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"Consort?" Vexar's laugh carries poisonous mockery. "You mean your breeding pet?"

That does it. I pass Marin to Isla's waiting arms and surge forward, water exploding around my massive form as I close the distance to Vexar in seconds. My tentacles wrap around his throat before he can react, lifting his bulk from the chamber floor.

"Call her that again," I whisper, my voice carrying deadly calm that makes the water itself seem to hold its breath. "I dare you."

"Neros." Isla's voice cuts through my rage like a blade, carrying that perfect blend of authority and submission that reaches parts of me no one else can touch. "He's not worth it. Show them what we've accomplished instead."

Her words anchor me, pulling me back from the edge of violence that would undermine everything we're trying to achieve. I release Vexar, letting him crash back to the chamber floor while my tentacles retreat to non-threatening positions.

"The refugee protocols work because they serve both species," Isla continues, her voice steady despite the violence that just erupted. "Controlled integration prevents the desperate raids that destabilize border territories. Hope makes people manageable. Desperation makes them dangerous."

"And who taught you this wisdom?" asks Lord Kythara, her ancient voice carrying genuine curiosity. "These insights into population management?"

"Ten years of fighting your enforcement squads," Isla replies with the kind of honesty that makes my cock throb with pride. "I learned your weaknesses by exploiting them. Now I use that knowledge to serve both our peoples."

The admission sends ripples of reaction through the assembly. Admitting to resistance activities should be political suicide, but somehow Isla's straightforward honesty makes it sound like valuable intelligence rather than criminal confession.

"I formally present mate-bond documentation for Council recognition," I announce, producing the legal instruments with tentacles that tremble slightly—not from fear, but from the emotional weight of what this represents.

Through our neural bridge, I feel Isla's complex response. Relief at legal protection, gratitude for my public commitment,but underneath, something that makes my hearts race—love. Not the desperate attachment born from dependency, but genuine affection for the male who's become her partner in ways neither of us expected.

"You request formal consort status for human breeding stock?" Nerissa's patterns flicker with something approaching respect. "This is unprecedented."

"She's not breeding stock," I reply, my voice carrying harmonics that make the dome itself resonate. "She's my mate. My equal. The mother of my heir and the architect of new possibilities between our species."

The baby in Isla's arms chooses that moment to extend tiny tentacles toward me, golden eyes tracking my movements with impossible focus. When I reach out to stroke those impossibly soft appendages, our child's consciousness brushes against both parents simultaneously—a triangle of awareness that feels more stable than any two-person bond ever could.

"The hybrid shows remarkable development," observes Threnod, his purple skin shimmering with interest. "Intelligence beyond either parent species' baseline."

"Because synthesis creates strength," I explain, one tentacle curling around Isla's waist to pull her against my side. The contact sends familiar heat through both our systems, biological compatibility that's become emotional necessity. "Marin represents evolution, not contamination."

"Genetic dilution," Vexar spits from where he's still recovering on the chamber floor. "Weakness disguised as advancement."

"Then explain this," Isla challenges, shifting our child so its bioluminescent patterns are visible to the entire assembly. As if responding to her voice, the baby's consciousness expands through the chamber, touching each lord's awareness with alien curiosity that makes them recoil in shock.

"It's reading us," Thalasson whispers, his ancient patterns flickering with awe and terror. "The hybrid can sense our thoughts."

"Not read," I correct, feeling paternal pride swell until it threatens to crack my ribs. "Understand. My child bridges consciousness between species through capabilities neither could develop alone."

The demonstration shifts the chamber's entire atmosphere. What seemed like political theater transforms into recognition of genuine evolutionary leap—something that could reshape both species' futures.

"The vote," announces Kythara when debate reaches its natural conclusion. "All in favor of recognizing formal consort status for the human Isla Morgan."

Hands rise throughout the chamber—more than I dared hope for, enough to provide clear majority. My political standing elevated, Isla's authority recognized, our child's legitimacy established.

But victory tastes different when it's shared. Not individual triumph but family success, protection for the beings I value more than my own existence.

As the session concludes and lords begin departing, I pull Isla close enough that her scent floods my receptors with familiar intoxication. The omega pheromones that once triggered simple claiming instincts now carry emotional complexity that transforms biological response into something approaching worship.

"We did it," she whispers against my chest, her voice carrying wonder at what we've accomplished together.

"You did it," I correct, my tentacles wrapping around both her and Marin in protective embrace. "Your intelligence, your strength, your willingness to trust me despite everything that came before."

Her response floods our neural bridge with gratitude and affection that makes my skin darken with arousal. When she tilts her face up to mine, offering lips that taste like triumph and submission in equal measure, I claim them with kiss that speaks of possession, partnership, and promises for the future we'll build together.

Marin's consciousness settles between us with contentment that radiates through our shared awareness—recognition that this strange family unit transcends every boundary that once seemed insurmountable.

"Take me home," Isla murmurs against my mouth, her words carrying invitation that makes my cock throb with need. "Take us home and show me what victory feels like."