Page 9

CHAPTER 9

FAILED ESCAPE

Three weeks into my captivity, and I've memorized everything—guard rotations, servant schedules, even which floorboards creak when stepped on. My military training didn't go to waste after all.

Tonight, the stars align in my favor. An administrative error—some mix-up in the guard rotation schedule—leaves the eastern corridor temporarily unguarded during shift change. It's the opportunity I've been waiting for, the crack in their seemingly perfect system.

I slip from my chambers, heart pounding so hard I worry the sound alone might give me away. The silken garments Kazuul insists I wear make no sound as I move through the darkness. At least they're good for something.

The massive stone corridors feel different at night—more threatening, more alien. Torches flicker at distant intervals, leaving long stretches of shadow between pools of orange light. The stone beneath my bare feet radiates cold that seeps into my bones, a sharp contrast to the perpetual heat of Kazuul's chambers. Perfect for hiding. Terrible for seeing what might be hiding with you.

I press myself against the wall at a junction, counting my breaths as I listen for movement. One... two... three... The coast seems clear.

Every shadow makes me freeze. Every distant sound sends ice through my veins. Oni have senses so much sharper than humans—they can smell fear, hear heartbeats, see in near darkness. My own scent betrays me with each anxious breath, and I know any passing guard would detect it instantly. If any oni spots me, it's over.

But I have to try. Haven Valley feels like a distant dream now, my leadership there belonging to another lifetime. Yet my people still depend on me, even if they don't know it. If I stay here, I'll eventually become exactly what Kazuul wants—a willing breeding vessel, strategic advisor, claimed omega with no will beyond pleasing her alpha.

The thought makes me move faster.

I navigate through service corridors, paths I've carefully observed during my limited movements through the fortress. These passages see little use during night hours—servants sleep, and oni warriors prefer the main halls where their massive frames aren't cramped by narrow walls.

My muscles cramp with tension as I slink past storerooms and servants' quarters. The air grows cooler, carrying hints of outside—fresh earth, night air, freedom. I'm getting closer.

A distant doorway appears at the end of a long corridor—one that I believe leads to the outer courtyard. From there, the wall is still an obstacle, but I've spent hours watching from my window, planning possible routes. My heartbeat quickens, the taste of copper filling my mouth as hope rises.

Hope rises in my chest, making me careless. I move faster, freedom so close I can almost taste it on the night breeze.

That's when a massive figure steps from the shadows with disturbing silence, blocking my path completely. My heart plummets through the floor.

Commander Thorne's bright orange skin seems to glow in the dim torchlight, his single broken horn casting a jagged shadow across the wall. How someone so large can move so quietly defies logic. His leaner build shifts with predatory grace, the muscle beneath his orange hide rippling as he adjusts his stance. It's a stark reminder that before oni were conquerors, they were hunters.

"The warlord's prize seems lost," he observes, voice deceptively casual despite the tension evident in his stance. His vertical pupils constrict to thin slits as they focus on me, glowing faintly in the darkness. "Or perhaps seeking something beyond her permitted boundaries."

My mind races through options—none of them good. Fight? Laughable against his oni strength. Talk my way out? Perhaps claim insomnia led me wandering? The excuse sounds pathetic even in my head.

I choose the third option—run.

I spin on my heel, lunging back the way I came, but I've barely taken two steps before Thorne's hand clamps around my upper arm. His grip is firm but controlled—less overwhelmingly powerful than Kazuul's, but no less effective at stopping me. His claws prick against my skin in warning. He doesn't even seem winded by my attempted escape.

"Predictable," he says, something like disappointment coloring his tone. "I expected more creativity from the strategic advisor."

He marches me back through the fortress, his hand firmly securing my arm. My mind races, waiting for the alarm, the public announcement, the gathering of oni officials to witness my punishment. Conquest Law has specific protocols for attempted escape—none of them pleasant.

Yet Thorne raises no alarm. Makes no announcement. Instead, he leads me directly toward Kazuul's private chambers, his grip never loosening.

"Why aren't you alerting the guards?" I ask, unable to contain my confusion.

Thorne's single-horned profile remains impassive, his jaw set in a hard line. "The Warlord's instructions were specific."

My stomach drops, a cold wave of realization washing over me. "He knew?"

Thorne doesn't answer, but the slight curl of his lip tells me everything. This wasn't a fortunate opportunity—it was a test. One I've spectacularly failed.

The massive doors to Kazuul's chambers loom before us, carved with battle scenes that seem to move in the flickering torchlight. Thorne doesn't bother knocking before pushing them open.

Kazuul stands beside the window, his massive frame silhouetted against the night sky. The moonlight catches on his horns and the scales along his shoulders, casting strange shadows across his crimson skin. He doesn't turn immediately, which somehow makes his presence more intimidating. When he finally faces us, his expression shows no rage, no shouting—just calculated calm that chills me more than any display of anger.

"I expected this attempt," he informs me, massive arms crossing over a chest broader than two men standing side by side. The tribal markings across his crimson skin seem to shift in the dim light, recording victories I cannot read. "Though I anticipated you would wait until establishing greater trust before betraying it."

Thorne releases my arm and steps back, his duty complete.

"Leave us," Kazuul commands, and Thorne exits without a word, closing the massive doors behind him with a soft thud that feels like a prison gate closing.

Alone with the warlord, I struggle to keep my face neutral. Whatever punishment comes, I won't give him the satisfaction of seeing my fear.

"What now?" I ask, lifting my chin defiantly. "Public punishment? Execution?"

Kazuul approaches slowly, each step deliberate. The floor vibrates slightly beneath my feet with each footfall, a reminder of his sheer size and weight. "Neither would serve my purposes."

He circles me once, appraising, the heat of his massive body radiating against my skin even from several feet away. I can scent him—that distinctive blend of smoke and metal that once repulsed me but now triggers something deep and primal in my omega biology. Then he grasps my shoulders, steering me inexorably toward the massive sleeping platform that dominates one side of his chambers.

My body betrays me immediately, responding to his touch with shameful eagerness. Slick gathers between my thighs, my pulse quickening as his scent surrounds me.

"Your punishment will fit your specific crime," he says, voice rumbling through me like distant thunder.

What follows is nothing like the violent retribution I expected. Instead, Kazuul implements a form of torture precisely calibrated to my greatest weakness.

"Strip," he commands, voice low and dangerous.

My fingers tremble as I remove the silken garments, the fabric slipping from my skin with a whisper. The cool air raises goosebumps across my exposed flesh. His golden eyes track every movement, pupils contracting to predatory slits as my body is revealed inch by inch.

When I stand naked before him, he circles me slowly, massive frame radiating heat that makes my skin flush despite my fear. Without warning, his hand presses between my shoulder blades, bending me forward over the edge of his enormous bed.

"Spread your legs," he orders.

I comply, hating how automatically my body responds to his commands now. The position leaves me obscenely exposed, vulnerable in a way that makes my stomach clench with humiliation. The furs beneath my palms feel soft, a cruel contrast to the hardness of what's to come.

The first touch of his massive hands on my hips sends an electric jolt through my core. My traitor body responds instantly—slick gathering between my thighs without my permission. I can feel it trickling down my inner thigh, the scent of my arousal filling the air between us.

"Your body knows who it belongs to," he rumbles, one finger tracing the wetness with deliberate slowness. "Even when your mind rebels."

I bite my lip to keep from responding, but a small whimper escapes when his finger brushes across my entrance. Three weeks of regular claiming has conditioned my body to expect what comes next—the stretch, the fullness, the vibration that brings guaranteed pleasure.

The blunt head of his massive cock presses against me, impossibly large yet somehow fitting where once I thought it never could. He enters me with excruciating slowness, each inch of his enormous length stretching me open in a burning slide that walks the knife's edge between pain and pleasure.

"Feel how perfectly you take me," he growls, hands gripping my hips as he seats himself fully inside. The visible bulge in my lower abdomen proves how deeply he's claimed me, his cock reaching places inside no human ever could.

I gasp as he withdraws almost completely before thrusting back in with deliberate force. The impact jolts me forward, breasts swinging with the momentum. Another thrust, harder this time, drives the air from my lungs in a choked sound that's not quite pleasure, not quite protest.

"You thought you could escape this?" He punctuates the question with another powerful thrust that makes the bed frame creak beneath us. "Escape me?"

My body clenches around him involuntarily, inner walls gripping his invading length as though afraid he might withdraw completely. It's the first sign of what's to come—my body betraying my mind's desire for freedom.

Then I feel it—the first touch of the vibrating nodule against my clit. The specialized organ unique to Bloodcrest oni males begins its familiar hum, sending waves of pleasure radiating outward from that single point of contact. My back arches instinctively, pushing back against him to increase the pressure.

But just as the pleasure begins to build, he shifts his angle, removing the contact. The sudden absence makes me whimper, my hips chasing the sensation that's suddenly gone.

"Is this what you wanted to escape?" he asks, voice deceptively gentle as he thrusts again, this time allowing the briefest contact of the vibrating nodule against my sensitive bud before withdrawing it once more.

"No," I gasp, unsure if I'm denying his words or begging for the contact to return.

"Liar." His voice holds no anger, only certainty. Another thrust brings the vibration back, slightly longer this time, building the tension higher before disappearing again.

"This is what happens when you reject what belongs to you," he growls, watching me arch beneath him as the vibration retreats once more. "The pleasure you've grown dependent on becomes its own punishment."

Each thrust follows the same torturous pattern—deep penetration that fills me completely, a brief moment of vibration against my clit that sends pleasure spiraling through my core, then a deliberate shift that removes the stimulation just as my body begins to climb toward release.

Then without warning, he pulls out completely. The sudden emptiness makes me cry out in distress, my body clenching around nothing.

"What's wrong, omega?" he asks, his massive frame looming over me from behind. "Isn't this what you wanted? To be free of me?"

I shake my head against the furs, unable to form words as my body screams for him to return. The cool air against my exposed, slick-covered entrance feels like torture after the heat of him.

He waits, letting me feel the emptiness, the lack. Seconds stretch into what feels like minutes. Just when I think I might break and beg him to return, he thrusts back in with a single powerful stroke that tears a grateful sob from my throat.

The vibrating nodule touches my clit, building pleasure quickly, bringing me right to the edge of orgasm—and then he withdraws completely again.

"No!" I cry out, the word escaping before I can stop it.

"No what?" he asks, one clawed finger tracing the curve of my spine. "Be specific, little omega."

"Don't stop," I whisper, shame burning through me at my own weakness.

"Don't stop what?" He continues stroking my back, deliberately avoiding where I need him most. "You'll have to tell me exactly what you want."

Sweat beads across my skin, trickling down my spine as the endless teasing continues. My thighs quiver with strain, every muscle taut with desperate need. The emptiness between my legs feels unbearable now, my body trained through weeks of conditioning to expect fullness and pleasure that only he can provide.

"Please," I hear myself whisper, the word slipping out before I can stop it. My voice sounds strange to my own ears—breathless, needy, broken.

His golden eyes gleam with satisfaction. "Please what, little omega?"

"I need you... inside me," I force out, each word costing me a piece of my pride.

"Like this?" he asks, pushing just the tip of his massive cock inside me before withdrawing again.

I sob in frustration, tears beginning to stream down my face. "More. Please."

"How much more?" The cruelty of his question is belied by the gentleness of his hands as they trace patterns on my skin.

"All of you," I gasp, abandoning dignity in the face of overwhelming need.

"Say exactly what you want," he demands, the head of his cock teasing my entrance without pushing in. "What part of me do you need?"

"Your cock," I whisper, the words bitter and sweet simultaneously on my tongue. "I need your cock inside me."

He rewards me with a single deep thrust that fills me completely, the vibrating nodule pressing briefly against my clit—but only for a moment before he withdraws entirely again, leaving me sobbing.

"And what else?" he prompts, watching my body tremble with need.

"The vibration," I choke out, shocked at my own admission. "I need the vibration."

He enters me again, this time allowing the nodule to press against my clit for ten glorious seconds, building the pleasure to an almost unbearable peak—before pulling out completely once more.

The almost-orgasm that slips away makes me cry out in genuine distress, tears now flowing freely down my face. My entire body shakes uncontrollably, coherent thought dissolving under the onslaught of denial after denial.

"Is there something else you need to be satisfied?" he asks, voice rumbling with dark amusement.

I know what he wants. The final admission. Complete surrender.

"Your knot," I sob, the words barely audible through my tears. "I need your knot."

"And who am I?" he asks, hand tangling in my hair to pull my head back. "Say it."

"Alpha," I whisper, the forbidden word slipping out easily now, all resistance burned away.

His hand tightens in my hair. "Louder."

"Alpha," I repeat, voice breaking on the syllables.

"Tell me who you belong to," he growls, the head of his cock teasing my entrance again.

"You," I gasp, dignity forgotten. "I belong to you, alpha."

"Beg for it," he commands, offering no relief. "Beg for what only I can give you."

"Please," I sob openly now, beyond shame, beyond pride. "Please claim me, alpha. Please fill me with your cock. I need your knot, your vibration. I need you to make me come. Please, alpha, please."

Each desperate plea tears another piece of my resistance away, leaving me raw and exposed. The omega in me has completely overwhelmed any remaining dignity, biological imperative drowning out the strategic leader I once was.

"Mine," he rumbles, the word vibrating through his massive chest as he finally pushes back into me with a powerful thrust.

This time, there's no teasing. His massive cock fills me completely, the vibrating nodule making continuous contact with my desperate clit. Each thrust drives the pleasure higher, the stimulation no longer teasing but relentless.

"Alpha, please," I sob, the words a desperate litany. "Please, please, please don't stop."

His rhythm increases, the vibrating nodule never breaking contact now. The pleasure builds with frightening intensity, each thrust driving me higher until I'm balanced on a knife's edge of sensation so acute it borders on pain.

"You'll never try to escape me again," he growls, not a question but a statement of fact. "Say it."

"Never," I gasp between sobs of pleasure. "Never escape. Yours, alpha. Always yours."

"Come for me, omega," he commands, voice rumbling through me like thunder.

The orgasm hits with such overwhelming intensity that my vision goes white. Wave after wave of pleasure crashes through me, inner walls convulsing around his massive length in rhythmic pulses that seem endless. I scream until my voice breaks, the release I've been denied for so long proving too much for conscious thought to withstand.

Just as the first orgasm begins to ebb, his knot begins to swell, stretching me further in a burning fullness that triggers a second climax even more powerful than the first. The dual sensation—his knot locking inside me while the vibrating nodule continues its relentless stimulation—proves too much. Consciousness slips away entirely, my mind unable to process pleasure of such magnitude.

I come back to awareness slowly, feeling strangely hollow yet still full. Kazuul remains inside me, his knot locked firmly in place, ensuring his seed stays where he's placed it. My thighs are sticky with slick, muscles trembling with aftershocks of pleasure so intense it bordered on pain.

His massive hand splays possessively across my abdomen, the heat of his palm burning against my skin.

"Next escape attempt will result in consequences for your community rather than merely yourself," he informs me, voice deceptively gentle despite the threat. "Consider that in your future calculations."

The words hit harder than any physical punishment could. My body I can risk—but Haven Valley? The people who depend on me? I can't gamble with their safety.

As I lie there, still joined to him by biology and circumstance, the most disturbing realization settles over me. This punishment revealed a vulnerability my strategic mind failed to calculate adequately—my growing physical addiction to the pleasure his unique anatomy provides.

My body's dependency on his vibrating nodule has become a control mechanism as effective as any physical restraint. The proof lies in my begging, in my surrender, in my calling him alpha in a moment of desperation.

He doesn't need chains to keep me captive. He has something far more effective—my own treacherous body, rewired to crave what only he can provide.

I close my eyes against sudden tears, refusing to let him see this final defeat. But I know with cold certainty that my failed escape has cost me more than just freedom. It's revealed the true extent of my captivity—one that exists within my own flesh.