Page 55 of Warlord’s Prize

Time slows to a crawl as the assassin approaches. Kazuul struggles beneath me, his massive body fighting against the paralytic with everything he has. I can feel him straining, muscles locking then releasing as he battles the toxin. Heat pours from him in waves, his body temperature spiking as he fights for control. But it's not enough. Won't be enough.

My gaze falls on the small table beside our bed. The drawer stands slightly ajar, revealing the glint of metal within. Kazuul's personal blade—the one he keeps for protection but never imagines I know about. I discovered it weeks ago while searching for something to ease my grief after the miscarriage.

In this moment, everything crystallizes. Five years fighting against oni rule. Five years hiding my omega nature. Five years leading Haven Valley in quiet resistance. All of it flashes before me as the assassin takes another step closer, blade raised. The choices that led me here, the path that brought me from resistance leader to the warlord's claimed omega.

I make my choice.

With a movement too quick for the assassins to anticipate, I reach for the drawer, fingers closing around the hilt of Kazuul's blade. The weapon feels strange in my hand—designed for his massive grip, not my human fingers—but my body remembers the training from years before the Conquest. The weight is unfamiliar but not unmanageable.

The assassin lunges for me, but he's not expecting resistance from a claimed omega. My military academy training floods back, muscle memory taking over as I twist to avoid his strike. The movement is awkward with Kazuul's knot still locking us together, but desperation gives me flexibility I didn't know I possessed.

His blade grazes my shoulder, drawing a thin line of fire across my skin. The cut burns more than it should—poison, most likely. I barely notice the pain. In one fluid motion, I drive Kazuul's blade upward, finding the gap beneath the assassin's ribs where death waits. The resistance trained me well for this, though I never imagined using those skills to protect an oni warlord.

Blood sprays across the bed as I yank the blade free. It's hot against my skin, copper-scented and visceral. The assassin's eyes widen in shock as he stumbles backward, hands clutching uselessly at the mortal wound. His mouth opens but only a gurgling sound emerges as blood fills his lungs.

The second assassin recovers from his surprise, charging toward us with a roar of rage. But he's focused on me, forgetting the warlord who, despite the paralytic, isn't completely helpless. His mistake proves fatal.

With a tremendous effort born of desperation, Kazuul manages to move one massive arm, sweeping the assassin off his feet. The man crashes into the stone wall with bone-crushing force, momentarily stunned. The impact echoes through the chamber, dust raining down from the ceiling.

It gives me the opening I need. I lunge forward despite the awkward position, Kazuul's knot still locking us together, and drive the blade into the second assassin's throat. Blood fountains from the wound, painting the stone walls crimson as he struggles briefly before going still. The warmth of it splashes across my face and chest, mingling with sweat and the remnants of passion.

Silence falls over the chamber, broken only by our ragged breathing. I stare at my bloodied hands, at the bodies on the floor, at the crimson spray across the bed linens. The scent of copper fills the air, mixing with the lingering traces of the paralytic and our interrupted mating.

"Emi," Kazuul manages, his voice strained as he fights against the toxin's effects. His golden eyes focus on me with effort, concern evident despite the paralysis affecting his facial muscles. "Are you hurt?"

I shake my head, unable to form words. Something fundamental has shifted inside me. I just killed two men to protect the oni warlord who claimed me against my will. Killed to protect the child that might be growing inside me. Killed to defend what once represented my captivity but has somehow become my choice.

The blade falls from my fingers, clattering against the stone floor. Blood drips from my hands onto Kazuul's crimson chest, indistinguishable from his natural coloring except for its metallic scent and viscous texture.

Kazuul's hand finds mine, massive fingers engulfing my bloodied ones with surprising gentleness despite the paralytic still affecting him. His palm radiates warmth that steadies me, grounds me in the aftermath of violence.

"You saved us," he says, golden eyes holding mine with an intensity that steals my breath. The vertical pupils focus on me with effort, fighting against the toxin's effects. "You could have let them kill me. Could have taken your freedom."

The truth of his words hits me like a physical blow. I could have. Part of me—the resistance fighter, the leader of Haven Valley—should have. Their attack was the perfect opportunity to escape, to return to my former life. Yet I didn't hesitate to defend him, to protect what we've created together.

"I made my choice," I whisper, the weight of those words settling over me like a mantle. Not just the choice to save him, but everything that choice represents. The final transformation from captive to partner, from resistance fighter to protector of the very power I once fought against.

The blood drying on my skin feels like a visible manifestation of this loyalty shift, marking me as surely as Kazuul's claiming bite. I am no longer the woman who came to the Crimson Fortress seeking food for her people. No longer simply the warlord's prize.

I have become something new—something neither resistance principles nor oni tradition prepared me to navigate.

As the paralytic begins to fade from Kazuul's system, his arms tighten around me, protective even in weakness. His golden eyes never leave mine, filled with something that might, in a human, be called wonder.

"Mine," he says softly, the word carrying new meaning after what just happened. No longer just a declaration of ownership, but an acknowledgment of chosen connection. "As I am yours."

The blood of imperial assassins cools on the stone floor as we remain joined, the danger passed but its implications just beginning. I have crossed a line I can never uncross, made a choice that changes everything. The metallic scent of death mingles with the lingering musk of our interrupted claiming, creating a potent reminder of the decision I've made.

And strangest of all, I don't regret it. In a world that took all my choices away, this one—this violent, bloody, irrevocable choice—was entirely mine. There's a strange freedom in that realization, even as it binds me more tightly to the oni warlord whose knot still locks us together in the most primal connection possible.

Tomorrow will bring questions, investigations, heightened security. But for now, as Kazuul's breathing steadies and his muscles gradually regain function, I allow myself to acknowledge the truth.

I chose him. I chose us. And I would do it again.

CHAPTER23

MARKED AND BOUND

Blood still crustsunder my fingernails three days after the assassination attempt. No matter how much I scrub, traces remain—rust-colored reminders of the lives I took to protect Kazuul. To protect us. I've tried everything from harsh soaps to wire brushes, but the blood seems determined to stay, like it's become part of me now.

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