Dear Cousin, You Will Have My Baby

Soren’s POV

"You chose humans over your own blood. Tell me, dear cousin…How should traitors die?"

Veyron held up my chin, his grip easy, almost gentle. The blood trickling from the corner of my lip caught his eye, and he slipped,  just for a second, like he always did around me. His tongue almost moved.

Almost.

"I am still your blood, Veyron." The words came out smaller than I intended.

Laughter broke through the hall.  Someone clapped. Someone whistled. Someone called me pathetic.

Of course they did. The Varek Greyborn were known for their ruthlessness; to think I was blood-related to most of these bastards made my skin crawl.

“You stopped being family the moment you chose them over me, Soren,” he spat, as if my name tasted like poison.

My rebel-labelled team had been slaughtered barely a minute ago. Their blood was still warm where it crept toward my knees. I was the last one standing, if kneeling counted. I had watched every single one of them die, and now in this moment, when all hope was gone, one voice still rang in my ears.

“Please don't let them hurt our families.”

My closest confidant, choking on blood after his windpipe was crushed. As if he'd known I would be the last one left. Everyone knew Veyron never left room for mistakes; he wiped out all traitors down to their bloodline. No room for revenge. He was that ruthless.

I looked up into those dark eyes. Empty, still,  but even in that void I saw it. A spark. Small and buried and entirely for me.

"Veyron, please leave their families out of it this time, they had nothing to do with our plan,” it didn't come out as the demand I needed. It came out cracked down the middle.

The tears followed before I could stop them. Greyborn warriors don’t cry, but I couldn't hold it anymore.

I grabbed his collar, throwing caution to the wind. Gasps rippled through the room. It didn’t matter if this man could squish me like a bug.

"I will do anything." My voice dropped to something I didn't recognize. "Kill me later. Break every bone in my body…Own me.”

Jamie laughed. "Oh this keeps getting better."

I ignored him. "Use me. Make me your breeding slave… Just don’t touch them."

The laughter that followed was worse than silence.

"Did everyone hear that?" Jamie's voice cut through the crowd, bright with amusement he wasn't trying to hide. "The defective omega just volunteered to get bred."

Everyone laughed with him like I was the funniest thing in the world. As for Jamie, his reaction was nothing new. He had always hated me. It must have been the best day of his life.

More voices piled on. I ignored every single one and kept my eyes on Veyron.

He hadn't moved, hadn't pushed me away.

That was enough.

"You've bred with dominant omegas." I held his gaze, steadied my voice, made it something harder than what I felt. "None conceived .” That finally got Veyron’s attention even though he remained silent. “You are the first Samana Alpha in centuries, Veyron. Maybe perfection isn’t what your perfect blood needs. Maybe it needs me.”

"I’ve heard desperation but never this pathetic." Jamie again, somewhere behind me, his voice losing some of its earlier amusement.

Veyron rose to his feet.

He was always tall. Standing over me like this, he was something else, a wall, a verdict, something you didn't argue with so much as survive.

"You're right about one thing." He went quiet. The voice he used when he had already decided something and was simply waiting for everyone else to catch up. "I have never taken a recessive omega." His head tilted. "Convince me, dear cousin. Why you?"

"Because you haven’t tried me," I lifted my chin. "Pack law gives first claim to the one who proposes the solution. I’m proposing it. That right is mine."

Something sharp moved across his face.

"Pack rules." The words came out slow, almost thoughtful, before his voice cracked through the hall like a whip. "Pack law also says traitors die. Funny how you remembered one rule and forgot the other."  The room went still. Every breath held. "I should kill you, Soren. I should fucking kill you."

Silence.

Jamie's smile vanished. No one laughed now. Even the guards looked at the floor.

Then—

Then a long exhale left him and his shoulders dropped a fraction of an inch.

"But you saved my life once." His voice was almost quiet enough to be private. "Unfortunately for you… I always repay my debts no matter how much time has passed."

Shock moved through the room like a wave. I felt it more than I showed.  I couldn't believe what I was hearing, and I couldn't find the memory he was referencing, not a single moment in all our years together that I could point to and call that.

I opened my mouth to speak, but he was faster.

He came back down to my level. Close enough that I could see the exact stillness of his expression, the hunger to control.

"Don't celebrate yet, darling cousin." His thumb moved to the corner of my lip, wiping the blood away slowly. Then he brought it to his mouth. And tasted it. “You’re mistaking mercy for kindness.” 

He held eye contact while he did it, unbothered by the room full of men watching every second. "Six months." He straightened. "That’s how long you have to get pregnant. Or I’ll bury you first. If you don't…" his smile widened.“...everyone you begged for will face the same fate. Go on rabbit, choose your hell.”

My heart stopped completely.

Dominant omegas, fertile, blessed, built for exactly this, had failed him. My chances weren't just slim. They were a joke. But this was all I had. The only door still open in a room that was closing fast. Even if it meant a chance of warning them, giving them a head start, it was a risk I was willing to take. I caused this by thinking it wise to go against a tyrant loved by his people.

I swallowed. “…I accept."

"Good."

He caught my jaw. I barely had time to inhale. Then his mouth was on mine. Rough, possessive and cruel. Like he was marking me so everyone could see that he owns me.

When he pulled away, he smiled. “Don’t make me regret sparing you.”

That was how it began.

I told myself I was buying time. I told myself I had seen the spark in his eyes and used it like a tool, and that tools don't consume the person holding them.

I didn't know about the obsession. I didn't know about the madness. I didn't know that Veyron Draske didn't just keep power, or territory, or fear.

He kept everything he decided was his. Somewhere between sentencing me and kissing me… Veyron decided I belong to him. I just hadn’t realized it yet.