she had bitten him during her heat. “I felt it. Your body has stopped lying for you, yantu.”

The scientist tried to pull away, but the movement was half-hearted. Rejecting Jamie had left her feeling frayed, and Neteyam’s scent—now that it was close—acted like a sedative to her panicked nerves. She whined, her forehead dropping against his chest. Neteyam’s expression eased instantly. He wrapped his other arm around her, pulling her flush against him, his warmth shielding her. He didn't gloat. Instead, he tucked his chin over her head, his tail winding soothingly around her calf. He pulled back just enough to look her in the eyes, his gaze intense. “The other alpha... he is ‘safe’ because he's nothing to you. I am ‘dangerous’ because I'm everything. Don’t be angry at your spirit for recognizing its home.” He leaned down, his nose brushing against hers—a soft, tender nì’ul (more). “He will not touch you again. Not because I forbid it, but because you will not allow it. You are becoming Na’vi, Ma Bree.” The terrifying part, Aubree realized as she leaned into his touch, was that she wasn't sure she wanted to stop him anymore.

*

The “gift” appeared two days later, perched precariously on the railing of the lab’s outdoor observation deck. It wasn't a bouquet of alien flowers or jewelry. It was a harness—a beautifully crafted, hand-stitched leather rig designed specifically to hold her heavy field sensors and sample canisters. The supple ikran hide was reinforced with Omatikaya's intricate beadwork, but it was the scent that hit her first: the smoky, deep musk of his skin cured into the fibers. Aubree stood over the harness, her fingers hovering inches from the material. In Na’vi culture, a hunter provided. By giving her this, Neteyam wasn't just being helpful; he was wrapping her in his protection, marking her equipment so that any other hunter who crossed her path would know exactly who she belonged to.

“He’s impossible,” she hissed, yet her fingers betrayed her, trailing over the perfectly weighted leather, a traitorous thrill raced up her arm. The RDA nylon straps chafed; this was a masterpiece of ergonomics and care. She wanted to hurl it over the railing. She wanted to scream that she didn't need a provider. Instead, she found herself pressing the leather to her face, inhaling him until her head spun. Then, with a surge of defiance, she shoved it into her locker. She wouldn't be his omega on display. Grabbing her old, battered pack, she slipped out of the secondary airlock alone. She didn't check in with Jamie. She didn't request a security escort. She was a scientist, and today, she was going to be only a scientist.

“Damn you, Neteyam Sully,” she whispered into the silence of the deck.

The trek in the High Uplands was grueling. Aubree chose a coordinate in a region known for its treacherous root systems and a specific, rare strain of panopyra she had been dying to study. The further she got, the more the forest's peace seemed to press against her ears. I am fine, she told herself, wiping sweat from her brow. I am a xenobiologist. I know these woods. Yet every snap of a twig sounded like a footfall. Every flash of color in the periphery felt like a golden eye watching her. Her avatar’s instincts were on high alert, her ears swiveling toward every rustle. She reached the grove three hours in—translucent, bell-shaped organisms that pulsed with a soft violet light. Simply magnificent. She knelt to work, muttering: “Focus, girl. Data points. Soil acidity. Frequency. That’s all that matters.”

She was deep into a soil extraction when the forest went unnervingly quiet. The hexapedes stopped their chirping. The wind seemed to die. Aubree froze. Slowly, she reached for the knife at her hip—a standard RDA issue blade that felt small and pathetic in this environment. She scanned the treeline for Neteyam. “If that’s you, it isn't funny!”

No answer. Only the low, rhythmic thrum of the forest's heartbeat. Then, she saw it: a lone viperwolf scout— its six legs churning the loam as it spiraled the edge of the grove, eyes glowing with a hungry, predatory intelligence. A lone viperwolf was rarely a threat to a native, but to a distracted scientist with a human mind, it was a death sentence. Her heart hammered against her ribs—not with the good fear Neteyam inspired, but with the cold, sharp reality of the food chain. She realized, with a sickening jolt, that in her rush to prove her independence, she had forgotten the first rule of Pandora: Nothing survives alone.

The creature bared its rows of needle-teeth, crouching, muscles tensing for the spring. Aubree stood her ground, holding the knife out, her breath coming in shallow gasps. “Back off,” she snarled, trying to channel the aggression she had seen in the Omatikaya, but it lunged in a blur of black muscle and snapping fangs. Aubree didn’t have time to think, only to move. Her human brain screamed to turn and run, but her Na’vi body—honed by the neural pathways of a species built for this moon—took over. She dropped low, the weight of her pack shifting violently, and rolled to the left. The viperwolf’s claws whistled past her ear, tearing through the strap of her sample bag instead of her throat. She scrambled to her feet, her breath coming in sharp, ragged gasps. The beast landed, skidding on the damp moss, its six legs stirring as it whipped around with terrifying agility. It hissed, a wet, rattling sound that reverberated in Aubree's chest.

“Not today,” she snarled. The viperwolf circled, its yellow eyes locked onto hers. Aubree adjusted her grip on the knife. It was a short blade, meant for cutting through jungle vines, not skinning predators. She backed toward a large, protruding root of a Hometreedescendant, using the wood to protect her rear. This time, when it sprang again, Aubree was ready. She didn't just dodge; she counter-attacked. As the wolf’s weight bore down on her, she thrust the knife upward. The blade sank into the soft tissue of the creature's shoulder. A high-pitched yelp tore through the clearing. The viperwolf’s momentum knocked Aubree into the dirt, the air rushing out of her lungs as 60 kilograms of famished predator slammed into her chest. Its teeth grazed her arm, drawing a line of hot, stinging pain.

I am a scientist, she thought, but her avatar body disagreed, her vision tunneling. The omega instinct Neteyam kept prattling on about didn't feel like submissiveness now. It felt like a survival mechanism. A surge of white-hot adrenaline took over as she throttled the wolf with her free hand—her blue fingers locking with surprising strength around its windpipe—and drove her knee into its ribs. With a guttural scream of effort, she heaved it off. It tumbled back, gasping, the knife still buried in its shoulder. She stood over the wounded animal with a crystalline rock, but didn’t deliver the final blow. It was shivering, its bioluminescence flickering as its life force faded. Her heart was a drum in her ears, her skin slick with sweat and the neon-green blood of her attacker. The viperwolf, recognizing a predator fiercer than itself, retreated into the shadows, leaving a trail of shimmering ichor.

Aubree stood alone in the grove, her chest heaving. Her backpack was ruined, her arm was bleeding, and her hands were shaking so hard she could barely hold the rock. She looked at her hands—blue, powerful, stained. For the first time, she didn't feel like a human pilot operating a biological machine. She felt present. She had defended herself. She had survived Pandora on its own terms.

A soft rustle came from the canopy above. Not the frantic movement of an animal, but the light, calculated force of a warrior. “I know you're there,” she said, her voice steady despite the tremors in her limbs. “I don't need aid. And I definitely don't need a lecture.” She wiped the blood from her arm onto her pants and reached for her scanner, which had miraculously survived the scuffle. Neteyam dropped to the forest floor, landing with the silent grace of a wraith, his eyes scanning the scene—the trampled plants, the blood, and the defiant set of her shoulders with unadulterated pride.

Neteyam remained where he had landed, his tail twitching in a slow, hypnotic rhythm. The usual arrogance in his posture had been replaced by a focused stillness. His gaze traveled from the bloody knife on the ground to the shallow gashes on Aubree’s arm, and finally, to her eyes. “You are wounded,” he said, his voice a vibrating chord, reaching for the medicinal pouch at his hip. “Stay back,” Aubree snapped, pointing her scanner at him like a weapon. “I mean it, Neteyam. Don't you dare ‘save’ me now. The fight is over. I won.” The Olo'eyktan stopped, his ears flattening slightly against his head. A small, knowing smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth—the look of a teacher watching a prize pupil surpass expectations. “I know. I saw.”

The admission hit her hard. The adrenaline, which had been keeping her steady, curdled into a cold fury. “You saw? You were there the whole time? When it attacked? When I was pinned under that thing?” “Yes,” he said as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “My bow was drawn. Had its teeth found your throat, the nantang would have died before it could swallow. But you…” He shook his head, a glimmer of something like awe in his expression. “You didn't need me. You fought like a forest-stalker. Your spirit... it was fierce.” “You watched?!” she yelled, her voice echoing through the grove. She took a step toward him, ignoring the sting in her arm. “You think this is a game? You think my life is a field test for you to grade? I wasn’t fierce, Neteyam, I was terrified. And the fact that you sat up there, watching me struggle just to see what I’d do... that isn't protection. That’s surveillance. That’s treating me like a specimen in a jar.”

Neteyam’s expression hardened into the mask of the Olo’eyktan. “It is our way to know our mate's strength. How can I lead you if I do not know what you can endure?” “You aren't leading me anywhere!” Aubree stepped into his personal space, her chest nearly touching his. She was smaller, shorter, and bleeding, but in that moment, she held all the power. “That is the boundary, Neteyam. Right here. Right now.” She jabbed a finger toward the compound. “I am a human mind in this body. And today, I proved that this body doesn't need an alpha to keep it breathing. If you want to be in my life, you stop hunting me. You stop following me like a shadow. You stop ‘observing’ my work.” “You ask me to ignore my instincts. To turn my back when you walk into danger,” his lemon eyes searching hers. “I’m asking you to respect my agency,” she countered. “If I want your help, I will ask for it. If I want you by my side, I will invite you. But if I see you in the trees when I haven’t asked you to be there, I’m done. No more talks under the willow. No more gifts. I will lock the airlock and never come back out.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. Neteyam’s jaw worked, his pride visibly warring with the fear of losing her entirely. He looked at the ruined pack on the ground, then back at her. “You would choose the metal walls over the forest?” he asked quietly. “I would choose myself over being your pet,” she replied, her voice cold and final. He bowed his head slightly. It wasn't a full submission, but it was an acknowledgment. A truce. “The wound on your arm,” he muttered, reaching out again, slower this time. “It will fester; the nantang carries venom in its teeth. Let me at least give you the syaksyuk paste. Then, I will leave, as you wish.”

Aubree hesitated. Her arm was throbbing, a dull, hot heat spreading from the scratches. She looked at his hand—large, calloused, but surprisingly gentle as it remained open, waiting for her permission. “Fine,” she allowed. “But that's it. And Neteyam?” He looked up. “I’m keeping the knife. The next time I see a shadow in the trees, I won't call out your name first.” The ghost of a smile returned to his face, though it was tempered with a new, somber respect. “I would expect nothing less, yawne.” As he applied the cooling, pungent paste to her skin, the silence between them changed. It was no longer the silence of a hunter and prey, but something more complex—the heavy, charged quiet of two powers finally recognizing each other's borders.

Aubree entered the lab a mess—dried mud-mattered hair, her fatigues were torn, and a thick, pungent green paste smeared across a jagged set of punctures. Jamie stopped mid-sentence while talking to a technician, hurrying over, his eyes wide. “What happened? We were about to send a recovery team. You’ve been off-comms for four hours.” “Viperwolf,” she said shortly, moving to her station and uploading the data from her scanner, her movements methodical and stiff. “A viperwolf? You’re lucky to be alive!” Jamie reached for her arm, his fingers twitching. “That paste... that’s Omatikaya medicine. Did somebody find you?” Aubree stopped. She looked at the green smear on her skin—the mark of a truce she wasn't sure she could keep. “He was there. He watched.”

Jamie’s expression shifted from concern to a hard, cold, horrified realization. “He watched you getting attacked? And you’re okay with that?” “I’m better than okay, Jamie,” Aubree said, looking him in the eye. The vulnerability that had defined her for the last weeks was gone, replaced by a new, flinty edge. “I killed it. Well, I drove it off. Point is, I didn't need him. And I told him that. I told him if he ever follows me again without an invitation, we’re done.” Her colleague blinked, taken aback by the raw intensity in her voice. He saw the battle scars, but he also saw the way she stood—shoulders back, chin up, no longer shrinking from the alpha energy in the room. “You set a boundary,” Jamie murmured, a small, impressed smile tugging at his lips. “I didn't think you had it in you to bark back at the king.” “I’m not a trophy, Jamie,” she reminded him, though she felt the phantom heat of Neteyam’s touch on her arm. “Now, help me run a tox-screen on this saliva sample I scraped off my sleeve. I want to know exactly what that thing was trying to inject into me.”

Meanwhile, at High Camp, the atmosphere was far less clinical. Neteyam overlooking the valley, his fingers sharpening a bone dagger he didn't need to. His tail lashed behind him, in a frantic thwack-thwack against the surface. “You’re going to wear that blade down to a toothpick if you keep going.” He’ll recognize the reckless, mocking lilt of his brother’s voice anywhere. Lo’ak walked beside him, his golden eyes sparkling with mischief. “I heard the Olo’eyktan let a Sky Person bleed today,” Lo’ak said, leaning back on his hands. “The hunters are talking. They say you watched a lone female fight a nantang and didn't fire a single arrow. Dad’s going to love that story.” “She wanted to prove her strength,” Neteyam growled, his voice a low drum. “I gave her what she asked for.” “Did you?” Lo’ak tilted his head, his smirk widening. “Because you look like a palulukan told he can’t eat. You’re pining, big brother. It’s pathetic.” Neteyam’s hand clamped onto Lo’ak’s shoulder, his grip tight enough to bruise. “It is a bond. You wouldn't understand. You still chase after Tsireya like a pup.”

Lo’ak stopped grinning. He saw the tension in his brother’s back, the way his eyes kept flicking toward the distant lights of the human compound. “She’s a Sky Person, bro. Even in that body, she belongs to the metal city. You’re trying to tame a storm. You’ll just end up getting struck by lightning.” “She is not a storm to be tamed,” Neteyam corrected, his voice dropping to a whisper. “She is a mate to be won. But she has forbidden me from following her. She thinks my protection is a cage.” Lo’ak let out a short snort. “Well, look at you! You’re sitting here fumbling like a taut bowstring because you want to run to her. She’s right. You are a cage. You’re a great leader, bro, but you’re a terrible listener when it comes to females. If she said stay away, then stay away. Let her breathe. Or do you think she’s too weak to survive without you?”

Neteyam let go of his brother’s shoulder, looking out at the forest. He remembered the way Aubree had looked standing over that dying viperwolf—bloody, terrified, and magnificent. “She is not weak,” Neteyam admitted. “That is the problem. She is strong enough to leave me behind.” “Then give her a reason to stay that isn't about protection,” Lo’ak said, standing up and preparing to leap. “Because right now, you’re just the scary blue man who won’t let her do her job. Good luck with that.” Lo’ak vanished into the tunnels, leaving Neteyam alone with his thoughts and a blade that was now too sharp.

@rivatar @faith2155

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