Page 1 of Dragon's Captive

PROLOGUE: THE WORLD AFTER THE CONQUEST

Ten years ago, the fabric between dimensions tore open without warning.

The rifts appeared simultaneously across major cities worldwide, disgorging creatures humanity had relegated to myth and nightmare. Dragons soared over metropolitan skylines. Kraken tentacles emerged from harbors and lakes. Plant beings erupted from parks and forests. Shadow demons poured from darkened alleys and underneath beds. Within days, the world as humanity knew it ceased to exist.

Scientists would later theorize that environmental destruction, experimental quantum physics, or perhaps simply cosmic chance had caused these dimensional tears. Whatever the cause, the effect was undeniable—monsters had returned to Earth, and they brought with them biological imperatives that would reshape human society forever.

The beings that emerged were not mindless beasts but intelligent predators with their own hierarchies, cultures, and overwhelming biological drives. Most significantly, they operated on an alpha/omega dynamic far more potent than the vestigial secondary gender system that had existed in humans for millennia. Upon arrival, these creatures—collectively termed"Primes" in official documentation—immediately detected human omegas, whose existence had been largely marginalized in pre-Conquest society.

Human alpha males were systematically eliminated in what became known as the Blood Week. Military resistance crumbled when Prime alphas demonstrated abilities beyond human comprehension—dragons that could withstand missile strikes, shadow demons who could move through solid matter, plant creatures who could control vegetation across entire regions. When the United Nations attempted emergency peace negotiations, the Primes made their terms clear: surrender all omega females for "integration" and eliminate alpha males who might compete for breeding rights.

Some nations attempted to fight. None succeeded. By the end of the first month, the Conquest was complete. A new world order had begun.

In this new reality, human omegas face a stark truth—their biology, once a minor footnote in human existence, now defines their entire future. The Primes operate under Conquest Law, which grants them undisputed right to claim any unmated omega they encounter. Resistance is futile; suppressing omega nature through chemicals only delays the inevitable.

For ten years, humans have lived under Prime rule, the world divided into territories controlled by different monster species. Dragons rule the Eastern Seaboard, their fire and fury reshaping cities into nesting grounds. Nagas control the Southern waterways, transforming swamps and bayous into breeding territories. Shadow demons command the urban Midwest, their darkness penetrating every corner of once-bright cities. Each Prime species has carved out its domain, establishing hierarchies where humans serve and omegas breed.

Some humans resist, operating in secret networks to smuggle suppressants, hide omegas, and undermine Prime authoritywhen possible. But their efforts are drops in an ocean of change. The world belongs to the Primes now, and human society exists at their mercy.

For omegas, life offers limited options: be claimed by a Prime alpha willing to provide protection in exchange for breeding rights, end up in government breeding facilities where personal identity is stripped away, or attempt to hide using increasingly ineffective suppressants—a path that grows more dangerous with each passing year.

This is the world of the Conquest, where ancient monsters rule with primal authority, where human omegas are prized for their fertility, and where the boundaries between captivity and connection blur with each passing generation of hybrid offspring. In this world, monsters and humans forge unexpected bonds, finding that even in darkness, connection can bloom—though never on equal terms.

For the lucky few omegas, captivity by a single powerful alpha might be preferable to the alternatives. And for some, against all odds, what begins as forced claiming may evolve into something neither species expected—something that might, generations hence, bridge the divide between conqueror and conquered.

This is where our story begins.

CHAPTER 1

HIDDEN IN PLAIN SIGHT

My fingers trembleas I count them again. Seven pills. Only seven left.

I close my fist around the small amber bottle and press it against my sternum, where my heart hammers an anxious rhythm. Seven pills means seven days. Seven days until my next supply run, which wouldn't be a problem except for the fact that my body is already warming, the suppressants failing earlier than expected. Already, I can feel the telltale flush creeping up my neck, the subtle loosening of my muscles, my senses sharpening in ways that have nothing to do with fear and everything to do with biology.

"Dammit," I whisper, the sound barely disturbing the hushed silence of the Ashton Ridge library's rare book room. The word feels inadequate for the spike of terror that accompanies it.

Ten years. Ten years of hiding what I am, of chemical suppression and vigilant paranoia, of watching other omegas being claimed or carted off to breeding facilities. Ten years of existing as Clara Dawson, beta librarian—invisible, forgettable, safe. And now, because of a simple miscalculation, it might all fall apart.

I uncurl my fingers and look at the bottle again. The label has long since worn away, but I don't need it. I know exactly what's inside—my lifeline, my protection, my chemical shield against a biology that would make me nothing more than a possession in this new world. I carefully slide it back into the hidden compartment beneath the floorboard, pushing aside the sudden, unwelcome thought that maybe this is inevitable. That maybe I've just been postponing the unavoidable.

No. I refuse to think that way.

The grandfather clock in the main reading room chimes three times, pulling me from my spiral of dread. I've spent too long in here, hidden away with my contraband and fears. With practiced movements, I replace the floorboard, ensuring it sits perfectly flush with its neighbors. The antique Persian rug slides back into place, concealing my secret as it has for years.

Rising to my feet, I straighten my sensible beige cardigan, smooth my practical brown skirt, and twist my chestnut hair more securely into its customary bun. The mirror on the wall reflects a woman of thirty-two who could be anywhere from twenty-eight to forty—deliberately forgettable, intentionally plain. A woman no one would look at twice.

The only tells are my eyes, hazel and too bright with the intelligence I've learned to mask. And now, if I look closely, the faint flush high on my cheekbones that has nothing to do with cosmetics.

A rap on the door makes me flinch.

"Miss Dawson?"

It's just Elijah, the teenage beta who helps shelve books after school. Not a dragon. Not a threat. My heart settles marginally.

"Yes?" I call back, my voice steady despite everything. A decade of practice has its benefits.

"There's a messenger here for you. From the administrative center."

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