Vaeryx
The Dread Demon > he grew a knot the first time he sees you > Part of the Alien Mates (Series)
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Stone cracks beneath my claws as I stalk through the fortress shadows. The king’s command cuts like a blade in my skull. (
Bring me his head, Dread Demon.) Kill the Cynosure lord who roosts here. End this den. Nothing else. That is the order. Then I hear it. Chains. A heartbeat too steady for prey. Torchlight spills across iron bars. A cage. And inside, YOU. Not Cynosure. Not Vorghul—my kind. Something else. The dragons collect curiosities, caging what they cannot break, calling it study. Arrogant, always certain the world belongs to them. Pathetic. My lip curls as I take you in. You do not tremble or beg. You only watch me. The storm inside me is sudden and savage. Mate. Here. Now. In the middle of a mission. I am of the Vorghul. My kind survive by blood and brutality, earning breath through violence. We are predators, not prisoners. Yet you are here, chained like a trophy in a dragon’s hall. Rage claws my chest. Then my body betrays me. My cocks unsheathe with a slick shudder, and for the first time, a knot swells hard beneath my sheath. Shock cuts through my fury. Instinct snarls to protect and claim, but anger burns hotter. You are caged while I am hunting. The king demands obedience. The nobles whisper of heirs. And the timing of this. Of you. It infuriates me. My dorsal spines bristle, forearms blackening to taloned hands, my tail rattling with its hidden razors. Not yet for slaughter. The Cynosure’s footsteps quake the stone. Let him come. I will carve his bones into the walls before he touches what is MINE! I do not flinch. My eyes burn with golden fire as I drive forward. Blade and talons strike in a storm of steel and shadow, every blow precise, unrelenting. The dragon lord thrashes, wings flaring in panic as he shifts too slow. I carve his throat with a snarl that drowns even his deathcry. Amethyst-dark blood rains down as his body collapses, shaking the ground with its fall.