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She nods, absorbing this final confirmation of truths she's gradually been accepting since seeing dragon brutality firsthand. "I was such a fool."

"You were human," I correct her, surprising myself with the gentleness in my voice. "Humans look for saviors when conquered. Dragons just seemed like a better fantasy than felines."

Her scent shifts again—gratitude mixed with lingering shame and something newer, something I hesitate to name even in the privacy of my own thoughts.

"We need to extend patrol coverage to the eastern hunting grounds," she says, deliberately getting back to strategic matters. "If the dragons are tracking omega scent trails, that area will be especially vulnerable. Three unmated omegas from the settlement gather mushrooms there every week."

"Noted." I silently marvel at how completely she's integrated into our defense planning. Not a claimed omega offering occasional insight, but a full strategic partner identifying vulnerabilities and solutions with increasing sophistication.

Our planning continues deep into the night, the immediate crisis demanding complete focus. Yet beneath the tactical discussions, awareness of our evolving relationship persists like a second conversation happening beneath the words we actually speak.

By the time we finalize the defense strategy, exhaustion has begun to dull even my enhanced senses. Aria's human limitations show more visibly—dark shadows under her eyes, slight tremor in her hands as she indicates final patrol positions.

"Rest," I order, no longer just commander but something more complicated. "Tomorrow will demand full alertness."

She nods, gathering the notes she's made about cave positions. As she moves toward the door, a sudden impulse makes me speak again.

"Your quarters are exposed on the eastern side," I say, trying to keep my tone neutral, practical. "If dragons breach our outer defenses, that section would be vulnerable to direct attack."

It's true, but not my complete motivation. The thought of her sleeping alone in the path of potential dragon attack creates a physical discomfort I can't entirely suppress.

"What do you suggest?" she asks, her expression guarded.

I indicate the adjoining chamber to my own quarters. "The secondary commander's room is better protected. Stone walls, interior location, multiple escape routes if needed."

The room has been empty since my assignment to this forgotten outpost. No second-in-command has been appointed to Shadowthorn—further evidence of my political disgrace within the Confederacy hierarchy.

Her scent spikes with momentary surprise before settling into something more measured. "You think the threat is that serious?"

"I think preparedness preserves options." I hold her gaze steadily. "The room has its own entrance and privacy. I'm only suggesting proximity for security, nothing more."

Nothing more. The words ring hollow even as I speak them, but protocol demands the pretense. She is my claimed omega, but forced proximity beyond necessary heat servicing represents a boundary I've carefully maintained since her initial claiming.

Until now.

She studies me for a long moment, reading more from my scent and posture than my carefully chosen words convey. "Security makes tactical sense," she finally agrees. "I'll have my things moved there tomorrow."

I nod once, agreement reached on the surface while deeper currents remain unacknowledged between us.

After she leaves, I move through the fortress with restless energy, checking defenses, reviewing guard placements, assessing our readiness for whatever dawn might bring. My sensitivity to Aria's scent has only increased since her claiming, letting me track her movement to her current quarters, her brief washing up, her eventual settling into restless sleep.

The distance between us—the stone walls and winding corridors separating my chambers from hers—suddenly seems unbearable in ways that have nothing to do with tactical vulnerability and everything to do with instincts I've denied for decades.

In my private quarters, I make one final adjustment before trying to rest myself. The heavy wooden door connecting my chamber to the secondary room—long blocked and unused—creaks slightly as I remove the bar blocking it. I don't open it fully. That would be presuming too much for our careful balance right now.

But I leave it unlocked, the barrier between us reduced if not completely removed.

The dragons' assault has escalated more than just territorial conflict. It has forced me to acknowledge protective instincts I can no longer completely separate from tactical necessity. Aria is not merely a claimed omega or valuable intelligence source. She is?—

The thought remains unfinished as I settle into the restless alertness that passes for sleep among veteran commanders. My senses stay partially attuned to potential threats, to fortress sounds, to approaching dangers.

And to the scent of the omega who will occupy the adjoining chamber tomorrow, separated from me by a single unlocked door rather than fortress walls. Close enough for immediate protection if needed. Close enough for her scent to permeate my private space, where no human has been permitted since my assignment to this outpost.

Close enough for something more dangerous than dragon fire to continue growing between conquered and conqueror, predator and prey.

Close enough for transformation neither of us anticipated when claiming necessity first forced us together.

CHAPTER 16