Page 59 of Run Little Omega

Lord Varen finally turns, one hand still restraining me as he faces his prince. “You have an… unbecoming attachment to this omega. It’s getting in the way of discovery. Let me claim her, so we can see how the cillae respond to a secondary alpha’s claim.”

Cadeyrn doesn't respond with words. Instead, he makes a subtle gesture with his fingers, frost trailing in the air where they pass, and the stream bed beneath Lord Varen splinters. Ice erupts from the fractures, growing with unnatural speed to encase the elder alpha's legs.

“Release her," Cadeyrn commands, each syllable visible as frozen vapor.

For one terrifying heartbeat, Lord Varen tightens his grip, and I fear he'll drag me down with him into the frigid waters. Then, after a long moment, he steps back, releasing me completely. The ice holding me prisoner shatters, water rushing downstream like nothing happened.

I scramble backward, finding purchase on slippery stones to haul myself toward the bank. Lord Varen remains perfectly still as ice climbs steadily up his body, his eyes narrowing as he stares up at Cadeyrn’s furious expression.

“You’re deviating strongly from court protocol," he says as ice reaches his waist. “Something about this magic… it’s Wild Magic. From before our courts were divided by seasons.”

"Your observational skills remain impressive," Cadeyrn replies, stepping onto the surface of the stream, which solidifies beneath his feet. “But you shouldn’t have touched my omega.”

What follows is methodical and brutal.

The Winter Prince doesn't just kill Lord Varen—he goes further than that in his clearly enraged state. The ice penetrates him, freezing from within, crawling across his body like it’s alive. I watch in horrified fascination as blue veins turn white then transparent beneath his skin, blood crystallizing in delicate fractal patterns that spread upward from his legs toward vital organs.

Throughout this terrible demonstration, Cadeyrn's gaze repeatedly finds mine, something fierce and possessive burning in those black eyes. He wants—needs—me to witness this. To understand what will happen to anyone who dares touch what he considers his.

When the ice reaches Lord Varen's heart, the elder alpha doesn't scream or plead. He simply takes a final breath and holds it as his heart freezes mid-beat, his chest ripping open with a sound like shattering crystal.

Only when Lord Varen has been completely transformed into a grotesque ice sculpture, made of torn flesh, dripping blood, and exposed bone, does Cadeyrn approach to circle his creation with predatory grace. He strides into the water and studies it from every angle with a smile on his face, adjusting the stance just so, making sure that Varen’s frozen face stares outward.

When he's satisfied, Cadeyrn places his palm against the ice-covered chest, murmuring words that skid painfully across my eardrums. Cillae like my own emerge across the corpse's surface and spread across the water, so that the stream flows on either side of the corpse—but leaves it exactly where it is, a warning and a promise all in one.

I finally gather enough sense to move, grabbing my discarded clothing from the bank and pulling it on with trembling fingers. I should be running while Cadeyrn is distracted. Instead, I find myself unable to look away at the savage horror of what he’s done.

This is far, far more than just rutting.

When he finally turns to face me, his expression has shifted from blind rage to something more controlled but no less intense. "I allowed that to happen," he says.

"What?" I clutch the torn clothing around myself.

"I felt him touch you through our bond," Cadeyrn continues, approaching me with predatory calm as he lifts himself out of the stream. "I permitted him to approach that closely to teach you a necessary lesson."

Outrage flares through me, hot enough to temporarily override my fear. "You let him nearly rape me as a fucking lesson?"

"I was never going to let it get that far.” His certainty is infuriating, absolute. "But you needed to understand what awaits unclaimed omegas in this forest."

"I am claimed," I snarl, jabbing a finger toward the bite mark on my neck. "Your mark is everywhere on me."

"And yet you bathed away my scent," he counters, closing the distance between us. "Naked. Exposed. Washing away my seed while your heat still simmers beneath the surface."

"So this is my fault?" I gesture toward the grotesque ice sculpture. "He dies because I dared to clean myself?"

"He dies because he tried to touch what is mine. Because he disobeyed me,” Cadeyrn crowds me against a tree, rough bark pressing into my back as he looms over me. "As you seem determined to do."

His body radiates cold that somehow burns wherever it passes close to mine, the contrast disorienting—heat and ice, terror and fascination, revulsion and unwilling attraction all warring within me. He growls, “You forget that you belong to me.”

"I haven't forgotten anything," I say, lifting my chin in defiance. “Especially that this claiming was coerced."

Something flickers in his eyes—anger, certainly, but beneath it, something that might almost be pain. "Coerced? Your body welcomed me so eagerly I thought you'd perish from need if I didn't claim you."

Heat floods my cheeks at the memory, at the humiliating truth beneath his words. My body had betrayed me utterly in that moonlit clearing, omega biology overriding every shred of self-preservation and dignity.

"That wasn't me," I insist, though the excuse sounds hollow even to my ears. "That was heat-madness and Hunt magic."

"Itwasyou." His hand rises, not touching but hovering near my face, close enough that I feel the cool energy emanating from his skin. "The authentic you, beneath all your careful defenses. The omega who recognized her alpha and responded exactly as nature designed."

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