Page 19 of Dragon's Captive

Eventually, his release subsides, leaving us locked together by his expanded knots, his seed sealed deep inside me where omega biology will ensure it takes root. The physical claiming is complete, the biological bond established regardless of my consent or lack thereof.

In the aftermath, as we remain joined by evolutionary design, I turn my face away from his golden gaze, unable to bear the satisfaction I know I'll find there. Silent tears slip down my cheeks—not from physical pain, which has mostly faded into a dull ache, but from the deeper wound of my body's betrayal, its eager acceptance of what my mind still rejects.

"The tears are unnecessary," Kairyx says, his voice gentler than I expected given the brutality of the claiming. One scaled thumb brushes moisture from my cheek with surprising delicacy. "Your body responded exactly as it should."

"Don't touch me," I whisper, the words lacking conviction when he's literally still inside me, his knots ensuring we remain physically connected for what could be another hour, based on what I know of alpha physiology.

He sighs, the sound almost human in its weariness. "The claiming is done, Clara. Fighting what's already happened only prolongs your adjustment period."

Adjustment period. As if this is a job transition or a move to a new city, not the complete upending of my identity, the violation of everything I've fought to preserve for a decade.

"I hate you," I tell him, meaning every syllable despite the lingering endorphins from forced pleasure still flooding my system.

"For now," he acknowledges, shifting our position with surprising care so that we lie on our sides, still joined by his knots but with less of his weight pressing me into the mattress. "That will change."

I want to argue, to insist that nothing will change my hatred for him or what he represents. But exhaustion crashes over me in the wake of heat-satisfaction, dragging me toward unconsciousness despite my determination to remain alert, to maintain some semblance of control.

The last thing I register before sleep claims me is the strange gentleness of his hand stroking my hair, the unexpected care in how he arranges my limbs more comfortably against his massive form. The contradiction—brutal claiming followed by tender attention—confuses my heat-addled brain, creating cognitive dissonance I'm too exhausted to process.

As consciousness slips away, one terrible truth follows me into darkness: my body has surrendered completely to evolutionary imperatives I cannot fight. The claiming is done. I am his now, in the most fundamental way possible.

And some traitorous part of me, buried beneath layers of resistance and righteous anger, whispers that perhaps this isn't the end I feared, but a beginning I never allowed myself to imagine.

I silence that whisper with the last of my strength, clinging to defiance even as dragon-warmed sleep claims me completely.

CHAPTER 9

HEAT HAZE

Time blurs in heat.

I wake to sunlight streaming through the balcony. Morning, but which one? The first after claiming? The second? My thoughts drift in a fog of hormones and endorphins, unable to grasp anything solid.

Only physical sensations remain clear—the tenderness between my thighs, the lingering fullness from hours of use, dried evidence of multiple claimings on my skin. I should feel disgust. Anger. Something beyond this strange disconnection from reality.

Instead, my rebellious body hums with satisfaction while my mind struggles to piece itself back together.

The space beside me lies empty, though the sheets still radiate Kairyx's unnatural warmth. Small mercies. At least I have moments to gather myself before the next wave hits, before he returns to assert his claim again.

I try to sit up and instantly regret it. Every muscle protests, unaccustomed to the demands of the claiming. My intimate tissues feel both tender and oversensitized, a constant reminder of the impossible anatomy that possessed me. That will possess me again. And again. Until my heat finally burns out.

Water. I need water. My throat feels raw—from screaming? From begging? The memory fades into haze, and I'm not sure I want it to clear.

As if summoned by my thought, Elara appears with a tray—water, broth, and pills I view with suspicion.

"Just supplements," she explains, placing the tray beside me. "Heat depletes your body faster than illness. You need to replenish."

I swallow the pills without argument, then drain the water in desperate gulps. The cool liquid soothes my parched throat like salvation.

"How long?" I ask, my voice a ragged shadow of itself.

"You've been in full heat for nearly twenty-four hours," she answers, her movements revealing nothing of her thoughts about my situation. "The Commander expects it to last another two to three days, given the intensity."

Another two to three days. The thought should terrify me. Instead, my primal omega instincts nearly purr with anticipation while my conscious mind recoils. The contradiction makes my head spin.

"Where is he?" I try to sound neutral, as if asking about the weather rather than my captor.

"Territorial business," Elara says, gathering soiled linens with brisk efficiency. "He'll return when it's finished. In the meantime, you should rest while you can."

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