Page 41 of Dragon's Captive

"You mean lie," I say flatly.

His eyes snap back to mine, something fierce flashing in golden depths. "Is it a lie, Clara? After everything that's happened between us? Would public declaration of acceptance be false testimony or merely acknowledging what already exists?"

The question cuts too close to truths I've avoided confronting. What exactly exists between us now? Not simple captivity, not mere biological imperative, not stockholm syndrome in its purest form. Something more complex, something that defies easy categorization or comfortable labels.

"I don't know," I admit, the confession feeling like surrender of a different sort. "I don't know what this is anymore."

His massive hand cups my face with surprising gentleness, scales warm against my skin. "Then perhaps it's time to decide. Because Vorthrax will not wait for us to define what exists between us, and the Council requires certainty, not nuance."

The truth in his words doesn't make the choice any easier. My gaze drifts to the window, where snow has begun falling again, thick flakes swirling in hypnotic patterns against leadensky. Drake's Peak—once my prison, now my sanctuary against greater threats. The irony would be hilarious if it weren't so terrifying.

"When?" I ask, the single word containing multitudes of resignation and determination.

"One week," he answers. "The Council convenes at the Neutral Zone in seven days."

The Neutral Zone. I've heard whispers of it—a designated territory near what used to be Las Vegas, where dragons of different domains can meet without triggering territorial aggression. Neutral ground for disputes, for governance, for matters that affect multiple species interests.

"Will I need to go?" The thought of traveling in my condition, of facing a council of dragons in formal proceeding, sends fresh waves of anxiety through me.

"Yes." No prevarication, no false comfort. "Your presence is required, particularly for omega choice declaration if that's the path we choose."

If. The conditional dangles between us like bait neither is willing to seize first. We both know there really isn't a choice—administrative judgment would inevitably favor Vorthrax's technical argument, and blood challenge would risk everything on combat whose outcome, even with Kairyx's strategic intelligence, remains uncertain against a physically larger opponent.

"Tell me about him," I say instead, needing to understand exactly what threat we face. "Beyond what I saw at dinner. What kind of..." I hesitate, searching for the right word, "...alpha is he?"

Something dark passes across Kairyx's features, scales rippling with emotion too complex for human categorization. "He represents old draconic values. Power above all else. Dominance without temperance. He views humans as we onceviewed livestock—useful for what they provide, but inherently lesser beings."

"And you don't?" The question emerges sharper than intended, old wounds reopening beneath fresh fear.

"I did," he admits, the honesty surprising me. "When the rifts first opened, when we first emerged into this world, I saw humans as your kind saw animals—sentient, perhaps, but fundamentally different. Lesser."

"And now?" I press, needing to hear it articulated.

His alien eyes hold mine with uncomfortable intensity. "Now I recognize complexity where I once saw simplicity. Strength where I expected only weakness. Particularly in you."

The admission shouldn't warm me. Shouldn't create that flutter beneath my ribs that has nothing to do with the twins and everything to do with the being before me. Yet it does, another piece of evidence that whatever exists between us has grown beyond its violent beginnings into something I lack adequate language to define.

"Vorthrax has claimed seventeen omegas since the Conquest," Kairyx continues, voice hardening. "Twelve have died during pregnancy or childbirth. Of the five who survived, three were sent to breeding facilities after failing to produce viable offspring. The remaining two exist as little more than royal incubators, kept perpetually pregnant through chemical induction."

Horror coils through me with each word, cold and slithering. "And the Council allows this?"

"The Council concerns itself with draconic interests, not human welfare," he says, the words clinical but tone suggesting his own discomfort with this reality. "So long as territorial boundaries are respected and bloodline continuation proceeds, individual treatment of claimed omegas remains largely unregulated."

"So my choice is between continued captivity with you or probable death with him," I summarize, bitter laughter threatening to bubble up from somewhere dangerously close to hysteria. "Some choice."

"No." His hand tightens fractionally on mine. "Your choice is between partnership with me or slavery with him. Between a future where our children grow with both parents or one where they're taken from you the moment they're born. Between life—complicated, difficult, imperfect life—and likely death."

When framed that way, it's not really a choice at all. Yet something in me rebels against the simplification, against being cornered into decision by external threat rather than personal evolution.

"You still took my freedom," I remind him, needing to speak this truth despite everything else. "You still claimed me against my will. Changed my body, my life, my future without my consent."

"Yes." No excuses, no justifications. Just acknowledgment of undeniable fact. "I did those things."

"And now you need me to publicly forgive that. To declare it wasn't violation but choice."

He's silent for a long moment, scales shifting colors in patterns too complex for human interpretation. "I need you to decide if what exists between us now is worth preserving," he finally says. "If the future we might build together holds more value than the freedom you'd lose by choosing me."

The framing catches me off guard—not demand for submission but invitation to assessment. Weighing captivity against connection, biological claiming against the relationship that's grown in its aftermath.

---