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Massive arms slide beneath me, tearing me from the only rest I've known since my world collapsed into biological chaos. Consciousness returns in jagged pieces—the deep ache where his knot stretched me beyond human limits, the stiffness in muscles that remember every moment of submission, the unmistakable musk of alpha possession embedded so deep in my skin that the cave's mineral pools couldn't wash it away.

"What—" The question dies as heat slams through me like molten metal through my veins.

It's building again, this treacherous biology that transforms me from thinking person into desperate animal. Worse than before. My skin blazes with renewed fever, every nerve ending screaming protests at the rough stone walls, the humid cave air, even the furs that chafe against oversensitized flesh. Between my thighs, moisture forms with shameful eagerness despite my conscious revulsion, inner muscles clenching around emptiness that feels more hollow now that I know what can fill it.

The pain cuts deeper this time—heat after temporary satisfaction, need after brief completion. My body has tasted relief and now craves it with addictive intensity.

"Your cycle returns," Vex observes, nostrils flaring as he drinks in the chemical changes announcing my renewed availability. Those predatory eyes narrow, pupils contracting to blade-thin slits. "Faster than I expected. The suppressant rebound is creating cascade effects."

He carries me through winding passages with unhurried confidence despite my escalating symptoms. Each step sends vibrations through my sensitized body, drawing sounds I refuse to acknowledge as coming from my throat. The stone beneath his feet slopes upward, air growing cooler and damper. We're ascending toward the surface, toward the storm I can hear intensifying with each corridor we traverse.

My arms circle his neck from necessity rather than affection—muscles too wrung out from the earlier claiming to maintain independence. Heat builds with each heartbeat, worse than the first time. The initial claiming should have provided longer relief, but my chemically damaged system follows no normal patterns. I press my face against his chest despite hating myself for seeking comfort from my captor, rational thought fragmenting under the renewed assault of omega biology.

"Where?" I manage through teeth clenched against another wave of burning need.

"You need different claiming this time," he says, wings shifting against his back in what I'm learning to recognize as anticipation. "Something to reach the deepest omega instincts."

The tunnel opens suddenly onto the cave entrance where he first found me cowering in the storm. Beyond the protective overhang, nature still wages war—rain slashing horizontally across stone, wind screaming through mountain passes like tortured souls, lightning fracturing darkness into strobing nightmare. The raw violence of elements in their most merciless form.

"Hold tight," he commands, adjusting his grip until I'm secured against his chest like precious cargo.

Before terror can fully register, Vex launches us directly into the storm's maw. My scream vanishes instantly, devoured by howling wind as the earth plummets away beneath us. Fingers claw at his scaled shoulders with desperate strength, nails snapping against surface harder than human bone. His wings slice through wind and water, each powerful stroke driving us higher despite conditions that should make flight impossible.

Fear overwhelms even the heat burning through my system. We're hundreds of feet above killing stone in seconds, with nothing between me and shattering death but his grip and my clinging arms. The tactical part of my brain—the part that calculated medical odds and survival chances for eight years—runs probability assessments and finds them catastrophically poor.

Lightning explodes around us, close enough that electrical discharge raises fine hairs across my arms. In those blazing moments, I see his expression—eyes narrowed against the elements, jaw set with grim determination, scales darkening from effort and arousal both. Rain streams off his wings in sheets, each beat shedding water instantly replaced by the deluge.

My heart hammers against ribs so violently I fear they might crack. Cold rain soaks through my thin clothing. Plastering fabric to fever-hot skin. The contrast makes both sensations unbearable. I should be freezing, but the heat transforms icy water to steam where it touches me. Creating a personal weather system of my body's making.

We punch through the cloud layer into impossible calm. The transition steals what little breath remains, lungs struggling with thin air. Above us, stars pierce the darkness in patterns invisible from below, brilliant and clear without atmosphericinterference. Below, the storm churns like a living entity, lightning illuminating its depths in violent beauty. Between cloud breaks, moonlight reveals his territory—jagged peaks and hidden valleys, gorges and plateaus stretching beyond the horizon.

"What are you doing?" I scream over wind that tries to steal the words from my lips.

His response comes in action rather than explanation. With terrifying efficiency, he repositions me until I face him directly, legs wrapping around his waist by survival instinct alone. With nothing but his strength preventing fatal impact, surrender becomes the only option as he positions me over his already-hard length, eyes locked with mine in unmistakable intent.

"Flight claiming creates bonds ground claiming cannot," he says, voice carrying despite the rushing air. "Your heat demands something more primal."

Gravity becomes his ally as he lowers me onto him in mid-flight. The penetration feels different—my body still shaped by his earlier claiming, tissues adapted and slick with remnants of his seed and my own shameful readiness. But the sensation transcends anything I've experienced—complete vulnerability of being joined hundreds of feet above certain death, adrenaline of flight merging with heat-driven arousal in chemical combinations my brain never evolved to process.

Each spiral ridge along his shaft creates friction against sensitized walls as he seats me fully, textured surface sending sparks of unwanted pleasure radiating through my core. Every detail feels magnified—the alien heat of him inside me, the impossible girth stretching me beyond natural limits, the ridged pattern that seems designed specifically to drive omega minds toward madness.

"This is aerial claiming," he growls against my ear, wings beating steadily to maintain our impossible position. "The ultimate bonding between Chimeric alpha and his omega."

Words abandon me entirely. Each wingbeat shifts him inside me. Gravity forces me down while his upward flight creates counterrhythm no ground-based claiming could replicate. The dual motion reaches places that make stars explode behind my closed eyelids. Touching nerve clusters I didn't know existed.

The sucker extends, finding my most sensitive flesh with precision that defies our precarious position. Unlike the ground claiming where it worked from below, now it curves upward from between our joined bodies, demonstrating flexibility that speaks to evolutionary perfection in omega-hunting anatomy. When it attaches with that alien suction, my resistance crumbles like poorly mortared stone.

"Feel that?" he rumbles, voice vibrating through chest and into mine where we're pressed together. "My anatomy evolved for this—claiming you in any position, any place, any way I choose."

The suction begins gently then intensifies, matching the rhythm of his wings with mathematical precision. The sensation bypasses conscious resistance entirely—insistent pulling that draws blood to the surface, heightening sensitivity beyond bearable levels. Combined with fullness inside me and adrenaline of flight, it creates sensory assault my mind can't categorize or defend against.

"Flight claiming evolved for specific purposes," he explains, voice carrying clearly despite our position. His wings adjust, taking us into a gentle spiral that changes penetration angles, reaching new places that drag involuntary cries from my throat. "Vulnerability creates dependency. Dependency creates bonding stronger than any ground claiming achieves."

His logic cuts through my resistance because it's undeniably correct. Something primitive in my omega biology responds to this aerial helplessness with terrifying receptivity. My body recognizes the absolute protection his flight provides—if he wanted me dead, gravity would handle the execution. Instead, he keeps me safe while claiming me in the most vulnerable position imaginable.

We soar higher, punching through another cloud layer into air so thin each breath burns my lungs. Reduced oxygen heightens every sensation, making me lightheaded and more susceptible to the pleasure building like storm pressure inside me. The cold at this altitude should be killing, but between my heat and his natural warmth, I barely register it against skin that feels ready to ignite.

"Your scent changes," he notes with deep satisfaction, breathing me in like expensive wine. "Your omega recognizes true claiming when it experiences it."