"You can take everything I give you," he says with absolute certainty. "Your omega body was made for this. Made to stretch and accommodate and accept whatever your alpha demands."
When his finger slides inside me, I nearly black out from the relief. But it's not enough—nowhere near enough. I need more,need something bigger, need to be filled and claimed and bred until this terrible emptiness stops.
"More," I gasp, clutching at his massive shoulders. "Please, I need more."
"Soon," he promises, adding another finger that makes me cry out. "But first, I'm going to teach you exactly what it means to surrender to a Fae alpha."
Fae alpha. The words echo in my heat-addled brain as his fingers work inside me, stretching me carefully while his thumb finds the sensitive bundle of nerves that makes me scream with pleasure.
I'm about to be claimed by something inhuman. Something ancient and powerful and utterly otherworldly. And instead of terror, all I feel is desperate anticipation.
"That's it," he murmurs as I fall apart around his fingers. "Let go, omega. Show me how perfectly you respond to your alpha's touch."
So I do. I let go of everything—my scientific denial, my human pride, my desperate need to be more than my biology. I let the omega nature I've fought for so long take control, and it feels like coming home.
"Good girl," he praises, and the words make my body clench with renewed need. "Such a perfect little omega. Ready to learn what it really means to belong to a Fae?"
I nod desperately, beyond words. Beyond everything except the need to be his.
"Then let me show you," he says, and there's promise in his voice that makes my whole body shiver with anticipation.
His hands move to the hem of his shirt, and when he pulls it over his head, I gasp. His chest is magnificent—broad and powerful, with skin that seems to glow with its own inner light. But when he leans down to kiss me, his mouth claiming minewith devastating thoroughness, I remember this is only the second time we've kissed.
Everything is so new. Every sensation, every touch, every response my body makes—it's all uncharted territory. When his tongue slides against mine, longer and more dexterous than any human tongue should be, I whimper at the unfamiliar pleasure.
"I love the sounds you make," he murmurs against my lips. "Every gasp, every moan—they're all mine. All new."
He's right. No one has ever heard me make these sounds before because no one has ever made me feel like this. The kisses become deeper, more demanding, and I can taste something wild and green on his tongue that makes my head spin.
But it's what happens next that steals my breath completely.
Vines begin emerging from his forearms, unfurling like living tattoos coming to life. They're beautiful—deep green with small flowers that bloom as I watch, releasing a scent that makes my mouth water and my pussy clench with desperate need.
"Don't be afraid," he murmurs, though I'm anything but afraid. I'm fascinated, aroused, desperate to know what those vines can do to me. "This is part of what I am. Part of what makes me Vine Court."
The vines move with their own intelligence, reaching for me with obvious intent. When the first one traces along my collarbone, I cry out at the sensation. It's like being touched by silk and velvet and the promise of pleasure all at once.
"The flowers," I gasp as another vine trails down my arm, leaving blooms in its wake. "They smell like..."
"Like everything you've ever craved," he finishes. "Fertility magic, concentrated and designed specifically for omega pleasure."
More vines emerge, and suddenly I'm surrounded by them. They caress my skin with perfect pressure, learning everysensitive spot while the flowers release their intoxicating scent directly onto my fevered flesh.
"Oh God," I moan as a vine traces around my nipple, the flower at its tip releasing pollen that makes the sensitive peak throb with need. "What are they doing to me?"
"Preparing you," he says simply. "Learning your body. Finding every place that makes you scream with pleasure."
And they are learning. The vines map my skin with methodical thoroughness, cataloging every gasp and moan as they discover what makes me respond. When one finds the spot where my neck meets my shoulder, I arch desperately, and immediately three more converge on the area.
"Please," I beg as the sensations build. The pollen from the flowers is like an aphrodisiac, making every touch feel magnified. "I can't... it's too much..."
"You can take it," he says with absolute certainty. "Watch."
A vine trails down my stomach toward the place between my legs where I'm dripping with need. But instead of touching me there directly, it traces patterns around my inner thighs, coming so close to where I need it that I'm sobbing with frustration.
"Please touch me," I beg. "I need it so badly."
"Where?" he asks, though his golden eyes tell me he knows exactly where. "Tell me what you need, omega."
