Page 7 of Naga's Mate

His tongue flickers outward again, sampling the increasingly sweet notes of my scent as another wave of heat pulses through me. This time, the sensation overwhelms my strength, making my knees buckle. Only his supporting coils prevent my collapse as my body surrenders further to biology I've spent years denying.

"The pollens revealed your truth," he repeats, his earlier words now carrying deeper significance as I comprehend how completely my carefully constructed existence has unraveled. "And now you will fulfill both aspects of your nature—the scientist and the omega. Beginning tonight."

As his coils tighten around me with possessive determination, I recognize with terrible certainty that my five years of freedom have ended. In their place begins something I've feared since the moment the dimensional rifts opened and monsters emerged to remake our world—a reality where my body's biology dictates my fate, regardless of my mind's rejection.

I'm caught in the coils, literally and metaphorically. And there's no escape from either.

CHAPTER4

VENOM'S FIRST KISS

Heat.Not the gentle warmth of sunshine or the comforting glow of a lab burner, but something primal and consuming that tears through my veins like a sentient force. It radiates from my core in merciless waves, each more powerful than the last, my biology exacting revenge for five years of chemical rebellion with catastrophic intensity.

Imprisoned within Nezzar's muscular coils in this vapor-shrouded chamber, I'm suffocating in my own treacherous flesh. The suppressants aren't merely failing—they're violently collapsing, triggering a hormonal backlash that feels like being flayed from within. Every nerve ending screams with hypersensitivity, my skin burning beneath his cool scales.

"Let me go," I rasp, the words scraping my throat raw. Another surge of heat crashes through me, drawing an involuntary moan as wetness floods the junction of my thighs. "God—I can't?—"

"Your body contradicts you," Nezzar interrupts, his melodious voice now rough with desire. "Your scent is triggering my rut. Alpha responding to omega. Evolutionary law reclaiming what chemistry suppressed."

His sinuous length shifts against me, scales rasping over my hypersensitive skin through damp clothing. Each contact point ignites fresh arousal I mentally reject yet physically crave. My nipples tighten painfully, my inner walls contracting around emptiness as more slick forms in humiliating preparation.

The chamber itself resembles a fever dream—clearly designed for claiming purposes. Living walls exhale moisture into the already saturated atmosphere, creating the sensation of drowning on dry land. Bioluminescent flora cast everything in ethereal blue-green illumination, their radiance reflecting off the iridescent scales spreading across Nezzar's form as his rut intensifies. Mineral pools release scented vapor that somehow amplifies both his earthy musk and my omega sweetness, creating an olfactory feedback loop short-circuiting rational thought.

I attempt to maintain scientific detachment—cataloging symptoms, reciting molecular formulas mentally—anything to preserve some control. It succeeds for precisely three seconds before another violent wave of heat obliterates coherent thought. This surge buckles my knees entirely, wetness soaking through my pants. Only Nezzar's supporting coils prevent complete collapse.

"Your heat progression is extraordinary," he observes, his tongue flickering repeatedly to sample my intensifying pheromones, vertical pupils expanding with predatory focus. "Five years of suppression creating optimal biological response."

"I'm not your laboratory specimen," I snarl, clinging to anger as the sole emotion potentially saving me from supplication.

His smile reveals teeth too pointed to be anything but terrifying. "No. You're my omega."

Before I can formulate a response, his coils tighten with ruthless efficiency, repositioning me against his massive lower body. I find myself partially reclined, legs forced apart by powerful muscular loops encircling my thighs. When I struggle, the pressure increases just enough to ensure bruising, a silent demonstration of how easily he could crush me.

That's when I witness it happening.

A concealed slit in his lower body opens, revealing twin organs that freeze me in primal terror and unwilling fascination. They emerge from their protective sheath like nightmare and fantasy combined—thick, textured with ridges designed for internal stimulation, glistening with viscous secretion that captures the bioluminescent light with pearlescent shimmer. At their bases, I notice a subtle bulge on each shaft—currently only slight swellings, but my omega instincts recognize what they'll become: knots, designed to lock an alpha inside his mate, ensuring successful breeding.

"You can't possibly expect me to accommodate... that," I choke out, renewed panic lending strength to fight against restraints that remain immovable. More wetness forms between my thighs, contradicting everything I profess with humiliating eagerness. "This isn't happening. I'm not what you think?—"

My protests terminate as Nezzar's coils constrict abruptly, stealing my breath. One powerful section forces itself between my thighs, spreading them with merciless efficiency that will leave evidence for days.

"Your body was designed for this purpose," he hisses, voice transformed to something barely recognizable. Emerald scales ripple across his torso and shoulders like living armor, eyes blazing gold with vertical pupils contracted to hairline slits. His tongue samples the air rapidly, tasting my fear and arousal with equal hunger. "It will expand for me, contain me, and bear my mark internally."

He tears away my clothing with savage impatience—fabric shredding, fasteners scattering across the chamber floor. I'm suddenly, humiliatingly exposed while he looms above me, inhuman and overwhelming. The humid air caresses my bare skin like countless unwanted touches, my nipples hardening painfully, my empty passage clenching around nothingness.

"Don't," I manage, my final pitiful attempt at dignity while my body contradicts every syllable. Fresh wetness forms between my thighs, releasing omega submission signals so potent even my limited human senses detect them. "Please, not?—"

"Begging already?" His laugh contains no mirth, only predatory satisfaction. "Reserve your pleas for when my cocks fill you. You'll require them then." One scaled hand grips my jaw, forcing eye contact. "Your heat cannot be denied, only fulfilled. And I refuse to waste your potential in a breeding center."

Before I can process this twisted version of mercy, his coils reposition me with ruthless precision. I'm bent forward, hips elevated, face pressed against his scales, presented like wildlife for mating. The position should mortify me, but all I experience is another rush of wetness, my omega physiology overriding years of independence with primal readiness.

I feel them then—twin tips pressing against my entrance, cool and slick with alien secretion. They're massive, textured with ridges designed for internal stimulation, and there are two of them. My rational mind knows they cannot possibly fit. My omega body weeps in eager anticipation.

"Wait—" The word dissolves into a scream as he drives both organs into me with one merciless thrust.

The invasion feels like violence incarnate—twin shafts stretching me beyond capacity, occupying spaces inside me I didn't know existed. Pain and pleasure blur into something unrecognizable as my body frantically accommodates what should be physically impossible. Every ridge and texture along his lengths drags against nerve endings evolved specifically for this claiming, sending contradictory signals of violation and fulfillment to my overwhelmed brain.

"Fuck!" I shriek, the expletive torn from my throat as he sheathes himself completely, the bases of his cocks pressed against me where I can feel the knots beginning to swell. I'm impaled, filled, stretched beyond endurance—his twin organs so deep I swear I can feel them in my diaphragm.

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