Page 14 of Naga's Mate

As consciousness fades, one terrible truth follows me into dreams—the venom has transformed me in ways I don't yet fully comprehend. My heightened sensitivity to Nezzar's presence, my body's continued response to his proximity, the way my senses seem sharper than before my heat—all suggest neural pathways rewired by biochemistry I've never encountered in my research.

I am a scientist who has become her own experiment. A researcher now researched. An observer transformed into the observed.

And somewhere beneath the fear and resentment lies the most terrifying question of all: how much of myself will remain when the transformation completes?

CHAPTER7

LABORATORY PRIVILEGES

A weekof captivity passes with unsettling ease. My body accommodates Nezzar's claiming—now a daily occurrence since my heat subsided—with an eagerness that fills me with shame. The venom dependency isn't merely psychological; it's etched into my nervous system, a biochemical addiction more potent than any substance I've ever studied. Each evening when his muscular length enfolds me, my flesh responds before my mind can even formulate protest.

Seven days in this new existence, and already my former life seems more dreamlike than real.

I've dedicated my waking hours to mapping my prison, learning its patterns, probing its boundaries. The quarters represent a masterpiece of environmental design—self-sustaining ecological systems nested within larger ones, precise temperature and humidity gradients that accommodate both naga physiology and human tolerance. Under different circumstances, I would be captivated. Under these, I search desperately for vulnerabilities to exploit.

There are none. At least, none within my detection capabilities.

This morning begins like the others—awakening within Nezzar's loose coils, his scales cool against my skin despite the tropical warmth of our chambers. I've been provided with simple garments suited to the elevated temperatures, though he still prefers me unclothed during our nightly encounters. Another small "allowance" that feels more like psychological manipulation than mercy.

"You're growing restless," Nezzar observes as I disentangle myself from his coils. His tongue samples the air between us, tasting my emotional state. "Your mind requires stimulation beyond these quarters."

I remain silent. What response could I offer? That I miss my research? That I crave purpose beyond serving as his personal breeding vessel? That I lie awake calculating increasingly improbable escape scenarios?

He rises to his full height—all seven imposing feet of his humanoid torso, not counting the massive serpentine body below—and examines me with those disquieting amber eyes. "Come. I have something to show you."

My venom-enhanced senses immediately detect the shift in his pheromones—not desire or dominance, but something I'm beginning to recognize as anticipation. Curious despite myself, I follow as he guides me toward a section of the chambers we haven't explored. The living wall here differs from the others—densely populated with specimens that appear arranged with scientific methodology rather than aesthetic consideration.

"Botanical classification patterns," I murmur, recognizing the organizational system despite myself. "Medicinal properties sequenced by compound potency."

"You perceive it," he says, sounding almost pleased. "Few would identify the pattern."

"I'm a botanist," I remind him, hating how easily I slip into conversation despite my captivity. "Or I was, before..."

"Before I claimed you?" he completes, his melodious voice expressing neither cruelty nor apology. "You remain a botanist, Lyra. Your mind belongs to you, even if your body belongs to me under Conquest law."

My name in his mouth still startles me. He rarely uses it, preferring possessive terms—"my omega," "little scientist," "mine." Hearing my actual name feels strangely intimate, somehow more invasive than the claiming itself.

He presses his scaled palm against a section of the wall that appears identical to the surrounding area. The plants shift and retract, revealing a concealed entrance I never would have detected without seeing it activated. Beyond lies something I never expected to find in a naga's private domain.

A laboratory. Not just any laboratory, but one equipped with advanced botanical research technologies I've only encountered in restricted files. Specialized analysis equipment. Cultivation chambers for volatile specimens. Molecular imaging systems worth more than most humans earn in decades.

"What is this?" I whisper, unable to conceal my astonishment.

"Your new workspace," Nezzar replies simply, monitoring my reaction with those predatory eyes. "Your intellect remains valuable beyond your heat cycles. Continue your research under my supervision."

I step inside, professional instinct overriding caution as I survey the equipment. My fingers trace surfaces that would have been forbidden in my previous position. A molecular spectrometer calibrated specifically for botanical compounds. A cultivation chamber designed for specimens too toxic for direct human handling. Analysis systems that could process chemical structures in hours instead of weeks.

"This is... extensive," I manage, scientific wonder competing with suspicion. "Why provide this?"

"Consider it mutual advantage," he says, his length gliding smoothly across the specially designed floor. "Your research abilities are wasted if applied only to suppressant creation. Here, you can explore genuine botanical advancement while remaining where you belong."

The limitation becomes immediately obvious as I examine the space. The laboratory connects only to his quarters, with no independent exit. Any work I conduct will be monitored, and I remain his claimed property in all ways that matter under Conquest law. A longer tether, but a tether nonetheless.

"What would I even study?" I ask, my fingers itching despite myself to touch the equipment, to lose myself in the work that defined my identity before capture.

"Whatever captures your interest," he responds with a casual gesture, "within reasonable parameters. Your previous focus on medicinal compounds seems a natural continuation."

I narrow my eyes, suspicion displacing wonder. "And my suppressant research? I assume that's forbidden."

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