Page 5 of Shadow's Claim

"Precautions against escape attempts," he explains, gesturing toward the windowless walls pulsing with living shadow-matter. The darkness itself seems alive, flowing in patterns that make my vision blur when I try to focus on them. "The room responds only to shadow demon control."

I scan for exits despite knowing there won't be any obvious ones. The chamber is circular, walls seamless, ceiling lost in darkness overhead. A massive platform dominates the center—not quite a bed, not quite an examination table. Its purpose requires no explanation.

My finger brushes the silver pendant at my throat, now warm against my skin. The emergency dose of suppressants has activated, but it feels pitifully inadequate against what's happening to my body. Heat symptoms accelerate, skin hypersensitive even to the fabric of my uniform.

"Your little device is transmitting," Kael says, one shadow tendril wrapping around the pendant. His eyes narrow with something like satisfaction. "Good. When your resistance friends attempt rescue, they'll join you in captivity."

My breath catches. He's using me as bait.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I respond, voice steadier than I feel. "I'm a certified translator?—"

"You've maintained your deception for nearly three years," he interrupts, studying me with clinical interest. "Most unregistered omegas are discovered within months. Your specialized suppressants contain military-grade components that haven't been manufactured since before the Conquest."

Four arms work independently—one removing my identification cards for inspection, another activating a shadowy interface on the wall, the third holding my communications device, while the fourth produces a small device I recognize with dread. A biochemical scanner, designed to detect and analyze pheromone patterns.

"They're slowly poisoning you," he continues, holding the scanner near my throat where the pendant rests. "Your liver function shows irregularities. Your hormonal patterns indicate systemic damage that will become permanent without intervention."

"Better than the alternative," I snap before I can stop myself.

His head tilts slightly, those swirling purple eyes reassessing me. "You believe death preferable to claiming?"

Something in his tone suggests this isn't merely interrogation—there's genuine curiosity beneath the predatory focus.

"I believe choice preferable to captivity," I reply, straightening my spine despite the growing heat beneath my skin.

Something shifts in those swirling purple eyes—not softening, but recalculating. "Choice," he repeats, testing the word as though it's an alien concept. "An interesting perspective from a species that chose destruction over adaptation."

Before I can respond to this wildly revisionist history of the Conquest, he activates my communications device, examining the encrypted interface with disturbing efficiency.

"Resistance technology," he observes, all four hands working in coordination. Two hold me immobile against the wall while the others manipulate the device and scanner simultaneously. "The punishment for sedition is death. The penalty for omega registration evasion is permanent assignment to breeding facilities."

He leans closer, his face inches from mine. "Unless claimed directly by a Prime alpha who chooses to take responsibility."

The options laid before me create a cocktail of terror more potent than any suppressed heat. Death. Breeding facility. Or personal claiming by the Shadow Dominion's most feared enforcer. A menu of horrors with no acceptable choices.

"Your resistance connections will be extracted," he continues, voice deceptively calm as he guides me toward the central platform. "The process can be relatively painless or excruciating, depending on your cooperation."

I resist, but it's futile—like fighting against an ocean current. His four arms could easily crush me, yet he uses only enough force to demonstrate the complete control he possesses. The platform itself comes alive as he approaches, shadow-matter flowing up to create restraints more effective than any physical bonds.

When I still struggle, shadow tendrils extend from his body, wrapping around my wrists and ankles. They're neither solid nor gas—something in between that feels cold against my increasingly warm skin. Their touch sends unwelcome jolts through my nervous system, making the heat symptoms intensify despite the pendant's chemical intervention.

"Your body has initiated pre-heat," Kael states, the scanner displaying data only he can interpret. "Without chemical interference, full heat biology will manifest within hours. Your resistance connections will be significantly easier to extract during heat vulnerability."

The clinical assessment chills me more than any threat. He's going to wait until my own biology betrays every secret I've fought to protect. Until heat-madness makes me beg to reveal everything just for the relief of alpha claiming.

With terrifying gentleness, he removes the pendant from my neck, examining it with analytical precision. Rather than destroying it, he places it carefully on a surface beyond my view.

"The signal will be more useful active," he explains. "Your resistance contacts will reveal themselves when they attempt rescue."

His absolute confidence sends ice through my veins despite the growing heat. No one escapes Lord Kael Nightshadow. The stories whispered in resistance safe houses all confirm this truth.

The shadow tendrils guide me onto the central platform, securing my limbs with unbreakable shadow-matter bonds. The surface beneath me feels neither warm nor cold—just solid enough to support my weight while remaining slightly yielding, like memory foam made from darkness itself.

"Your mind resists," Kael observes, his massive form looming over me, "but your biology acknowledges truth. Omegas require proper claiming for optimal function. The chemicals merely delayed inevitable submission."

"Nothing is inevitable," I say through gritted teeth, fighting the rising fog in my mind as pre-heat intensifies. "Humans have choice. Free will. Concepts your kind seem incapable of understanding."

My defiance seems to intrigue rather than anger him. His head tilts again, studying me with renewed interest.

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