Page 21

CHAPTER 21

BLOOD AND CHOICE

Two months after the miscarriage, and my body feels like a stranger's. The physical wounds have healed, but I catch myself pressing my palm against my flat belly, searching for something that isn't there anymore.

Tonight, the fortress feels especially quiet. I sit by the window in my chamber, watching snow drift down over the mountains. The cold seeps through the glass and settles into my bones, a chill I can't seem to shake no matter how close I sit to the fire.

My fingers trace absently over the embroidered flowers on the blanket Vora brought me last week. The tiny blue blooms remind me of the wildflowers that grew near Haven Valley, of a life that seems to belong to someone else now. The woman who led those people feels distant, like a character in a story I once heard rather than the person I used to be.

I don't hear him coming. For someone nine feet tall and built like a mountain, Kazuul moves with uncanny silence when he wants to.

The knock startles me.

"Enter," I call, expecting Vora with her evening tea.

The door swings open, and my body betrays me instantly. Heat floods between my thighs. My nipples tighten against silk. My heart hammers in my chest as his scent hits me—hot metal and smoke and something uniquely him that makes my omega instincts flare to immediate, embarrassing life.

Kazuul fills the doorway completely, his massive frame blocking the light from the corridor. He ducks to clear the frame, curved horns nearly brushing the top despite the doorway being built for oni proportions. The polished obsidian curves catch the firelight, making them gleam with deadly beauty.

"You weren't at dinner," he says, his voice rumbling through the chamber like distant thunder. The sound vibrates in my chest, stirring something primal that makes slick gather between my thighs.

I swallow hard, trying to ignore the way my body responds to him. "I wasn't hungry."

His nostrils flare as he tests the air, and I know he can smell everything—my lingering sadness, my confusion, and most humiliatingly, the slick already gathering between my thighs. His golden eyes gleam in the firelight, pupils contracting to vertical slits then widening again as they adjust to the dimmer light of my chamber.

He's barely dressed—just loose black pants riding low on his hips, his massive crimson chest bare. The tribal markings etched into his skin seem to shift in the firelight, living shadows that tell stories of battles won and enemies defeated. The patterns follow the defined muscles of his torso, accentuating the inhuman power contained in his massive frame.

"Your scent has changed," he says, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. This is new. Since claiming me, he's always summoned me to his quarters. The reversal feels significant, as though some invisible barrier has been crossed.

My hand instinctively presses against my stomach. "The healers say I'm fully recovered."

"Physically," he agrees, moving closer. The temperature in the room seems to rise with each step he takes, his oni body radiating heat that my human senses can detect from several feet away.

The mattress dips dramatically when he sits beside me, his weight pulling me toward him until our thighs nearly touch. The heat radiating from his body makes my skin prickle with awareness, a trail of goosebumps rising despite the warmth.

"The loss changes nothing regarding your position," he says, formal words at odds with the way his massive hand reaches for mine. His four fingers are bigger than my entire hand, yet he handles me with a delicacy that still surprises me. "But everything regarding approach to potential future offspring."

My breath catches in my throat. "What do you mean?"

"The healers believe conception remains possible." His thumb traces circles on my palm, the slightly rough texture of his skin creating electrifying friction against mine. "If you wish it."

If I wish it.

"You're asking my permission?" The question comes out barely above a whisper.

"Yes." One simple word that changes everything between us.

I should think strategically. Should consider what this means for Haven Valley, for my position, for potential leverage in the future. Instead, I find myself leaning toward him, drawn by something beyond rational thought.

"Yes," I whisper, the word feeling momentous. "I want to try again."

The air between us shifts instantly. His scent thickens, becoming headier, more potent. His pupils dilate until the gold of his eyes is just a thin ring around bottomless black. The temperature around him spikes, his crimson skin almost seeming to glow with internal heat.

"Omega," he growls, the single word vibrating through me like a physical touch.

As if in response, a wave of heat crashes through my core, spreading outward until my skin feels too tight. Slick gathers between my thighs, soaking through my silk nightdress. My claiming mark at the junction of my neck and shoulder pulses with heightened sensitivity.

"What's happening?" I gasp, though some primal part of me already knows.

"Your heat," he says, nostrils flaring as he breathes in my changing scent. His chest expands with a deep breath, and I watch transfixed as the tribal markings stretch and shift across his muscles. "It's starting early. Responding to my presence."

Horror and excitement war within me. Heat cycles were mild annoyances before the Conquest, but since the Primes arrived, they've become biological imperatives impossible to ignore. And without suppressants...

"I can't—" I start to protest, but another wave of heat washes through me, stealing my words. My inner walls clench around nothing, a profound emptiness forming in my core that demands to be filled.

"It's been building," Kazuul says, his voice dropping lower, rougher. The sound seems to vibrate the very air between us. "Your body has been denied for two months. The loss disrupted your cycle, but now your omega biology is reasserting itself."

He stands suddenly, towering over me. The movement wafts his scent toward me—now changing too, growing muskier, more dominant. Hints of brimstone and heated earth emerge, signaling his rut beginning to answer my heat. His golden eyes have taken on a slight glow in the dim chamber.

"Your heat is triggering my rut," he says, muscles rippling across his chest as he struggles for control. A faint shimmer of scales appears along his shoulders – an oni trait that emerges only during heightened emotional states. "I should go. Let you decide if this is what you truly want."

The thought of him leaving sends panic racing through me. My hand shoots out, grabbing his wrist. His skin burns against mine, hotter than human-normal. The contrast of my pale fingers against his deep crimson skin creates a visual reminder of our fundamental differences, yet my omega instincts scream that we belong together.

"Stay," I manage, shocked by my own desperation. "Please."

A rumbling growl builds in his chest, so deep I feel it through my hand on his wrist. "Are you certain, little omega? Once this begins, I won't be able to stop. My control isn't what it usually is during rut."

Another wave of heat crashes through me, making me whimper. Slick trickles down my inner thighs now, my core clenching around nothing in desperate need. My scent thickens with omega pheromones designed to entice an alpha, to signal my fertility and readiness.

"I'm sure," I gasp, beyond pride or calculation. "I need you, alpha."

Something flashes in his eyes at the title—possessiveness, triumph, tenderness—too complex to name. With a fluid motion belying his enormous size, he tears my nightdress from collar to hem, leaving me bare before him.

"Beautiful," he rumbles, golden eyes traveling down my body. The cool air makes my nipples tighten into aching points, but I don't try to cover myself. His gaze feels like a physical touch, leaving heat in its wake. "Mine."

The word sends another rush of slick between my thighs. My omega instincts respond to his alpha claim with eager submission, my body preparing itself for him in ways my mind still struggles to accept.

His pants hit the floor next, revealing his massive cock already fully erect. The crimson length stands proud against his abdomen, thicker than my wrist and ridged along its impressive length. The vibrating nodule at its base pulses visibly, responding to my heat-scent. A bead of pre-fluid gathers at the tip, evidence of his arousal.

"Look what you do to me," he says, wrapping one massive hand around himself. The size difference is striking – his hand barely encircles his own girth. "Already so hard for you, little omega."

I can't look away. Even after all this time, the sheer size of him remains intimidating. Yet my body craves him, inner walls clenching with need, slick gathering in humiliating abundance. My heat drives me past embarrassment, past reservations, into pure biological want.

He approaches the bed slowly, each step deliberate, predatory. The floorboards creak beneath his weight. "Tell me what you want."

"You," I admit, omega biology overwhelming whatever pride I have left. "I want you, alpha."

A satisfied rumble builds in his chest as he joins me on the bed. The mattress dips dramatically beneath his weight as he positions himself between my thighs. His hands slide under my hips, tilting them upward as he lowers his head.

"First, I'm going to taste you," he growls, hot breath fanning across my exposed sex. "Going to make you come on my tongue before I fill you with my cock."

Before I can process his words, his mouth is on me. The first swipe of his tongue—hotter than human-normal, slightly rougher texture—tears a cry from my throat. My hands fly to his horns, gripping the smooth curves as my back arches off the bed. The polished surfaces are warm beneath my fingers, smooth yet unyielding.

"So sweet," he murmurs against me, tongue delving deeper. His hands keep me firmly in place as I try to squirm away from the overwhelming sensation. "Sweeter during heat. Made to drive me wild."

His tongue is longer than a human's, able to reach places inside me that make stars explode behind my eyelids. When he seals his mouth over my clit and sucks, I scream, pleasure crashing through me in waves I can't control. My thighs tremble against his massive shoulders.

"That's it," he encourages, working a massive finger inside me as his tongue continues its assault on my clit. "Let me hear how much you need this."

A second finger joins the first, stretching me in preparation for his much larger cock. The burn feels good, right, my body yielding to him with eager hunger. When his fingers curl upward, finding that spot deep inside that makes me see stars, I come apart.

"Alpha!" I cry out, hips bucking against his face as pleasure whites out my vision. My inner muscles clamp down around his fingers, trying to pull them deeper.

He works me through the orgasm, gentling his touch as the aftershocks ripple through me. When he finally raises his head, his chin gleams with my slick, his golden eyes glowing with primal satisfaction.

"So responsive," he purrs, withdrawing his fingers. "But that was just the beginning."

He rises above me, massive body blocking out the light. One hand braces beside my head while the other guides his enormous cock to my entrance. The blunt head presses against me, hot and insistent.

"Look at me," he commands, and I force my eyes open to meet his golden gaze. The vertical pupils have contracted to thin slits, focusing on me with predatory intensity. "I want to see your face when I claim you."

He pushes forward slowly, the enormous head of his cock stretching me with exquisite care. The burn is familiar now, my body recognizing its alpha and yielding to him even as my breath catches at the impossible fullness.

"So tight," he groans, muscles in his neck straining with the effort of restraint. The tribal markings along his throat pulse with his racing heartbeat. "Even after everything, you're still so tight around me."

Inch by excruciating inch, he works himself deeper, each ridge along his length dragging against my sensitive inner walls. I watch with fascinated horror as my abdomen visibly distends, the outline of his massive cock visible beneath my skin as he reshapes me from the inside out.

When he's finally seated to the hilt, his cockhead pressing against my cervix and creating a prominent bulge just below my navel, he pauses. We both breathe heavily, adjusting to the overwhelming connection.

"Mine," he growls, one massive hand splaying possessively across the bulge in my abdomen. The contrast between his crimson fingers and my pale skin is striking. "Made to take me. Made to carry my young."

The words send a fresh rush of slick around his invading length, my omega biology responding eagerly to the breeding talk. "Yours," I agree, beyond denying it.

He begins to move, withdrawing almost completely before sliding back in with measured control. Each thrust sends sparks of pleasure racing up my spine, the ridges along his shaft stimulating nerves I didn't know existed before him.

Then the vibrating nodule at the base of his cock makes contact with my clit, and I scream. The sensation is overwhelming—the fullness inside, the vibration without, the heat of him above me. My hands clutch at his massive forearms, nails digging into crimson skin that's too tough to mark.

"That's it," he encourages, setting a rhythm that builds the pleasure higher with each thrust. "Take what your alpha gives you."

Another wave of heat crashes through my core, intensifying every sensation. My skin feels hypersensitive, every brush of his body against mine sending electric tingles racing across nerve endings. This is different from regular claiming—heat makes everything sharper, more intense, more desperate.

"Your cunt is squeezing me so tight," he growls, pace increasing as his own control frays. Scales shimmer across his shoulders, spreading down his arms as his rut strengthens. "Trying to milk the seed from me already."

His crude words should offend me, but they only drive my arousal higher. I find myself meeting his thrusts, hips lifting to take him deeper.

"Please," I whimper, a familiar pressure building in my core. "Alpha, please."

"Come for me again," he commands, adjusting his angle to hit that perfect spot deep inside while the vibrating nodule maintains relentless pressure against my clit. "Show me how much you need me."

The orgasm hits with brutal force, inner walls clamping down around his massive length as pleasure explodes through every nerve ending. I cry out his name, back arching, hands clutching desperately at his arms.

He slows but doesn't stop, working me through the climax with deep, measured thrusts. As the aftershocks begin to fade, he leans down to nip at my earlobe.

"We're just getting started," he promises, voice rough with need. "Going to make you come again and again before I fill you with my seed."

With surprising gentleness, he withdraws completely. The sudden emptiness makes me whimper in protest, my body clenching around nothing.

"Turn over," he commands, eyes glowing brighter now as his rut strengthens its hold. "Present for your alpha."

Heat floods my face, but my body moves on instinct, turning to my hands and knees. The position is primal, submissive—the traditional presentation posture for a claimed omega. I arch my back, head lowered, exposing myself completely to his gaze.

His growl of approval rumbles through the chamber. "Perfect," he says, massive hands gripping my hips. His thumbs press into the dimples at the base of my spine. "This is how omegas were meant to be bred."

The blunt head of his cock presses against my entrance again, the new angle allowing for deeper penetration. With one powerful thrust, he seats himself completely, forcing a cry from my lips as he reaches impossibly deeper than before.

"Feel that?" he growls, grinding against me so I can feel every ridge and vein of his massive length. His hips press against my ass, the heat of his body warming my skin. "Feel how perfectly you take me? You were made for this—made to be filled with my cock, bred with my seed."

He establishes a punishing rhythm, each thrust driving me forward until I have to brace against the headboard to keep from being shoved across the bed. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the chamber, punctuated by my gasps and his rumbling growls.

"Say it," he demands, one hand tangling in my hair to pull my head back in a display of dominance that makes my inner walls clench with shameful excitement. The slight pain of my scalp tingling sends a surprising jolt of pleasure straight to my core. "Tell me what you want, omega."

"Your seed," I gasp, heat overwhelming any remaining resistance. My claiming mark pulses at my neck, hypersensitive and yearning for his bite to renew it. "Want you to fill me. Breed me. Make me yours again."

My admission drives him into a frenzy. His pace increases, hips snapping against mine with bruising force. I feel the vibrating nodule change its pattern against my clit, pulsing in time with his thrusts, sending me hurtling toward another peak.

"Going to pump you so full," he snarls, his voice deeper, rougher as his rut takes stronger hold. The scales have spread across his back now, catching the firelight. "Going to flood your womb with my seed until it takes root. Watch you grow round with my child again."

The explicit breeding talk pushes me over the edge. My third orgasm tears through me with such intensity that tears spring to my eyes, pleasure bordering on pain as my body convulses around his massive length.

"That's it," he praises, never slowing. "Squeeze my cock just like that. Milk every drop of seed from me."

Just as the aftershocks begin to fade, he withdraws again. Before I can protest, he flips me onto my back and lifts my legs over his shoulders, bending me nearly in half as he positions himself at my entrance once more. The display of strength is effortless, a reminder of the power difference between us.

"Want to see your face when I knot you," he explains, pushing back inside with a single powerful thrust that steals my breath. His eyes glow with intensity in the dim room. "Want to watch your eyes when you feel my seed flooding your womb."

The new position allows him to reach even deeper, his cockhead pressing directly against my cervix with each thrust. The slight pain mingles with pleasure, creating a confused cocktail of sensation that has me gasping his name.

"Alpha," I whimper, overwhelmed by the fullness, the heat, the relentless pleasure. The position makes me feel completely vulnerable, completely at his mercy. "Too much. I can't?—"

"You can," he insists, never slowing. One hand splays across my lower abdomen, feeling himself move within me. "Your body was made for this. Made to take everything I give you."

His massive hand slides between us, thumb pressing against my clit to join the vibrating nodule's stimulation. The dual sensation is overwhelming, pleasure building to impossible heights as he drives into me with single-minded determination.

"Going to fill you up," he promises, voice strained as his own control slips. Sweat glistens on his crimson skin, the firelight catching on the beads of moisture. "Going to breed you properly this time. No more holding back."

I realize with sudden clarity that he had been holding back before. Despite the brutality of our first claiming, despite the countless times he's taken me since, he's been restraining himself. Now, with both of us consenting, with rut and heat driving us toward the same goal, he's finally unleashing his full oni nature.

"Yes," I hear myself beg, beyond shame or pride. My hands clutch at his arms, feeling the scales there catch against my palms. "Breed me, alpha. Make me yours completely."

Something snaps in his eyes—the last thread of his control breaking. With a roar that rattles the stone walls, he drives into me with renewed vigor, his pace becoming brutal, relentless. The bed frame creaks alarmingly beneath us, and I briefly wonder if it might collapse under the onslaught.

I feel it then—the beginning of his knot forming at the base of his massive cock. Each thrust forces the swelling knot against my entrance, stretching me wider with each pass. The pressure is both terrifying and exhilarating.

"Take it," he commands, golden eyes boring into mine as the knot grows larger. His face is transformed by rut, features sharper, more predatory. "Take my knot, little omega."

With one final, powerful thrust, he forces the knot past my entrance. The stretch burns exquisitely, pain and pleasure so intertwined I can't separate them anymore. My body yields to him, accepting the impossible intrusion as the knot expands to full size inside me, locking us together completely.

The pressure against my inner walls combined with the relentless vibration against my clit triggers a fourth orgasm so intense I nearly black out. Stars explode behind my eyes as pleasure crashes through me in merciless waves, tears streaming down my face as I sob his name.

His release follows immediately, cock pulsing as he floods me with burning seed. The quantity is overwhelming—oni produce far more than human males—filling me so completely that my lower belly visibly distends with it. The knot keeps everything sealed inside, exactly where it needs to be to take root.

"Mine," he roars, the sound primal and possessive. His hand splays over my distended abdomen, feeling the evidence of his claim. His seed burns hotter than human-normal, a warmth I can feel spreading through my core. "Filled with my seed. Going to grow round with my child."

We remain locked together by biology, his knot ensuring his seed stays exactly where he's placed it. With careful movements, he adjusts our position so we're lying on our sides, my back to his chest, his massive body curled protectively around mine. His warmth envelops me, chasing away the chill I've carried for weeks.

His hand never leaves my belly, stroking possessively over the slight bulge where his seed fills me completely.

"So perfect," he murmurs against my neck, pressing gentle kisses along my pulse. The tenderness contrasts sharply with the brutality of moments before. His breath is hot against my skin, sending pleasant shivers down my spine. "My beautiful omega."

I should feel used, should feel violated by the claiming. But as the knot pulses inside me, keeping us joined, all I feel is a strange sense of rightness. My hand covers his on my belly, our fingers intertwining.

"If it happens again," he says quietly, his voice a gentle rumble against my back, "if we create new life..."

"Then it will be our choice," I finish for him, understanding flowing between us. "Not just conquest. Not just biology. Something we decided together."

His arms tighten around me, pulling me more firmly against his massive chest. The knot will keep us joined for at least an hour, biology ensuring the best chance for conception. But unlike that first brutal claiming months ago, this connection carries meaning beyond mere possession.

* * *

Dawn light filters through the high windows, painting the chamber in soft gold. I've lost count of how many times Kazuul has claimed me through the night as my heat and his rut drove us beyond exhaustion. My body aches deliciously, marked with evidence of his possession—finger-shaped bruises on my hips, bite marks along my shoulders and breasts, my thighs sticky with the combined evidence of our pleasure.

He stands by the window now, his massive form silhouetted against the morning light. The tribal markings across his crimson skin seem to glow in the dawn, recording victories and bloodlines in patterns I'm slowly learning to read. The scales that emerged during the height of his rut have receded, leaving his skin smooth once more.

I should feel embarrassed by my behavior through the night—the begging, the submission, the shameless way I yielded to him again and again. But heat has burned away pretense, leaving only raw truth behind. Within these walls, away from politics and position, we've found something unexpected.

"Come here," he says, turning from the window. His golden eyes still glow faintly, his rut not yet fully satisfied despite claiming me repeatedly through the night.

I rise from the bed on shaky legs, my body both exhausted and somehow still hungry for more. He watches my approach with predatory focus, nostrils flaring as he scents the evidence of our mating clinging to my skin. His seed marks me inside and out, a claiming more thorough than any collar or brand.

When I reach him, he lifts me easily, turning to press my back against the cold glass of the window. The contrast between the icy window and his burning skin makes me gasp, nipples tightening to painful points as they brush against his chest.

"One more time," he growls, positioning himself at my entrance. "Let the sun see what belongs to me."

He enters me in a single thrust, the way eased by so many previous claimings. I'm stretched and sore, yet my body welcomes him eagerly, inner walls clinging to his massive length as he establishes a rhythm more measured than the frenzy of night.

"You were made for this," he murmurs, one hand supporting my weight while the other cups my face with surprising tenderness. His thumb traces my lower lip, and I find myself turning to kiss it instinctively. "Made to take me. Made to carry my young. But more than that—made to stand beside me."

The admission stops my breath. This is new—acknowledgment of something beyond biological function, beyond the roles assigned by conquest and claiming. A partnership I never expected when I first entered his fortress.

"Yes," I agree, arms wrapping around his neck as he claims me against the window. Anyone looking up from the courtyard would see us silhouetted against the glass, would witness the warlord claiming his omega in the light of day.

The thought should humiliate me, but instead, it drives my arousal higher. Let them see. Let them all know that I've chosen this, that what began as forced claiming has evolved into something neither of us expected.

His pace increases, each thrust lifting me slightly against the window. The vibrating nodule finds my clit with unerring accuracy, sending familiar pleasure spiraling through my core. My claiming mark pulses with each thrust, the scar tissue hypersensitive under the morning light.

"Going to fill you again," he promises, voice rough with need. One hand grips my thigh, supporting my weight effortlessly. "Going to make sure my seed takes root this time."

One final, powerful thrust seats him completely inside me as his release begins, flooding me with heat. The knot swells, locking us together, keeping everything sealed inside where it belongs. The pressure triggers my own climax, gentler than the explosive peaks of night but no less satisfying.

We remain joined, my legs wrapped around his waist, his forehead pressed against mine as we breathe each other's air. The intimacy of the moment strikes me more powerfully than any claiming—this shared breath, this willing connection.

"If it happens again," he whispers against my lips, echoing his words from the night before. "If we create new life..."

"Then it will be ours," I finish, the word encompassing everything. "Our child. Our choice. Our future."

His knot will release eventually, the biological lock dissolving as it's served its purpose. My heat will fade in another day or two, his rut subsiding with it. We'll return to our roles—warlord and strategic advisor, alpha and omega, conqueror and claimed.

But something fundamental has shifted between us, something neither fortress walls nor conquest law can contain or define. Within the constraints that bind us, we've found something unexpected—a partnership neither of us anticipated when claiming ceremony first established our connection.

For now, I rest in his arms, my small body encompassed by his massive one, and accept the paradox we've become—captive and captor, omega and alpha, partners by choice within a world that gave us none.