Page 7 of Warlord’s Prize

"Your complete submission as my claimed omega." His gaze drops to my throat. "Not temporarily. Permanently."

The chamber spins. Permanent claiming. Permanent ownership. Everything I've fought against since the Conquest.

But my community will survive.

"I accept," I say, my voice steadier than I feel. "On one condition. I remain involved in Haven Valley's governance. I need to know my people are truly protected."

Kazuul's lips pull back, revealing teeth sharper than a human's. "You presume to make conditions?" He leans closer, his massive size making me feel like prey about to be devoured. "But your strategic mind might prove useful. This is acceptable, within limits I will define."

Relief floods me, followed by dread as I grasp what I've agreed to.

Then comes his final condition.

"The claiming must happen immediately," he declares. "Before witnesses."

My blood turns to ice. "Witnesses?"

"Oni officials have already gathered in the central courtyard." The satisfaction in his tone confirms he anticipated this outcome from the moment I entered his fortress. "Your status must be established beyond question. Publicly."

Horror washes over me. Not just claiming—public claiming. My body on display, my submission witnessed, my most intimate surrender made spectacle.

"That's not necessary," I protest. "I've agreed to your terms."

"It is precisely necessary." He grabs my hand, engulfing it completely in his massive grip. His claws prick my skin in warning. He pulls me toward the doors, which swing open at our approach. "Your people will know exactly why they eat this winter. And exactly what you've surrendered to feed them."

The corridor stretches before us. Each step feels like moving through quicksand.

My suppressed omega biology now rages fully awake. Fabric against my skin feels like sandpaper. The ache in my core grows with each step. Slick soaks through my undergarments, my body preparing despite my mind's rejection.

We pass oni guards who watch with predatory interest. Their nostrils flare as they scent my emerging heat. None approach what is clearly their warlord's claim, but several make crude gestures when they think I'm not looking.

A guard bows deeply as we pass. Another mutters something in the harsh oni language that makes Kazuul laugh—a cruel sound that sends ice through my veins.

"The terms of our agreement," I say, desperate to focus on something besides my body's betrayal. "Will they be formalized?"

"Your concern for detail even now is remarkable." His eyes narrow, assessing. "Yes, they will be recorded and witnessed, just as the claiming will be. Every. Detail. Of it."

The emphasis he places on those final words makes clear his intention—the claiming will be witnessed in explicit totality.

We round a corner and nearly collide with a servant carrying linens. She flattens herself against the wall, eyes downcast. I notice the thin collar around her neck—not an omega, but a beta servant marked as property. Fresh bruises mottle her arms; someone's been rough with her.

As we near the courtyard, voices reach my ears—dozens of them. The claiming won't be witnessed by a few officials, but a crowd.

I dig in my heels. "Wait." Fear finally overtakes calculation. "Please, not like this."

Kazuul stops, turning to face me. His massive frame blocks the corridor, cutting off retreat. His expression hardens.

"Your heat accelerates," he observes, voice lowered but no less threatening. He inhales deeply. "I can smell it growing stronger by the minute. Soon you'll beg for what you now dread. The claiming will happen regardless—this way, it serves purpose beyond mere biology."

Another wave of heat pulses through me, making my knees weak. The suppressants aren't just failing—they're breaking down completely. Years of chemical control dissolving in hours.

"I can't," I whisper, though I'm no longer sure what I'm refusing.

"You already have." He tugs me forward roughly, nearly pulling me off my feet.

We step through the archway into blinding sunlight. I blink rapidly as my vision adjusts.

The courtyard stretches before us, surrounded by rising tiers of stone seating. In the center sits a raised platform covered in furs, marked with swirling ritual symbols. Dozens of oni officials and warriors create a wall of crimson and black flesh. Some wear elaborate decorations marking their status; others display battle scars proudly.

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