Page 24

THE SEED TAKES ROOT

Amelia's POV

I wake before dawn with my stomach churning like a storm-tossed sea.

For a moment, I lie perfectly still on the sleeping furs, hoping the nausea will pass if I don't move.

The den remains shrouded in darkness except for the soft blue glow of bioluminescent fungi Vex cultivates along the ceiling.

Their ethereal light casts dancing shadows on the stone walls, creating patterns that shift like living things.

When another wave of sickness hits—stronger this time, more insistent—I have no choice but to move. I slip from beneath the heavy furs as carefully as possible, trying not to disturb Vex's massive sleeping form beside me. His dark wings twitch slightly in sleep, but he doesn't wake. Small mercies.

The cold stone beneath my bare feet sends shivers racing up my spine as I pad silently toward the small chamber he's carved out for sanitation.

It's primitive compared to the medical facility where I used to work, but impressively functional for something hewn from living rock.

A natural spring diverted through carved channels provides fresh water, while deeper channels carry waste away through the mountain's underground river system.

I barely make it to the waste channel before my body rebels completely.

Kneeling on the smooth stone floor, I empty my stomach with violent heaves that leave me shaking and weak.

Even after there's nothing left to bring up, the spasms continue, my body wracked with dry retching that makes my ribs ache.

When the worst passes, I rinse my mouth with spring water so cold it makes my teeth hurt. The metallic taste speaks of high mineral content that would normally fascinate my scientific mind. Today, it just tastes like evidence.

I've been tracking symptoms with clinical precision for the past two weeks.

Missing my period. Breasts so tender that even the softest fur feels like sandpaper against my nipples.

The way certain smells—Vex's musky alpha scent, the cooking meat, even the stone dust—swing wildly between comforting and nauseating depending on the hour.

Bone-deep exhaustion that no amount of sleep seems to cure.

As head nurse at the settlement, I supervised care for dozens of pregnant women, including several carrying Prime hybrid offspring. I know these signs too well to deny them anymore.

With trembling hands, I reach for the small basket hidden behind a rocky outcrop. Among the medical supplies I've salvaged during our "training expeditions" is a simple pregnancy test—reactive strips that change color when exposed to elevated hormone levels.

I follow the procedure with detached precision, as if conducting the test for someone else instead of confirming what my body already knows. The chemical reactions occur in real time, molecules binding and shifting until the indicator strip shows an unmistakable positive result.

Pregnant. With Vex's child. A Chimeric hybrid growing inside me.

The tears come without warning, hot and bitter as they track down my cheeks.

I press my palms against my still-flat belly, trying to process the reality of what's happening inside me.

Prime fertility rates with compatible omegas approach 90% during heat cycles.

After the brutal intensity of my claiming, this outcome was almost inevitable.

"Amelia."

His deep voice cuts through my emotional spiral. I look up to find Vex filling the chamber entrance, his massive frame blocking out most of the light. Those yellow eyes lock onto the testing kit in my hands, pupils contracting to predatory slits.

"You knew," I accuse, anger flaring through the tears. "You could smell the changes in my body, couldn't you? And you said nothing."

He steps into the small space, wings folding carefully to avoid the walls. "Suspected," he corrects, voice unusually gentle. "Prime seed often takes root during heat claiming. But confirming the pregnancy required waiting for your confirmation.”

"Well, congratulations," I say bitterly, holding up the positive test like damning evidence. "Your breeding was successful. Mission accomplished."

I expect triumph—the territorial satisfaction of marking his genetic claim in the most permanent way possible. Instead, something surprisingly tender crosses his inhuman features. The fierce Chimeric Dominator who's claimed me with such overwhelming force suddenly looks almost... uncertain.

He kneels beside me, bringing his intimidating height down to my level. One massive hand extends toward my belly, then hesitates in midair.

"May I?" he asks quietly.

The request instead of demand catches me completely off guard. In all our time together, he's never asked permission to touch me. This unexpected display of respect feels both too little and strangely moving.

I nod before I can think better of it.

His palm spreads across my stomach with devastating gentleness, the heat of his scaled skin burning through my thin sleeping shift. The massive hand spans my entire abdomen, claws carefully retracted to avoid any possibility of harm.

"My seed took root in you," he murmurs, voice filled with wonder alongside possessive satisfaction. "Now no one can question my claim. You carry my legacy."

"Is that all this means to you?" I pull away from his touch, fresh anger cutting through my vulnerability. "Another way to mark your territory?"

Something flickers across his face—an expression I can't quite read. "The child changes everything. Provides you protection under mate provisions of Conquest Law that simple claiming cannot."

"I know the legal implications," I say sharply. Medical training has taught me too much about the brutal realities claimed omegas face. "Doesn't make this any less terrifying."

His wings shift slightly, betraying surprise at my knowledge. "You understand Chimeric hybrid development?"

"Enough." I wrap my arms around myself, suddenly feeling exposed in more ways than one.

"Accelerated gestation, increased nutritional demands, spinal modifications to accommodate future wing development.

Scale formation in the second trimester causing maternal hyperthermia.

" I meet his gaze directly. "Eighty-five percent survival rate with proper medical care. Much lower without it."

Instead of dismissing my concerns, he nods gravely. "We will acquire whatever you need."

The simple statement disarms me. Not denial or minimization, but acceptance and commitment. It's disturbingly close to actual partnership.

"The breeding facilities will want me even more now," I whisper, fear creeping into my voice. "An omega proven compatible with Chimeric genetics..."

"Yes." His acknowledgment is unflinching.

"Higher value target. But also greater protection under law.

" He moves closer, wings extending slightly in what I recognize as protective posturing.

"My child grows within you. What you carry is more than territorial marker—it is future, legacy, life that binds us both. "

Despite everything, something primal in my omega biology responds to his words. Beneath terror and resentment, a connection forms to this child that transcends how it was conceived.

"I don't know how to feel about this," I admit.

A rumbling sound vibrates through his chest as his nostrils flare wide. "Your scent changes again."

The shift in his focus is immediate and predatory. From gentle reverence to dominant intensity in a heartbeat. I recognize the signs—his body responding to hormonal changes in mine, alpha instincts triggered by confirmed successful breeding.

"Vex," I start, uncertain whether I'm warning him away or acknowledging what's building between us.

He moves with startling speed, one arm circling my waist to pull me against his powerful chest. His wings spread wide, creating a dark canopy that blocks out everything except his overwhelming presence.

"Breeding successful," he growls, voice dropping to that register that seems to vibrate through my bones. "My seed growing inside you. My omega. My mate. My child."

The possessive declarations should anger me. Instead, they send liquid heat flooding between my thighs, my traitorous body responding to his dominance with omega submission I can't control. My neck tilts without conscious thought, exposing the claiming marks that brand me as his.

"This doesn't change anything," I insist, even as my body contradicts every word.

His mouth captures mine, cutting off my protest with a kiss that devours. His tongue pushes past my lips without hesitation, claiming me in yet another way as his hands grip my hips with bruising force.