The preservation magic was supposed to be a gift—making every pleasure last longer, every sensation more intense. Instead, it's ensured she can never forget what she became in my arms. Never forgive herself for wanting it so desperately.
And now, seeing the full scope of what I've done, neither can I.
For six centuries, I've been waiting for the perfect omega. Someone strong enough to match me, fiery enough to challenge me, broken enough to need what I could give.
I found her. Claimed her. Made her mine in every way that matters.
And in doing so, destroyed everything that made her worth having in the first place.
The palace knows it too. Through the crystal walls, I can see ice sculptures that once danced in celebration of her presence now standing frozen in poses of mourning. They reflect theemptiness where her spirit used to be, the hollow victory of a treasure destroyed in the taking.
Even the magic recognizes what I've lost.
The bond pulses between us, carrying her anguish like a constant wound. Every moment she suffers, I feel it too—not enough to truly understand her pain, but enough to know that I've created something monstrous.
I wanted to break her. I succeeded completely.
I just never considered what I'd be left with once she was broken.
CHAPTER 15
ELISE POV
DAYS 36-39
The first thingI test is how far my leash extends.
Day thirty-six, I wake up with his preservation magic burning every moment of my claiming into my mind like fresh brands. The memories assault me the moment consciousness returns—how I begged for his cocks with tears streaming down my face, how perfect I felt when he knotted me the first time, how grateful I was when he marked me as his with that final bite.
Six separate claimings. Six times I surrendered completely, thanked him for using me, cried out in pleasure as he filled me with his seed. Each memory is crystal clear, preserved in agonizing detail by magic designed to ensure I never forget what I became in his arms.
The shame makes me want to crawl under the bed and hide from the world. But underneath it is something worse: the bone-deep knowledge that despite my conscious horror, my body still thrums with satisfaction from our bonding. The omega in me is content, sated, perfectly happy to have been claimed so thoroughly.
And the most terrifying part is that some traitorous part of me knows I'd do it all again if he commanded it. Not because I have to—but because the alternative would feel like dying slowly.
So I test my prison.
I dress carefully in the clothes he's provided—silk and velvet that mark me as a treasured possession rather than a prisoner. The frost patterns on my skin catch the morning light, beautiful and damning. In the mirror, I look like a creature made of winter itself, barely human anymore.
The palace responds to my presence differently now. Where once the halls seemed neutral, now they hum with welcome. Ice sculptures turn to follow my movements with approval. The very walls pulse with warmth when I pass, recognizing me as the claimed omega of their master.
Even the building knows what I've become.
The palace doors open easily when I approach them. No locks, no barriers, nothing to prevent me from walking out into the snow-covered courtyard. For a moment, hope flickers in my chest like a candle in winter wind. Maybe the claiming wasn't as complete as I thought. Maybe I can still escape this frozen hell.
But I've only taken three steps outside when I feel it—a strange tugging sensation in my chest, like an invisible cord attached to my heart.
Five steps, and the tugging becomes uncomfortable pressure.
Ten steps from the entrance, and pain starts in my chest. Dull but insistent, like something vital is being stretched too far. The bond recognizes that I'm moving away from my alpha and begins to protest.
Fifteen steps, and it becomes sharp agony, stealing my breath and making my vision blur. My transformed body wasn't designed to exist apart from him—the claiming has tied us together in ways that go deeper than physical.
Twenty steps, and I'm on my knees in the snow, gasping as the bond tears through me like someone's ripping my heart out through my ribs. The pain is excruciating, a constant reminder that I belong to someone else now. That my very existence depends on his proximity.
I crawl back to the palace doors on hands and knees, sobbing with more than just physical pain. The agony fades the moment I cross the threshold, replaced by the warm contentment that comes from being where I belong.
"Satisfied?" Aratus asks from the shadows of the great hall, and I hate how his voice makes the ache in my chest ease slightly.
