Page 27 of Dragon’s Captive (Prime Omegaverse #1)

KAIRYX'S POV

The scent hits me like a physical blow.

Sweet. Intoxicating. Maddening.

I've caught traces of it for days as her suppressants failed—subtle hints that something extraordinary hid beneath chemical barriers. But this—this is a flood breaking through a crumbling dam. Pure omega heat pheromones saturate the air, settling on my tongue with a flavor more potent than ancient wine, more addictive than the rarest minerals my kind covet.

My dual lengths harden instantly within their scaled sheath, aching with need so intense it borders on pain. Seven failed claimings. Seven omegas who couldn't carry my bloodline to term. Seven disappointments that left my lineage teetering on extinction's edge.

But this one... this one is different.

I push open the door to her chambers—no, our chambers now—and the scent intensifies tenfold. My scales ripple involuntarily, darkening from obsidian to something deeper as my control slips. Centuries of careful restraint, of maintaining the balance between draconic nature and the humanoid form necessary for this conquered world, threatens to shatter in an instant.

She's on the bed, writhing against silk sheets that already bear the evidence of her body's preparation—slick darkening the fabric, the unmistakable scent of omega heat at its peak. Her skin flushes a delicate pink, sweat beading along her collarbones, dampening the chestnut hair that splays around her like living flame.

The sight makes my cocks pulse painfully within their sheath, tips already emerging as rut rises to match her heat. The need to breed, to claim, to fill her with my seed burns through my veins like liquid fire. I've never felt desire this intense—not in centuries of existence, not with any prior claiming.

She sees me. Fear spikes in her scent—sharp and metallic, cutting through the sweetness of heat—yet it doesn't deter the rut rising within me. If anything, it heightens it, primal satisfaction surging at the instinctive recognition of predator and prey.

"No," she gasps, scrambling back against the headboard, eyes wide with a terror that contradicts her body's obvious readiness. "Stay away from me."

My laugh rumbles through the chamber, smoke curling from my nostrils with each exhale. Her defiance is... unexpected. Entertaining. Seven previous omegas surrendered immediately to biological imperative, docile and pliant before the first touch. This one still fights despite what her body demands.

"Your mind resists," I observe, moving closer with deliberate slowness, allowing my form to shift further toward draconic truth with each step. Scales spread across my chest, wings partially extend from my back, claws lengthening from fingers that become less human with each passing second. "But your body knows what it needs."

I inhale deeply, tasting the air. Beneath the fear, beneath the anger radiating from her in waves, lies the unmistakable sweetness of arousal. Her heat-drunk body produces slick in desperate quantities, preparing for claiming no matter how fiercely her mind rebels.

"I would rather die," she hisses, defiant even as her thighs press together, seeking friction her conscious mind denies.

The declaration should anger me. Should trigger dominance display to crush such insolence. Instead, something like admiration flickers beneath the rut-haze consuming my thoughts. Such strength in a species I've considered little more than breeding stock since the rifts opened.

"That is not one of your options, little omega."

I reach the bed and she tries to flee—a laughable attempt given my reflexes. My hand closes around her wrist, the delicate bones beneath my grip feeling fragile enough to snap with casual pressure. I'm careful despite the rut surging through my system, despite the primal need to claim, to mount, to breed.

Her skin burns against my scales—fever-hot with heat, though still cooler than my natural temperature. The contrast is... pleasing. Everything about her calls to something deeper than rational thought, something ancient and undeniable.

"Let me go!" She twists in my grip, surprising me with her strength. For a brief moment, she breaks free, scrambling toward the edge of the bed.

I could allow her this small rebellion, this futile attempt at escape. But the rut tightens its grip on my mind, instinct overriding calculation. My hand shoots out, catching her ankle, dragging her back across silk sheets with effortless power. She lands beneath me, chest heaving, eyes wild with fear and fury and—beneath it all—the desperate need her heat demands.

My dual lengths emerge fully now, pressing painfully against the clothing I still wear, demanding release, demanding claiming, demanding to be buried in the tight, wet heat her omega body promises. The need to breed her overwhelms all other concerns, all other thoughts—a biological imperative as unstoppable as gravity.

"The struggle only heightens the pleasure," I inform her, pinning both wrists above her head with one hand while the other tears away the thin shift covering her body. The fabric shreds beneath my claws, revealing flesh flushed pink with heat and exertion. "For both of us."

Her body is perfection—soft curves where my form bears hardened angles, smooth skin where scales cover my frame. Evolutionary designed for this single purpose: to receive alpha claiming, to carry young, to ensure bloodline continuation. The sight of her naked beneath me, struggling yet heat-ready, makes my cocks throb with almost unbearable need. Pre-fluid beads at both tips, evidence of arousal beyond any I've experienced in centuries of existence.

Yet her eyes... her eyes promise violence if she were capable of delivering it.

"I hate you," she spits, the words lacking conviction as another wave of heat crashes through her. Her back arches involuntarily, bringing her bare breasts against my scaled chest. The contact draws a whimper she tries and fails to suppress, omega biology betraying conscious rejection.

"Hate sustains as well as love," I respond, lowering my head to inhale the concentrated scent at her throat, where the claiming gland pulses visibly beneath thin skin. "Perhaps better."

My tongue flicks out—tasting rather than merely smelling—and the flavor of her explodes across my senses like dragonfire. Pure omega essence, untainted by previous alpha claiming, rich with fertility and potential my bloodline desperately requires.

The last threads of restraint fray, then snap entirely.

My mouth fastens over her claiming gland, teeth scraping sensitive flesh without yet breaking skin. She bucks beneath me, a cry escaping that carries notes of both protest and unwilling pleasure. My free hand explores her body with predatory thoroughness—mapping the softness of her breasts, the curve of her waist, the flare of hips designed to carry offspring.

When my fingers find the slick gathering between her thighs, she tries to close her legs, rejection warring with biological need. Pointless resistance. My knee forces them apart with casual strength, exposing her completely to my touch.

"So wet," I growl against her throat, scales darkening further as rut consumes rational thought. "Your body betrays your words, little omega. Already prepared for claiming despite your mind's rejection."

The abundance of slick coating my fingers, the tight heat I find as I explore her entrance—perfection. My cocks throb painfully, demanding to replace my fingers, demanding to sink into that tight, wet channel evolution designed specifically to receive alpha claiming. The need to breed her burns through my system with increasing urgency, draconic instinct demanding seed be planted, demanding continuation of bloodline too long denied.