The Dragon Rebellion (M-Preg)

Chapter Five: Choices

Kincaid's morá throbbed in response. He remained seated, but called out to him. "Reid."

Reid's eyes snapped open at the Naerian's voice and head jolted in his direction. When he noticed his pair sitting there, he began to move. Fast. Reid raced for Kincaid, ready to pounce, but the chain on his ankle kept him a few feet out of reach.

Reid mewled in desperation and Kincaid knew it was begging, even without words being expressed.

But he also knew that this was not what the redrya wanted. It was only his instincts, so Kincaid refused to mate him.

He just hoped that his willpower would last for the rest of the Rut.

*

His body was betraying him. Every part of him screamed in protest with each inch he dragged himself away. He needed to be closer, smell that unearthly scent that clung to his nostrils mercilessly promising sweet release and unending happiness.

Just give in, his body begged.

He needed him like he needed air to breathe. To drink him in like a glass of water after years in the desert. He needed him so badly, he thought he just might die.

And maybe he would. The Ruts were never this bad before. Uncomfortable to say the least, but not unbearable.

No.

This was something else entirely. Like his blood was melting through his skin. A fever that would end him in the slowest, most painful way possible. He just wanted it to end. But to end this pain now meant the end of another.

His rebellion.

And he promised.

He swore he would not let the Naerians get the best of him. But as the seconds ticked by, and his body craved like nothing he had ever experienced, his fire slowly started to die. The fight in him vanished. He was tired. So very tired.

"Em...kii," Reid groaned.

The Naerian made no move toward him at the sound of his pair calling him. Just stared with those strange alien eyes. Those Dragon eyes, with slitted pupils and reptilian grace.

"Emkii," Reid whispered. His voice cracking as tears welled up in his eyes.

Please.

*

Kincaid clenched the armchair tightly, the wood splintering in his grip. His morá throbbed that hot, dark red, filled with lust.

"I will not touch you," Kincaid gritted out. It was hard for him to contain himself. With the overwhelming scent of Reid's Rut and waves of pheromones pouring off of him, it was close to impossible. Every cell in his body was urging him to mate. Take the offering that was so sweetly displayed before him. Begging. Actually begging to be taken.

Kincaid's jaw was clenched so tightly, the pain was actually giving him a headache. He didn't know how much longer he could fight against his instincts. Rules be damned, he needed to leave. But one look at his mate had him hesitating.

He couldn't leave.

Not when Reid was like this. Not when he needed him so badly. Though he was not touching him. The scent of him eased the redrya's Rut...just a little. If Kincaid were to leave him like this? The results would be catastrophic...for both of them.

Pelryn had told Kincaid before that if Ruts were left unattended between fated pairs, some redrya snapped and took their own lives. Death was a mercy, the better alternative than endurance.

This is why Kincaid didn't want a mate. The responsibility was too much.

"Emkii! Emkii! Emkii!" Reid sobbed from the bed. Tears streaming from those dark eyes, filled with such desperation and pain. His hips rocked, back arched, fingers trembled as he spread his cheeks apart, beckoning the Naerian with what would have been the beautiful sight of his birthing sheath as it dripped with fluid if the angle was right. Maybe it was a blessing in disguise that he could not see it. Who knows how his resolve would have held? Still...

Kincaid squeezed his eyes shut but the image was burned into his mind so clearly, he'd dream about it tonight.

"Reid," Kincaid began, eyes still closed.

Reid moaned at the sound of his voice.

Kincaid swallowed noisily before sucking in a deep pheromone filled breath.

"Reid," Kincaid started again. "Do you really want this?"

"Need! Need! Need!" Reid screamed, sinking deeper into his arch, spreading himself further, beautiful skin glimmering. The darkness nearly spread over his entire body, enveloping the brown, twinkling with tiny specks of blues, golds, oranges, pinks, reds, purples, yellows, greens.

Kincaid swore when he opened his eyes to the feast. How could he possibly deny this? How could he reject this offer? It went against his very nature.

Against his better judgement, Kincaid stood, making a move toward the bed. Reid whimpered eagerly, eyes burning as he tracked Kincaid's every movement.

It was that gaze that told Kincaid he shouldn't do this.

And against all of his screaming instincts, throbbing morá...he turned and left.