Page 15 of The Dragon's Omega

And with that, I squatted, wincing when my balls—blasted human form—scraped over the rock as I shimmied into the opening. Few dragons held on to the old tradition of crafting a grand, regal entrance to their hoards. History and experience had taught my kind that the brighter the spotlight, the more feet made pilgrimage to pilfer our treasures. I selected this because it was such an awkward fit. Who would expect a burly alpha dragon to scoot and wiggle and worm about down a narrow, biting corridor into the earth.

Many alphas would never suffer the indignity.

The few tight corners I remembered, that I instinctively avoided, weren’t as tight this time. I’d lost too much mass, too much heft. Lianna needed me at my prime; when we left this place, my omega sated and thoroughly tended to, I would struggle to fit at all.

My feet hit level ground first, and I grunted and growled as I worked the rest of my lumbering frame out. Then, panting, I braced a hand on the nearby wall, my back to a small, narrow, intentionally claustrophobic tunnel to nowhere.

“Come, Lianna,” I called, fighting to keep the bark out of the command. My omega would only ever come to me of her own free will. “I’m here. I’ll catch you.”

Would she run? Perhaps regret might drive her hand, force her back to the beach in search of ships on the black horizon. My gut twisted at the thought. My dangling hand coiled to a trembling fist.

But then I heard her soft exhales, her puffs and muffled squeaks as she made her way down.

Forced to crouch lest I skin my forehead like I did my balls, I put the last of my strength into seeing this first promise through. As soon as her feet edged out of the opening in the ceiling, I caught her by the calves, then slid my hands to her knees, smirking at her startled yelp. Easy as it would have been to wander higher, simple as breathing, the smeared slick on her thighs beckoning my fingers home, I braced somewhere safe—her hips, on top of her dress—and carefully lowered her by degrees until she was flat on her own two feet again.

“Hold my hand,” I urged, threading my fingers through hers. “I imagine humans haven’t developed night vision in the last fifteen years?”

She gave a little scoff as her fingers dug into my knuckles. “Uh, no.”

“I shall install torches, then.” I eased her forward, perfectly adept in total darkness. Of course, in my true form, the world was even clearer, but it didn’t exactly fit down here—yet. “For next time.”

She made a strangled noise, her eyes briefly closed, her head bowed. Violets peppered her perfume, a sweet, fresh floral that dragged my eager cock from a paltry half-mast to near full salute.

Fortunately, the rational part of my alpha brain stayed the course, determined to replenish my strength, my power—for her. Every step was for her. Every moment resisting her body’s flirtations was for my omega’s benefit. Protective, possessive, I leaned into the emotions that triggered my pheromones. As we shuffled along the tunnel, me hunched and Lianna clutching my hand, her expression wide-eyed and alert, my scent worked hard to cradle her, calm her, reassure her that with me, she was the safest she had ever been.

Twenty-five paces in, we came to a dead end. Any hunter who made it this far would pound their fists and blow their dynamite to no avail, the wall so solid, enhanced by spells and charms no longer in living memory, that not even a titan could blast through. Excitement shivered through me as I pressed Lianna’s palm to it.

“W-what…?”

“Your first taste of warding magic.” Hopefully, she could hear my smile, the delight in my words. For I would introduce her to every magic, teach her, indulge her curiosity. Not those Synn boys. Me. “The door only opens to my blood.” While I once considered allowing my fated mate’s blood to do the same, I’d then have to worry about unscrupulous cunts bleeding her to access my fortune. No. Torn flesh and spilled blood—that fell squarely on me.

I slashed my palm on the dagger imbedded in the wall, blade-side out. I wasn’t trying to hide it when I stuck it in there; let the other bastards water the stone with their life if they were so desperate for riches. When I was good and bloody, dripping ichor onto the ground, I pressed my hand to the wall, and Lianna cried out when it vanished from beneath our fingertips.

Keeping a firm grasp on her wrist, I steered her into the thick gray veil on the other side. As the last and most lethal security measure on the island, it was cursed to smother those with ill intentions. Thieves would suffocate on their shredded insides, drown in their own blood, burn with every breath.

Lianna passed through like it was just another Tuesday.

My heart thundered harder for her, for us.

Charcoal gave way to warm orange, the torches I had left burning long ago still bright on the other side, my enchantments holding strong. As we emerged from the fog, I glanced down at her, my pheromones softening, wanting to experience her earnest reaction to what lay ahead. Lianna coughed and brushed the nonexistent smog from her face, then blinked hurriedly as she straightened up to?—

“Oh.” She exhaled, her features going slack. “Oh, wow.”

“One of my smaller hoards.” I said it knowing this was all rather impressive to her—which was the point. We dragons got off on the surprise, the sheer awe of an outsider gazing upon our collection, each item painstakingly gathered, preserved, and treasured. “I keep my larger collections at the edge of the world.”

My omega nodded like that made complete sense, arms limp at her sides as she took it all in.

What was once a cramped corridor was now a cavern with gothic arches and cathedral ceilings. Forged of the region’s native stone, these main caves were magically enhanced to hold mountains of gold, pearls, jewels, statues, and marble. Immense black iron torches flickered on the columns scattered throughout, suited best to the halls of giants, blanketing the space in firelight. Here, for a good thirty feet left, right, and forward, was the only clear space, cobble detailing beneath our feet and an iron chandelier hanging high above our heads. Hundreds of candles sat unlit but well-worn, their wax dripping sculptures of past visits, the stone underfoot dotted with white droplets.

“My art has its own h-hall,” I insisted, lest she think I was one of those magpie types who only hoarded silver and gold. “Clothing in another. Tomes from this continent in a third—cooled for their pleasure.”

Releasing her with a waning grin, I sank to the ground, unable to stand as the last of my physical strength slipped away. “I keep the p-pantry charmed so the food is always fresh when I arrive, a bath with running water—one in the old Roman style. Big.”

At my prime, I could wax poetic about all my treasures, my design choices—every fleck of seasoning in my cupboards. Now, as my chest ached deeper and my once keen erection deflated, words lolled from my tongue like tepid molasses. “I-if you should need food, the bath, the toilet—I can direct you. You… You will need to do some climbing.”

Omegas instinctively ignored the need to eat, to sleep, during a heat, which was why good alphas ensured they stayed fed, hydrated, and rested—and, most importantly, full of knots, seed, and praise. This, however, was no regular heat. Lianna had impressive control over herself, but she still appeared trapped in the throes of a mating heat, the flash-bang of desire and need and desperation that came with scenting her soulmate.

No matter how collected she appeared, she was, without a doubt, overwhelmed and overstimulated. The least I could do was offer the basics before I sent her to fetch my heart.

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