Page 5 of Dragon's Captive

I focus on the task, gesturing to the glass-fronted cases containing our oldest manuscripts. "These texts date from approximately fifty years before the Conquest. Some are quite rare—historical accounts of early settlement in the region, personal journals, scientific observations of local flora and fauna."

Commander Emberscale moves to the cases, studying the displayed pages with obvious interest. I allow myself the smallest breath of relief as his attention shifts from me to the artifacts. He's asking about preservation techniques, about cataloging methods, normal questions that require professional answers. This is working. Just a few more minutes and?—

He freezes mid-sentence, his massive body going suddenly, unnaturally still. His nostrils flare, and his head turns toward me with deliberate slowness, with terrible purpose. His pupils contract to vertical slits as he inhales deeply, deliberately, his tongue flicking out slightly to taste the air—a gesture entirely draconic, abandoning the human pretense he's maintained until now.

"Interesting," he murmurs, his voice dropping to a dangerous rumble that vibrates through the small room. "You smell... different from the other humans in this settlement."

Ice floods my veins, followed immediately by fire. He knows. Or suspects. The extra suppressant was a mistake—changing my chemical signature, creating inconsistency that his enhanced senses detected. Ten years of careful hiding undone by a simple miscalculation.

"I've been unwell," I manage, the lie springing to my lips with desperate ease. "A minor infection. The doctor prescribed?—"

"No." The single word cuts through my excuse like a blade. He steps closer, and I instinctively retreat until my back hits the bookshelf behind me. "That's not illness I smell, librarian."

His massive form looms over me, head lowering as he deliberately scents the air around my neck, near where an omega's scent gland would be most active. I press myself harder against the shelves, as if I could somehow pass through solid wood through sheer desperation.

"What are you hiding, Clara Dawson?" he asks, my name transformed into something dangerous in his mouth. "What lies have you been telling?"

The world narrows to the inches between us, to him scrutinizing me with terrible focus, to the heat radiating from his massive body that triggers an answering warmth in my core that no amount of suppressants can fully quell. My heart hammers against my ribs with such force I'm certain he can hear it, can sense the fear and the unwanted response my omega biology is mounting to his alpha presence.

"Nothing, Commander." The lie tastes like ash on my tongue. "I don't know what you mean."

His smile is slow, predatory, revealing teeth too sharp to be human. "I think you do." He leans closer still, and my lungs forget how to draw breath. "I think you've been hiding something very significant indeed."

CHAPTER 3

DISCOVERED

"You've been hidingwhat you are," Kairyx growls, moving toward me with terrifying speed for someone so large.

The accusation hangs in the air between us, as tangible as the heat radiating from his massive form. Fear crystallizes in my veins, a decade of nightmares suddenly manifesting in golden eyes narrowed to predatory slits.

I back away, mind racing through options that don't exist. Denial? Useless against senses evolved to detect prey. Pleading? Dragons respect strength, not weakness. Running? Where would I go that he couldn't follow?

"I don't know what you mean," I try anyway, voice barely above a whisper. "Commander, I assure you?—"

His clawed hand shoots out with impossible speed, wrapping around my wrist before I can complete the thought. The contact is electric, terrifying—his skin burning against mine with the unnatural heat of dragon physiology.

"Liar," he says, voice dropping lower, rougher. Not quite a growl but something primal all the same. His grip tightens, not enough to bruise but sufficient to communicate absolute control. "Your chemical deception might fool humans, but not me. I cantaste it in the air, little omega. The suppressants failing, your true nature emerging."

My heart thunders in my chest, so violently I swear I can see my blouse fluttering with each frantic beat. But worse—far worse—is what happens next. My body, my traitorous body, responds to his alpha pheromones with a rush of slick between my thighs. Ten years of suppressed biology reacts to his proximity like a starving creature finally offered sustenance.

No no no no.

I struggle to form denials even as my knees weaken beneath me. The heat crawling up my neck isn't just fear now—it's the precursor to something I've chemically postponed for a decade, something I've read about in banned biology texts but never fully experienced. My omega biology recognizing an alpha. The most dangerous alpha.

"Let go of me," I manage, the demand undermined by the tremor in my voice.

His nostrils flare again, and a terrible smile spreads across his face, revealing teeth too sharp to be human. "Your mouth says one thing, but your body..." He inhales deeply, deliberately, his pupils contracting to thin vertical lines. "Your body knows what you truly are. What you need."

Something inside me snaps—survival instinct overwhelming even omega biology's treacherous pull. I twist suddenly, using the surprise of resistance to break from his grip. My rational mind knows it's only because he allowed it, that no human could truly break a dragon's hold, but I don't stop to consider this.

I run.

Behind me, I hear the sound that will haunt my nightmares if I live long enough to have them again—Kairyx's laugh, deep and predatory, genuinely amused by my futile resistance. Not angry, not even offended. Entertained. The sound follows me as I dash between the shelves, knocking them over behind me toblock his path. Books tumble to the floor, their pages fluttering like panicked birds. Centuries of knowledge sacrificed to buy me seconds of escape.

"Run, little omega," his voice calls after me, resonating through the library. "It only makes the claiming sweeter."

Claiming. The word sends fresh terror pulsing through me. I've seen claimed omegas—eyes vacant with chemical dependency, bodies swollen with hybrid offspring, existing as living incubators for monster seed. I'd rather die.

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