Page 15 of Naga's Mate

His scales ripple slightly—a naga expression I'm beginning to recognize as amusement. "You no longer require suppressants, little scientist. But should you reference your previous work, I would be... curious to examine your methodology. Few humans have achieved such effective formulations."

Of course. He wants my resistance contacts, my suppressant formulas, everything I've dedicated years to developing to help omegas avoid exactly the fate I now endure. I turn away, disgust replacing my momentary scientific excitement.

"You want me to betray everything I've worked for."

"I want you to continue working," he corrects, approaching a specialized containment unit at the far end of the laboratory. "Your focus simply requires adjustment."

He activates the unit, revealing something that immediately recaptures my attention despite my resistance. Inside rests a species I've only glimpsed in classified research files—a night-bloomingOphidia luminara, previously too toxic for humans to study closely. Its phosphorescent petals emit a gentle radiance that pulses with its respiratory cycle, while the chemical signatures I can now perceive thanks to the venom enhancement appear as complex auras surrounding each bloom.

"This specimen has resisted traditional analysis," Nezzar explains, observing my undisguised fascination with those predatory eyes. "Its medicinal properties remain theoretical rather than verified. Perhaps your... unique perspective might yield results where others have failed."

My pulse quickens with scientific excitement I can't suppress. TheOphidia luminarais rumored to contain compounds that could revolutionize neurological treatments if successfully isolated. Research restrictions have prevented thorough study by human scientists, and its extreme toxicity means only nagas can handle it directly.

But with my venom-enhanced perception...

I catch myself, horrified at how easily I'm being manipulated. "You seek to distract me with interesting specimens while I remain your captive."

"I seek to utilize your abilities while providing purpose beyond breeding," he counters smoothly. "Unless you prefer idleness between heat cycles? That can be arranged."

The threat isn't explicit, but it doesn't need to be. Without work, without purpose, I'll have nothing but endless days of waiting for my next heat, with only claiming to break the monotony. My mind would fracture under such conditions, and we both recognize this reality.

"May I?" I ask, hating myself for the request but unable to resist the scientific opportunity before me.

He gestures permission, and I approach the containment unit. With careful precision, I activate the analysis probe that allows examination without direct contact. The readouts confirm what my enhanced senses already detected—complex chemical structures unlike anything in standard botanical databases.

"The venom adaptation has permanently altered your perception," Nezzar observes as I study the specimen. "You can visualize chemical signatures invisible to unmodified humans, can't you?"

I hesitate, reluctant to share anything that might reveal the full extent of my physiological changes. "Things appear... different."

"Describe it," he presses, moving closer until his scales brush against my arm, sending unwanted awareness through my nervous system.

"Auras," I finally admit, seeing no reason to hide what he clearly already suspects. "Chemical signatures manifest as colored halos around active compounds. The intensity corresponds with potency."

Rather than responding immediately, Nezzar retrieves a second specimen from another containment unit—this one a common medicinal herb used in basic remedies.

"And this?" he asks, placing it beside the exotic bloom.

"Unremarkable," I reply automatically. "Basic anti-inflammatory compounds, mild analgesic properties. The aura appears pale green, barely perceptible."

His expression shifts to something I can't quite interpret—satisfaction mingled with scientific interest. "Fascinating. Your adaptation exceeds expectations. Most claimed omegas develop enhanced scent perception, but visual detection of chemical structures is exceptionally rare."

Reluctantly, I ask the question that's troubled me since my heat concluded. "Is this... permanent?"

"The venom creates irreversible neural changes in compatible omegas," he explains, examining me with that unsettling combination of scientific curiosity and possessive satisfaction. "Your uncommonly strong reaction suggests genetic predisposition toward adaptation. The changes will not only persist but likely intensify with continued exposure."

Rather than feeling disturbed by this information as I should, the scientist in me finds it fascinating despite my continued resentment of my captivity. The implications for research are profound—direct visual perception of chemical structures could transform botanical medicine.

"You're not horrified," Nezzar observes, tongue sampling my emotional response in the air. "You find it intriguing."

"The scientist in me does," I admit reluctantly. "The woman in me fears becoming something other than human."

"Not other than human," he corrects, one scaled hand lightly touching my shoulder in a possessive gesture that sends unwanted warmth through my body. "Enhanced human. Evolution accelerated through biochemical intervention."

For the remainder of the day, I immerse myself in preliminary analysis of the specimens. Despite everything, the work provides welcome distraction from my circumstances. My enhanced senses reveal patterns in theOphidia luminara's structure that would be invisible to standard human perception—chemical pathways suggesting applications beyond anything previously documented.

Nezzar observes my work with genuine interest, occasionally offering insights from naga botanical knowledge humans have never been granted access to. His understanding of chemical interactions surpasses anything I've encountered in human research literature, suggesting depths of scientific knowledge that contradict the primitive image nagas cultivate among humans.

"The sequential binding pattern indicates neurotransmitter interaction," I note, momentarily forgetting my circumstances as scientific discovery takes precedence over personal trauma.

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