Page 50 of Warlord’s Prize

He's barely dressed—just loose black pants riding low on his hips, his massive crimson chest bare. The tribal markings etched into his skin seem to shift in the firelight, living shadows that tell stories of battles won and enemies defeated. The patterns follow the defined muscles of his torso, accentuating the inhuman power contained in his massive frame.

"Your scent has changed," he says, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. This is new. Since claiming me, he's always summoned me to his quarters. The reversal feels significant, as though some invisible barrier has been crossed.

My hand instinctively presses against my stomach. "The healers say I'm fully recovered."

"Physically," he agrees, moving closer. The temperature in the room seems to rise with each step he takes, his oni body radiating heat that my human senses can detect from several feet away.

The mattress dips dramatically when he sits beside me, his weight pulling me toward him until our thighs nearly touch. The heat radiating from his body makes my skin prickle with awareness, a trail of goosebumps rising despite the warmth.

"The loss changes nothing regarding your position," he says, formal words at odds with the way his massive hand reaches for mine. His four fingers are bigger than my entire hand, yet he handles me with a delicacy that still surprises me. "But everything regarding approach to potential future offspring."

My breath catches in my throat. "What do you mean?"

"The healers believe conception remains possible." His thumb traces circles on my palm, the slightly rough texture of his skin creating electrifying friction against mine. "If you wish it."

IfIwish it.

"You're asking my permission?" The question comes out barely above a whisper.

"Yes." One simple word that changes everything between us.

I should think strategically. Should consider what this means for Haven Valley, for my position, for potential leverage in the future. Instead, I find myself leaning toward him, drawn by something beyond rational thought.

"Yes," I whisper, the word feeling momentous. "I want to try again."

The air between us shifts instantly. His scent thickens, becoming headier, more potent. His pupils dilate until the gold of his eyes is just a thin ring around bottomless black. The temperature around him spikes, his crimson skin almost seeming to glow with internal heat.

"Omega," he growls, the single word vibrating through me like a physical touch.

As if in response, a wave of heat crashes through my core, spreading outward until my skin feels too tight. Slick gathers between my thighs, soaking through my silk nightdress. My claiming mark at the junction of my neck and shoulder pulses with heightened sensitivity.

"What's happening?" I gasp, though some primal part of me already knows.

"Your heat," he says, nostrils flaring as he breathes in my changing scent. His chest expands with a deep breath, and I watch transfixed as the tribal markings stretch and shift across his muscles. "It's starting early. Responding to my presence."

Horror and excitement war within me. Heat cycles were mild annoyances before the Conquest, but since the Primes arrived, they've become biological imperatives impossible to ignore. And without suppressants...

"I can't—" I start to protest, but another wave of heat washes through me, stealing my words. My inner walls clench around nothing, a profound emptiness forming in my core that demands to be filled.

"It's been building," Kazuul says, his voice dropping lower, rougher. The sound seems to vibrate the very air between us. "Your body has been denied for two months. The loss disrupted your cycle, but now your omega biology is reasserting itself."

He stands suddenly, towering over me. The movement wafts his scent toward me—now changing too, growing muskier, more dominant. Hints of brimstone and heated earth emerge, signaling his rut beginning to answer my heat. His golden eyes have taken on a slight glow in the dim chamber.

"Your heat is triggering my rut," he says, muscles rippling across his chest as he struggles for control. A faint shimmer of scales appears along his shoulders – an oni trait that emerges only during heightened emotional states. "I should go. Let you decide if this is what you truly want."

The thought of him leaving sends panic racing through me. My hand shoots out, grabbing his wrist. His skin burns against mine, hotter than human-normal. The contrast of my pale fingers against his deep crimson skin creates a visual reminder of our fundamental differences, yet my omega instincts scream that we belong together.

"Stay," I manage, shocked by my own desperation. "Please."

A rumbling growl builds in his chest, so deep I feel it through my hand on his wrist. "Are you certain, little omega? Once this begins, I won't be able to stop. My control isn't what it usually is during rut."

Another wave of heat crashes through me, making me whimper. Slick trickles down my inner thighs now, my core clenching around nothing in desperate need. My scent thickens with omega pheromones designed to entice an alpha, to signal my fertility and readiness.

"I'm sure," I gasp, beyond pride or calculation. "I need you, alpha."

Something flashes in his eyes at the title—possessiveness, triumph, tenderness—too complex to name. With a fluid motion belying his enormous size, he tears my nightdress from collar to hem, leaving me bare before him.

"Beautiful," he rumbles, golden eyes traveling down my body. The cool air makes my nipples tighten into aching points, but I don't try to cover myself. His gaze feels like a physical touch, leaving heat in its wake. "Mine."

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