"The Vine Court is already making moves. Prince Thorian has identified his target—a botanist's daughter with latent power."
"Will he be as careful as Kaelen was? As thorough as you were?"
"He'll be what his omega needs him to be," I say simply. "That's what the prophecy demands—not identical approaches, but successful outcomes."
She shifts in my arms, already growing heavier with the children who will inherit both our powers. "And if the humans resist more forcefully next time?"
"Then we'll adapt. The bonds must be formed, Elise. The alternative is chaos for both our worlds."
It's not a comfortable truth, but it's truth nonetheless. The magic that holds reality together requires these connections, these bridges between species. Individual happiness is secondary to collective survival.
"I know," she whispers. "I just hope the other women are as fortunate as I was. As we were."
Fortunate. An interesting word for a relationship that began with systematic coercion and advanced through magical compulsion. But looking at what we've built from those brutal foundations, I suppose fortune is relative.
In the morning, we'll continue the work of ruling together, of preparing for our children, of managing the political complexities our bond has created. The prophecy demands seven more successful claimings, and each one will be more difficult as human resistance grows.
But tonight, I'm content to hold my pregnant queen and feel our children moving beneath my hand. The future we're creating won't be easy or comfortable or morally simple.
But it will be real. And for beings like us, reality is more valuable than righteousness.
CHAPTER 26
ELISE
DAY 155
(Three monthspregnant)
The morning sickness has finally passed, but what's replaced it is infinitely more consuming.
I wake tangled in silk sheets, my skin burning despite the ice-cold air of our chambers. Every nerve ending feels exposed, hypersensitive to the slide of fabric against my body, to the warmth radiating from Aratus's sleeping form beside me. My breasts are heavy and tender, my nipples so sensitive that even the whisper of silk makes me gasp.
And between my legs, I'm already wet.
It's been like this for weeks now—this constant, aching arousal that pregnancy has awakened in my omega biology. The healers call it normal, a natural intensification of bonding instincts designed to keep an alpha close during the vulnerable months of carrying his young. But knowing the science doesn't make it easier to bear.
I shift carefully, trying not to wake him, but even that small movement sends liquid heat pooling between my thighs. My scent has changed too, grown richer and more intoxicating inways that make Aratus's eyes go dark with hunger whenever he catches it. The smell of omega carrying alpha's children—fertile, claimed, thoroughly bred.
The thought sends another wave of arousal through me, and I bite back a whimper.
"Awake already?" His voice is rough with sleep, but I can hear the edge of awareness creeping in. He always knows when I'm aroused now, can sense it through our bond before I'm even fully conscious of it myself.
"Can't sleep," I whisper, not trusting my voice to stay steady.
"The dreams again?"
I nod, though 'dreams' hardly covers what I experience when unconsciousness takes me. Vivid fantasies of him taking me in every position imaginable, of being bred over and over until I'm heavy with his children, of surrendering so completely that nothing exists except his cocks inside me and the overwhelming need to please my alpha.
Dreams that leave me writhing against the sheets, desperate for his touch.
His hand slides across my hip, fingers trailing over the slight curve of my belly where our twins are growing. The touch is gentle, reverent, but it sends lightning through my sensitized nerves.
"They're changing you," he murmurs, pressing his palm flat against the small swell. "Making you more... responsive."
"Is that what you call it?" I can't keep the breathless need out of my voice. Three months pregnant, and I want him more desperately than I did during my first heat. "Responsive?"
"Addicted," he corrects, his voice dropping to that dark rumble that makes my pussy clench. "To my touch. My cocks. My seed growing inside you."
