9. Found and Lost
CHAPTER 9
FOUND AND LOST
My stomach lurches the moment the medical technician's expression changes—that slight widening of the eyes, the quick glance toward her colleague that sends ice crawling down my spine. The cold examination table beneath me suddenly feels like a slab of stone, the harsh lights burning my skin as instinctive dread floods my system.
"What is it?" My throat constricts around the words.
The beta woman avoids my eyes, sweat beading at her temples as she focuses on the monitors. Her fingers tremble slightly against the controls. She's careful not to look at Kael, whose massive form dominates the corner of the examination room, the temperature dropping several degrees around him as shadows pulse in rhythm with what I've come to recognize as agitation.
"I need to run another test," she says, her clinical tone betrayed by the rapid pulse visible at her throat. "Please remain still."
The scanner passes over my abdomen again, cold enough to raise goosebumps across my skin. The chill seeps deeper than surface level, as if the device is reaching into my core. I fight the urge to wrap my arms protectively around myself, acutely aware of the lingering soreness between my thighs, the claiming bruises scattered across my hips and breasts—each one a map of possession I can't escape.
The second technician approaches, a thin man whose Adam's apple bobs nervously as he recalibrates the scanner. "This is highly unusual," he whispers, the words not meant for me to hear. "We should inform Dr. Grey immediately."
Kael unfolds from his position, shadows coalescing around him like a living cloak. The air thickens, making it harder to breathe as he steps forward. "What have you found?" His voice vibrates through my bones, the sound seeming to come from inside my own head as much as from him.
Both technicians freeze, primal fear response overriding their training. The woman speaks first, words carefully measured. "Lord Nightshadow, preliminary scans indicate..." Her hands clench against the scanner. "The omega is pregnant. Approximately ten days post-conception."
The words hit me like a physical blow. My ears ring. The room tilts sideways for a moment as bile rises in my throat. Pregnant. The word echoes in my mind, foreign and impossible. My hands fly to my abdomen—still flat, still mine, still human—but suddenly harboring something alien.
"That's impossible," I choke out, the taste of fear metallic on my tongue. "Shadow demon hybrids don't survive in human hosts." I search the technicians' faces desperately. "The rejection rate is over ninety-seven percent. Everyone knows that."
The male technician's scientific curiosity momentarily overcomes his fear of Kael. "Which makes these readings extraordinary. The embryonic shadow integration patterns are unlike anything in our records."
Kael moves with unnatural speed to my side. The sudden proximity makes my skin crawl even as something deeper—something I refuse to acknowledge—responds to his presence. All four of his hands motion for the technicians to step back. They comply instantly, pressing themselves against the wall as though trying to melt into it.
"Show me the readings," he demands, purple eyes burning with such intensity that they cast faint light across the monitors.
The female technician complies, fingers dancing across the controls to display a dizzying array of data. Hormonal charts with spiking levels. Cellular imagery showing what looks like darkness flowing through cell membranes. Microscopic footage of something pulsing with unnatural rhythm.
"Hormone levels have already surpassed established parameters for this stage," the male technician explains, pointing with a shaking finger. "And these cellular formations—" he indicates clusters of cells tinged with what looks like living shadow, "—show integration patterns we've never documented. The shadow essence isn't overwhelming the human cells but... merging with them."
A sound rumbles from Kael's chest, vibrating through the air with such intensity that the instruments tremble. It's not quite a growl, not quite a purr, but something primal that makes the shadows around him writhe with what can only be described as pleasure.
"Leave us," he commands, and the technicians flee, practically tripping over each other in their haste to escape.
I'm alone with him now. The examination table's cold surface seeps through the thin medical gown, raising goosebumps across my skin. My insides feel hollow and foreign, as though my body has become unfamiliar territory overnight. My hand trembles as it moves to my abdomen—still flat and unchanged to the eye, but suddenly harboring an impossible truth.
"This isn't happening," I whisper, voice cracking. "This can't be happening."
One of Kael's massive hands hovers over my midsection, not touching but close enough that I feel the cold emanating from his shadow-black skin. "And yet, it is."
Something about his tone—a reverence I've never heard before—sends a fresh wave of terror through me. This isn't just about claiming me anymore. This is something more.
"Is this what you wanted all along?" The words scrape my throat raw, hot tears threatening at the corners of my eyes. "Was this your goal? To plant your... your monster inside me?"
His head tilts, purple eyes studying me with unsettling intensity. "This outcome was desired but not expected," he says, voice softer than I've ever heard it. "Shadow demon offspring rarely survive in human hosts. Your body's adaptation suggests rare genetic compatibility."
His four hands move in unison, creating a canopy of shadow above my abdomen. The darkness ripples with gentle movement, and through it—through it—I feel something that steals the breath from my lungs.
A presence.
Not a consciousness, not yet. Nothing so defined. But a whisper of existence, a flutter of potential so faint I might have imagined it. Except I didn't. It's there, undeniably there, pulsing with life that is neither fully human nor fully shadow.
"There," Kael says, something like wonder in his voice. "Can you feel it?"
I want to deny it. Want to shut it out, reject this invasion of my body, this violation that goes beyond physical claiming to something more fundamentally transformative. But the tears spill over now, hot tracks down my temples as I lie there, feeling the impossible.
"What's happening to me?" The question emerges broken, vulnerable in a way I haven't allowed myself to be since capture.
Kael's expression shifts to something I cannot read—his alien features reconfiguring into what might be concern. "Your body is adapting to nurture something unique. Something that should be impossible."
His hands withdraw the shadow canopy, but the sensation lingers—that faint pulse of otherworldly life nestled inside me. My mind spins with implications, each more terrifying than the last. What will this pregnancy do to me? How will it change me? Will I still be myself when—if—it's over?
"What happens now?" I ask, unable to keep the tremor from my voice. "Will you send me to the breeding facilities?" The thought of being transferred to those sterile halls, treated like livestock, monitored and prodded by countless strangers rather than just one familiar monster, sends fresh fear coursing through me.
The temperature in the room plummets as shadows whirl around Kael, darkness gathering with such intensity that the lights dim. "No one takes what is mine," he says, each word carrying a lethal promise. "No one touches what carries my offspring."
His vehemence startles me—not just the possessiveness, which I've come to expect, but the protective fury behind it. This isn't standard protocol for shadow demons. The resistance intelligence I've gathered indicates that successful breeding usually results in omega transfer to specialized facilities.
"And the resistance information?" I press, desperately seeking clarity about what this means for my future, for those whose names and locations he extracted from my mind.
All four arms cross over his massive chest, his stance shifting to something more formal. "Psychic stress could threaten embryonic development. That matter will wait."
Wait. The implications hit me with stunning force. This unexpected pregnancy has given me a shield, however temporary. Time to rebuild mental defenses. Time to observe. Time to plan.
But at what cost?
---
Three days later, I stand naked before the mirror in my private bathing chamber, fingers trembling as they trace the changes I can already see. Just below my navel, spreading in delicate tendril patterns along the paths of veins and arteries, shadows move beneath my skin. Not bruises, not discoloration, but actual darkness—living shadow with defined edges that pulse faintly in rhythm with my heartbeat.
The sight sends simultaneous waves of fascination and revulsion through me. I press my fingertips against the largest pattern, a star-like formation centered over where the embryo must be developing. The shadowed skin feels different—cooler to the touch, slightly firmer, as though the tissue itself is transforming. When I press harder, a strange sensation ripples outward—not pain, but awareness, as if the shadow responds to contact.
Nothing in resistance intelligence prepared me for this. We know about claimed omegas. We know about breeding facilities. But this—this intimate merging of human and shadow—is undocumented territory.
I'm still staring at my reflection, cataloging the changes with scientific detachment that barely holds panic at bay, when the door slides open without warning. I grab my robe but don't manage to close it before Kael enters, his massive form momentarily blocking all light from the adjoining chamber.
"The medical team will arrive tomorrow for further examination," he announces, then stops as his glowing eyes fix on my exposed abdomen. "The integration progresses well."
I clutch the robe closed, sudden vulnerability making my hands shake. "Is this normal?" My voice sounds small, unfamiliar. "These... patterns. Is this what happens to all claimed omegas?"
Kael approaches slowly, giving me time to register his proximity—a courtesy he's begun showing only since the pregnancy announcement. "No," he says simply. "This level of shadow integration is rare. Most human bodies resist the process, leading to rejection."
"And mine doesn't," I say, unable to keep bitterness from my tone. "My body just... accepts this invasion."
"Adaptation is not surrender," he replies, surprising me with his insight. "It is survival."
His hand extends toward me, hovering near my abdomen without touching. "May I?"
The request for permission startles me. In all our previous interactions, he's taken what he wanted without hesitation. This shift—this acknowledgment of boundary—feels significant in ways I can't fully articulate.
I hesitate, then nod stiffly, telling myself it's strategic—showing compliance while I rebuild my mental defenses.
His hand slips inside my robe, shadow-black against my pale skin. The contact sends a shiver through me that isn't entirely fear. His touch is gentle as he traces the patterns, fingertips following the dark tendrils with what feels disturbingly like reverence.
"These will spread," he says, voice low and intimate in the small space between us. "Following your major circulatory pathways as the embryo develops. The shadow essence seeks connection to your life systems."
A wave of vertigo washes over me as the full implications sink in. "It's changing me," I whisper, the words catching in my throat. "From the inside out."
"Yes," Kael acknowledges, his eyes following his hand's movement across my skin. "And that change ensures survival—for both of you."
I step back sharply, breaking the contact. The patterns seem to pulse more strongly in his absence, as though responding to the separation. "And that's all that matters to you, isn't it? Successful breeding. Another victory for the Conquest."
Instead of anger, his expression shows something worse—patience, as if my outburst is merely an expected inconvenience. "You misunderstand the significance," he says, shadows rippling around him. "Shadow demon reproduction with humans has a success rate below three percent. Most hybrids fail within days of conception, unable to integrate without destroying the host."
He gestures toward my abdomen, where the patterns continue their slow pulse beneath my skin. "What's happening here isn't just rare—it's unprecedented. The shadow essence is merging with your biology rather than overwhelming it."
The clinical assessment makes my stomach churn. "So I'm not just an omega breeder," I say, unable to keep the edge from my voice. "I'm a science experiment too."
Kael's eyes narrow slightly. "You are the carrier of something unique," he corrects. "Something that will be coveted by many once knowledge of it spreads."
The statement sends fresh fear coursing through me. "Coveted by who? Sovereign Obscura?" The name slips out before I can consider its wisdom—the ultimate authority in the Shadow Dominion, a being even other shadow demons seem to fear.
The shadows around Kael darken dramatically, swirling with increased speed. "News of this nature doesn't remain contained for long," he says, resignation coloring his tone. "When Obscura learns of it, there will be... interest."
The carefully chosen word tells me everything. Even Kael, with all his power and position, answers to higher authorities. This pregnancy has implications beyond our forced connection, beyond these chambers.
"What will they do?" I ask, sudden terror making my voice crack. "Will they take—" I stop myself, shocked at the protective instinct rising unbidden.
"They will try," Kael says, the simple statement carrying unmistakable threat. "But as I said—no one takes what is mine."
The possessive declaration should infuriate me. Instead, it sends a confusing wave of relief through my system. Better the monster I know than the ones I don't.
"How long?" I ask, needing practical information to ground myself in this new reality. My hand unconsciously moves to the shadow patterns, feeling their alien coolness beneath my palm.
"Six months from conception," he replies. "Hybrids develop more rapidly than human offspring."
Six months. The knowledge should terrify me, but my mind immediately begins calculating. Six months to observe. Six months to find weaknesses. Six months before interrogations resume.
"And then what?" I force myself to ask, needing to understand the full scope of what lies ahead. "After birth... what happens to it?"
For the first time, Kael seems genuinely surprised by my question. "It will remain with us," he says, as if stating the obvious. "Shadow demon young require parental psychic bonding during early development. Separation causes permanent integration failure."
The casual reference to "us" as a unit sends an unexpected chill through me—not because it's threatening, but because for the briefest moment, it doesn't sound entirely wrong.
"Rest," Kael says, moving toward the door. "Your body is undergoing significant changes that require adaptation."
As he leaves, I turn back to the mirror, letting the robe fall open to examine the shadow patterns again. They seem to have darkened just in our short conversation, the tendrils extending fractionally further along the blue paths of veins visible beneath my skin.
I place my palm flat against my abdomen, feeling the coolness of the shadowed skin against my hand. The sensation is alien yet increasingly familiar—as though my body is already accepting these changes as the new normal.
This life growing inside me—this hybrid creature—represents both my deepest captivity and, potentially, my greatest leverage. Kael values it. Desires its successful development. Perhaps enough to make mistakes, to create openings I can exploit.
And yet, as I trace the shadow patterns with my fingertips, I can't deny the strange sense of connection forming—not just to the life within me, but to something larger, something I don't yet understand.
My fingers tremble as I close the robe, the reality of my situation settling into my bones with crushing weight. My body is transforming—adapting to nurture something that shouldn't be possible. Every cell being rewritten to accommodate shadow essence. Where does such fundamental change end? The question that haunts me as I turn away from the mirror is simple and terrifying:
If my body can adapt to shadow, what's to stop my mind from following?