Page 62 of Dragon's Captive

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, demandingclaiming, 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.

Read the rest by signing up for Allegra’s mailing list!

CHAPTER 27

THE PRIME OMEGAVERSE CONTINUES…

Don’t stop now!Every species in the Prime Omegaverse has its own unique features (wink wink) and enticing storyline. Keep reading and check out the next novel, Naga’s Mate!

She hid her true nature for years. Now she's caught in his coils with no escape.

For five years, plant expert Lyra Wilson has kept a deadly secret in the Serpent Dominion. She's an omega hiding in plain sight, making special plant medicines to mask her scent from the snake-like nagas who rule her world.

But one mistake changes everything.

When strange pollens wreck her carefully made suppressants, Commander Nezzar—the most feared naga guard in the territory—catches her scent. His massive coils trap her before she can run. His venomous bite floods her body with pleasure she can't fight. And worst of all? Her body craves more.

Claimed against her will, Lyra becomes addicted to Nezzar's venom. Her senses grow stronger with each bite. Her body adapts to his twin lengths. And when she finds herself carryinghis hybrid child, everything she thought she knew about monsters gets turned upside down.

When the human resistance tries to "rescue" her, Lyra discovers they might be more monstrous than the predator who now owns her body and heart. Caught between two worlds, she must choose: keep fighting a losing battle, or embrace the strange bond forming with her captor.

Naga's Mate is the second book in the hot and steamy Prime Omegaverse Series! Each book features a different monster alpha and the human omega who turns their world upside down. Warning: Contains explicit adult scenes with claiming bites, breeding, and possessive alphas who always get what they want. Happy endings guaranteed!

Heat. Not the gentle warmth of sunshine or the comforting glow of a lab burner, but something feral and consuming that claws through my veins like a living entity. It radiates from my core in savage waves, each stronger than the last, my biology punishing me for five years of chemical rebellion with catastrophic vengeance.

Trapped within Nezzar's coils in this steam-shrouded chamber, I'm drowning in my own treacherous flesh. The suppressants aren't just failing—they're violently imploding, creating a hormonal backlash that feels like being skinned from the inside out. Every nerve ending screams with sensitivity, my skin burning beneath his cool scales.

"Let me go," I gasp, the words scraping my throat raw. Another wave of heat slams through me, drawing a moan I despise myself for making as slick floods between my thighs. "Fuck—I can't?—"

---