Page 79 of Run Little Omega

The revelation sends a chill down my spine that has nothing to do with the morning air. "Is that why you claimed me exclusively? Why you're killing any alpha who approaches me?"

"Partly." His honesty surprises me. "I recognized something in your scent at the Gathering Circle—a compatibility stronger than court-arranged pairings. When I claimed you beneath that ancient blackthorn, the magic that awakened confirmed what I suspected."

"And the courts don't want this. This... revival."

"They're terrified of it." His smile is sharp with satisfaction. "Seven centuries of careful control, of diminishing bloodlines and weakening magic, threatened by a copper-haired blacksmith with defiance in her eyes."

A twig snaps in the distance—too deliberate to be animal, too subtle for careless movement. We both freeze, instantly alert to potential threat. Through our claiming bond, I feel Cadeyrn's predatory focus narrowing, his body tensing for violence.

"Stay behind me," he murmurs, frost gathering around his clenched fists.

I ignore the command, drawing the bone knife Lira gave me. We stand back-to-back, scanning the treeline for approach. The silver bracelet pulses against my wrist, sensing danger in a way that transcends normal perception.

"I come alone and unarmed," calls a low voice from the shadows. "May I approach without having my throat torn out?"

The figure that steps into our small clearing makes me inhale sharply. He's clearly fae in his otherworldly beauty—tall and powerful with perfect symmetry to his features—but something about him seems almost... human. His eyes shift between normal fae appearance and an animal-like reflective quality as he surveys our makeshift camp, and his movements combine predatory grace with practical caution.

"The Hound," Cadeyrn says, recognition rather than greeting in his voice.

"Prince Cadeyrn." The newcomer inclines his head, the gesture containing just enough deference to acknowledge rank without suggesting submission. His gaze shifts to me, curiosity evident. "And the copper-haired omega who's turned the Hunt upside down. I've heard much about you."

"Wish I could say the same," I reply, not lowering my knife.

His laugh is surprisingly warm, with none of the cold mockery I've come to expect from fae nobility. "Fair enough. Most omegas are too busy running to exchange pleasantries." He gestures to our small fire pit from the night before. "May I?"

Cadeyrn gives a slight nod, though I feel tension coiling through him. The claiming bond transmits his readiness to attack if this visitor makes one wrong move.

The Hound settles across from us, movements deliberate and unthreatening. Up close, the contradictions in his appearance become more apparent—fae beauty tempered by something almost human in his expressions.

"You're not pure fae," I observe, curiosity briefly overriding caution.

"No." His smile carries a hint of pride. "Born to a human omega during a Hunt three cycles ago. In the forest itself, not in the fae courts."

The revelation surprises me. While I'd heard whispered stories of omegas who survived giving birth to fae children under the careful watch of court physicians, I'd never encountered anyone born during the Hunt itself, outside the controlled environment of fae medical chambers. "She survived wilderness birth? How?—"

"A story for another time," he interrupts gently. "I haven't come to discuss my lineage, fascinating though it might be."

"Why have you come?" Cadeyrn asks, voice carrying the chill of his court despite the heat his body radiates.

The Hound's expression sobers. "To deliver information. And a warning." He leans forward, firelight catching the unusual flecks of gold in his otherwise fae-green eyes. "The courts are in crisis over what's happening here."

I feel Cadeyrn stiffen beside me, though his face reveals nothing. "Explain."

"Your transformation has not gone unnoticed, Your Highness." The Hound's voice drops lower. "Seven centuries of perfect control, and suddenly you're tearing through alpha challengers like tissue paper. The courts are... concerned."

"Let them be concerned," Cadeyrn dismisses, but I notice his hand flexing slightly—a tell I've learned means he's more affected than he lets on.

"It's more serious than that." The Hound's gaze shifts to me. "Alphas who normally compete are forming alliances against you both. The typical Hunt politics are suspended in favor of a more unified response to what they're calling an 'unprecedented threat.'"

My stomach drops. "They're hunting us specifically."

He nods. "Multiple hunting parties, coordinated across courts. Summer and Spring have already combined forces—a historic first. Autumn is considering joining them."

"And Winter Court?" Cadeyrn asks, surprising me with the hint of genuine concern in his voice.

The Hound's expression turns grim. "Fracturing into factions. Some remain loyal to you, but others see opportunity in your... distraction." His gaze flicks between us meaningfully. "Lord Varen's disappearance has created a power vacuum that several ambitious nobles are eager to fill."

I think of Lord Varen, frozen into a grotesque sculpture as warning to others who might approach what Cadeyrn considers his exclusive territory. The memory brings a complex mix of fear and satisfaction—I've been taught all my life that claimed omegas are transported to the fae courts for birthing under their physicians' care, the only way to survive delivering a fae child. Yet The Hound's very existence challenges everything I thought I knew. The Winter Prince has made enemies not just in other courts, but within his own.

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