His arms tighten. "Maybe it's the only kind worth having. And maybe... maybe we can make it less broken over time."
"By giving me choice?" I ask.
"By giving you choice," he confirms. "The preservation magic will still exist between us. But from now on, it asks instead of takes. You decide what moments become part of our shared archive."
The promise settles between us like a vow. It's not freedom—I'm still bound to him, still changed in ways I can't undo. But it's agency. It's the acknowledgment that even in captivity, I deserve some measure of control over my own existence.
The bond hums between us, no longer dormant, no longer killing me. We're mated again, completely and irrevocably. But this time, we both know what that means.
It's not freedom. But it's not just captivity either.
It's something more complex, more real than either of us expected.
And maybe that's enough.
CHAPTER 23
ARATUS
DAY 59
I waketo her scent flooding my senses—not just heat this time, but something richer. Satisfaction. Contentment. The scent of an omega thoroughly claimed and finally at peace with what she is.
My omega.
Both my cocks respond instantly, hardening against her thigh where she's still tucked against me. We've been locked together twice more since that first brutal claiming, and the bond thrums with renewed strength between us. Not the dying connection that drove her back to me, but something vibrant and evolving.
She shifts in her sleep, unconsciously pressing closer to my cold skin. The preservation magic I loosened yesterday whispers at the edges of my consciousness, asking if I want to archive this moment. The sight of her finally peaceful in my arms, her body marked by my claiming, her scent declaring her mine to anyone with senses to detect it.
I let the magic record it. Not forcing documentation, but choosing to preserve this. Our first morning where she's herebecause she wants to be, not because biology gave her no other option.
"Stop watching me sleep, creeper," she murmurs without opening her eyes.
I can't help the smile that tugs at my lips. "How did you know?"
"I can feel you through the bond." She finally opens her eyes, and they're clear despite the lingering heat I can smell building in her system. "You're thinking very loud thoughts."
"What am I thinking?"
"That you can't believe I'm still here." She reaches up to trace my jaw. "That you're terrified I'll change my mind and run again."
The accuracy of her read makes me catch her hand, pressing a kiss to her palm. "The bond makes me transparent to you now."
"Only because you're letting it." Her fingers stroke through my hair. "The preservation magic—it's different. Softer. I can feel you choosing what to share instead of taking everything."
"Does it bother you? That I'm still archiving moments?"
She considers this, her heat-hazed eyes thoughtful. "No. Because now it feels like... memories we're creating together. Not evidence you're collecting against me."
The distinction settles something in my chest. This is what I've been working toward since yesterday—transforming the bond from ownership into partnership while maintaining the structure we both need.
"Your heat's building again," I observe, feeling it through our connection.
"I know." She stretches languorously, displaying her body with unconscious confidence that makes my cocks pulse. "But it's different this time. I'm not desperate. I'm just... wanting."
"There's a significant difference between those states."
"Huge difference." She rolls onto her back, spreads her thighs in clear invitation. "One is biology controlling me. The other is me choosing what I want."
