"It seems your perverted little body wants the adventures of my fingers tonight, little omega..."

The silver radiance of the lamp caught the fine, glistening layer of her own omega moisture coating her index finger—a clear, viscous fluid that carried the concentrated, heavy sweetness of a wild floral nectar.

Slowly, deliberately, Dorrent drew her trembling hand backward. His eyes, completely overtaken by a dilated, crimson-flecked blackness, never broke contact with her dazed, terror-stricken pupils. He opened his mouth, the sharp edge of his white teeth catching the silver light, and brought her damp finger past his lips.

He licked the fluid from her skin with a slow, agonizingly delicate sweep of his tongue, tasting the chemical signature of her arousal. Jannah’s breath caught in her throat, a soft, broken sound dying before it could leave her lips as she felt the wet texture of his mouth consuming the evidence of her body’s ultimate treason.

Then, his jaw shifted. Keeping her finger deeply embedded between his lips, Dorrent began to move his mouth and tongue in a slow, rhythmic, and heavy thrusting motion, sliding her finger in and out against his palate with a graphic, unmistakable simulation of a primitive penetration. The wet, sliding friction of his mouth around her finger filled the small space between their faces, an unholy, quiet sound that made the blood roar in Jannah’s ears like a localized thunderstorm.

With a sudden, violent contraction of his arm muscles, Dorrent yanked her rigid, shivering frame backward. He slammed her spine flat against the wall of his chest, his left arm locking around her slim waist with the absolute, bone-crushing leverage of an iron vise. The short white linen towel she wore rode up even further, exposing the full curve of her pale hips to the cool air, but the heat radiating from his torso was staggering, pinning her in place until she felt completely enveloped by his dominant frequency.

"Tell me, little omega," Dorrent whispered, his voice dropping into a thick, gravelly register that rattled directly through her shoulder blades, his hot breath washing over the sensitive skin of her ear. He withdrew her finger from his mouth with a wet, deliberate pop, his hand sliding down to grip her hip bone until his fingers dug into the flesh. "Would you like me to use my fingers on you tonight? Hm? Is that what you were doing in the dark while you watched the screen?"

Jannah’s teeth bit down hard into her inner cheek, her hands coming up to grasp his forearm as she tried to put a fraction of a millimeter of space between them. Her body was completely tensed, vibrating with a chaotic, volatile mix of acute terror and a deep, systemic anger that threatened to choke her.

"Did you imagine Joanne as you?" Dorrent purred, his low, rumbling chuckle vibrating with a terrifying, absolute triumph. He tilted her head back against his shoulder, his eyes boring into her dazed, flushed face. "Did you look at how my hand was opening her up and wish it was your tight, weeping little core taking the friction? Let me tell you a secret, Jannah... if it had been your pale, delicious body on that digital screen tonight, it wouldn’t have just ended with my fingers inside you. I would have torn you apart until you begged me to stop."

A fierce, unyielding madness flared behind Jannah’s dark eyes. The raw, arrogant pride radiating from his every word was an insult to the memory of her family, an unbearable weight that she refused to carry. Yes, her treacherous flesh had craved those fingers. Yes, her body had responded to the graphic exhibition on the tablet with a sudden, humiliating wave of wetness—but that was the treason of her evolutionary biology, not her mind. It was her body’s weakness, not her.

And more importantly, she held a hidden weapon in her mind.

She knew the secret of the breakfast table. She knew the absolute, clinical potency of her grandfather’s lore. No matter how towering his S-tier pride was right now, no matter how much his dominant pheromones attempted to choke her, his male anatomy was currently a useless fortress. He was biologically incapable of achieving an erection under the dampening effects of that herb. He was nothing but a magnificent, empty shadow.

A wicked, cold calculation crystallized inside her chest. She would lower his pride. She would dismantle his structural dominance right here in the room, allowing him to walk to the very edge of his desire only to face the crushing, pathetic reality of his own impotence before her.

"Then why use your fingers, Alpha?" Jannah whispered, her voice suddenly shifting into a smooth, level murmur that dripped with a dangerous, false compliance. She stopped struggling against his arm, letting her head rest back against his shoulder as she looked up at him through the dark mass of her hair. Her breath was shallow, her heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs. "If you are so powerful... why don’t you start with using your cock? Use your manhood inside me first... and you can play with your fingers later."

Dorrent’s entire frame went entirely rigid. His eyes narrowed, a sharp flash of genuine surprise cutting through the dark cloud of his lust as he processed the sudden, uncharacteristic submission of his stubborn little physician. For a split second, the cold, calculating CEO within him questioned the sudden shift—but the raw, intoxicating scent of her true omega pheromones, heavy and sweet with her body’s natural moisture, completely obliterated his capacity for administrative logic. He didn’t have the time or the sanity to analyze her motives when given a direct, explicit chance to feel like a complete man again with the only woman who had ever broken his curse.

"Careful what you wish for, gutter-rat," Dorrent growled, his voice dipping into a feral, animalistic register.

With a single, violent downward jerk of his right hand, he ripped the white linen towel completely from her body, throwing the fabric into the shadows of the floor. Jannah let out a quiet, sharp gasp as her naked, marked form was fully exposed to the silver lamplight. Before she could even adjust her balance, Dorrent hoisted her weight and threw her heavily onto the center of the mattress.

He stood over the edge of the bed, his broad chest heaving as his hands moved to the buttons of his shirt. His face was a mask of pure, unyielding execution, his silver eyes flaring with an angry, possessive hunger that made him look more like a conqueror than a sex partner.

"I highly doubt you’ll be able to walk out of this room today, Jannah," Dorrent murmured, his voice a flat, freezing promise as he tore the silk shirt from his shoulders, exposing the massive, heavily muscled topography of his torso. He unbuckled his belt, his movements frantic yet heavy with an untouchable authority. "In fact... I think you might just die under me tonight if you think you can handle the full weight of my indulgence again."

Jannah lay flat against the silk sheets, her legs slightly drawn up as she watched him strip away his trousers in the dark. A sudden, cold spike of instinctive dread pierced through her calculated calm. He looked furious. He looked like an apex predator intent on breaking her into physical pieces to punish her for her defiance. But she forced her mind to remain anchored in her clinical knowledge. She had used the ghost-thistle extract on a variety of dominant Alphas in the lower districts during her time as an underground physician; she had seen it flatten the biology of the most vicious gang leaders within two hours of ingestion. It worked. It always worked.

Dorrent discarded the last of his clothes, his towering physique completely naked under the light. He crawled onto the mattress, his knees pinning her thighs apart as he hovered directly over her fragile, shivering frame. The sheer, overwhelming bulk of his chest blocked out the vanity lamp, burying her in his shadow.

He reached down, his hands hooking beneath her knees, lifting her slender legs high and draping them over his waist. He leaned his full weight forward, bringing her swollen, wet entrance directly against the tip of his completely relaxed manhood.

"Let’s see how loud you can scream when I don’t hold back," Dorrent rasped, his head dipping downward as he pressed his lips firmly against her pale collarbone, his wet tongue licking and nipping at the purple marks he had left before.

But the very instant his skin made contact with hers, a catastrophic shift occurred within his biological matrix.

The proximity of her wet, weeping core against his skin acted like a localized lightning strike to his S-tier neural pathways. The ghost-thistle extract, powerful enough to subdue a standard Alpha, was completely incinerated by the sheer, unprecedented volume of the unique genetic compatibility between their bloodlines. Down below, Jannah felt a sudden, terrifying pressure.

Just like that, his cock started awakening.

Within a matter of three breathless heartbeats, the flaccid length began to rapidly thicken, expanding with a sudden, immense rush of hot, pressurized blood that turned the flesh rock-hard and pulsing with an unholy heat against her swollen opening. The veiny shaft grew wider, longer, and incredibly rigid, the blunt tip nudging against her fragile threshold with a heavy, unyielding weight that threatened to force its way inside without a single inch of preparation.

Jannah’s eyes flew wide open, her pupils dilating into absolute, unadulterated terror as she felt the massive, blistering ridge of his manhood thickening between her thighs. Her heart shattered against her ribs. The herbs... my herbs are not functioning! her mind shrieked in absolute panic. The structural data had failed; his S-tier biology was too monstrous, too anomalous to be subdued by the swamp medicine.

She couldn’t let this happen. She couldn’t let him take her again while her mind was lucid, breaking her body and her pride into pieces while he laughed at her defiance. She had to escape the trap, no matter the cost to her own flesh.

Deep within the specialized training her grandfather had beaten into her memory, there was a radical emergency protocol—a hidden, self-induced neural override designed to mimic absolute biological collapse when a physician was captured by enemy factions.

Jannah didn’t hesitate. With a frantic, desperate internal movement, she rolled her tongue backward, her teeth finding a highly specific, hyper-sensitive neuro-vascular pressure point hidden beneath the deep lateral tissue of her upper palate.

She bit down on the point with every single ounce of her remaining physical strength.

The impact was a silent, internal explosion. A sharp, freezing jolt of pure neural static shot straight up her brain stem, instantly severing the electrical connections to her conscious mind. Within a fraction of a millisecond, her vision went completely black. Her gasping breath died in her throat, her chest flattening as her long, pale limbs went entirely limp, her head snapping to the side against the pillows as her body slumped into a perfectly still, cold, and unresponsive state of unconsciousness.

The sudden, total evaporation of her internal tension registered instantly in Dorrent’s senses. The frantic quivering of her entrance vanished, replaced by a cold, loose stillness that felt like ice against his pulsing shaft.

Dorrent froze in mid-stroke, his head snapping up from her collarbone, his breathing ragged and covered in sweat as he stared down at her face. Her eyes were closed, her lips parted and pale, her skin rapidly losing its flushed, feverish warmth as she lay completely motionless beneath his frame.

The raging furnace in his blood turned to pure stone in an instant. He pulled his manhood back from her opening, his hands shaking slightly as he clamped them onto her cold shoulders, shaking her fragile frame against the mattress.

"Jannah?" Dorrent called out, his deep voice cracking, dropping into a rough, panicked rasp that echoed loudly against the quiet walls of the room. "Jannah! Open your eyes!"