by Zoey Ellis
Marahl never told her she couldn’t leave the room, just told her not to get in the way. So she began to explore.
Although the lair looked similar to Nyro’s, the layout was completely different. Farther down from the washroom were a number of empty quarters and a storage room. Down a few more corridors were large rooms that seemed suitable for lounges or group activities, but they appeared unused. One of the rooms she came across had various items on display, almost like a gallery. But the items were not ancient artifacts she expected to see in a dragorai lair, but rather common items like forks and goblets that had been made recently—items that no longer were in use anymore but had once been. She was surprised to see a dagger with the northern king’s insignia on it and a set of cutlery that had the southern queen’s emblem. Very strange. Why would anyone want to keep this here?
She continued to walk down the corridors, alarmed at how quiet it was until she realized she had no idea how to get back to her quarters. Cursing, she continued on, hoping she would see someone who would be able to help her find her way back.
Finally she turned into a corridor to see a young woman who looked a little younger than she, dressed in a brown tunic, cleaning one of the lamp stands in the corridor. She didn’t notice Elora until she was almost right next to her.
“Good day,” Elora said, somewhat shyly. “I’m new here, I just wanted to say hello—”
As she spoke, the girl’s eyes widened and she began to scrub quicker.
Elora frowned, her voice faltering. “There’s no need to be afraid of me,” she said hesitantly. “I just—”
The girl grabbed her cleaning equipment and hurried along the corridor in the opposite direction.
Elora watched her go, puzzled by what just happened. Was she threatening in some way? She glanced down at herself. She wore a similar tunic but in grey, the same slippers, and she was a little shorter than the woman. Sighing, she shrugged it off and continued down the corridor, looking for someone else, but soon discovered it wasn’t just the young woman who’d behaved strangely. All of the servants Elora came across avoided her, either hurrying away when they saw her coming or ignoring her altogether. Elora’s hope struggled to remain strong in the face of their attitudes. Clearly they had all heard something about her, but what would cause them to run away? She tried to find an area where servants were relaxing, where they would be more easygoing and maybe explain things to her, but there was no such place. Everywhere she turned, servants were working; cleaning, polishing, folding fabrics, sweeping, washing… All the things she’d seen before in the other lair, but with a different energy. No one smiled; they all focused heavily on their work and barely spoke. No laughter or chatter filled the corridors. This was not at all like Nyro’s lair; there was no sense of community here at all.
Elora wandered around the hall and corridors trying to find her way back to her quarters, which was proving more difficult than she anticipated. If no one would speak to her, how would she find her way back?
As she was making her way down another corridor she thought she recognized, the whole lair trembled. Elora gasped, grabbing for the wall as she stumbled. But there was nothing to hold onto—the walls were smooth. She pressed herself up against it, her heart pounding as another three trembles shook the corridor, each getting progressively worse.
A young male servant in a green tunic skidded into the corridor and ran down it, trying not to fall as everything shook.
“What’s happening?” Elora called to him as he passed.
His eyes were wide as they locked onto her. “He’s back.”
She didn’t need to ask who. “I can’t find my way back to my quarters,” she said as the man stumbled passed her. “Can you help me?”
The man paused, peering at her. “Stay here. I’ll get someone to come and help you.”
“Thank you,” she called after him.
She slid down the wall and huddled on the floor and hugged her knees, watching him stagger to the end of the corridor and then turn the corner. There was something uncontrollable about this that made her uncomfortable. It was similar to when bombs dropped in the North Cities, filling the air with unbreathable smoke and shaking the ground. It wasn’t something anyone could prepare for or something that could be controlled. And she hated it.
But after a few moments, the trembling stopped. Elora held herself still, keeping her breathing steady. Whatever just happened was not normal. Mountains weren’t supposed to shake, especially not ones that held lairs for the dragorai.
As she got to her feet, Marahl strode round the corner. “There you are,” she said, a harsh annoyance in her tone. “I told you that you would be better entertained by staying in your room and not disturbing any of the other servants.”
Elora stared at her incredulously. “Didn’t you feel the mountain trembling? What was that?”
Marahl exhaled a heavy breath. “Follow me,” she said, turning and heading back the way she came.
Elora followed her. “Is that normal? That trembling of the mountain? Are we safe here?”
“We are safe,” Marahl said firmly. “It’s just something that happens sometimes. It’s nothing to worry about.”
“The mountain doesn’t become unstable?”
“You don’t have to worry about anything like that. All of the mountains that house dragorai lairs are structurally sound and reinforced with magic.”
Elora relaxed a little. “How long has that been happening?”
Marahl shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve never paid much attention to it. The lair is well-maintained and well-kept, these small tremors are part of living here.”
Elora frowned at her, confused by how she could be so calm about it. Even if the mountain was safe, why would any of the dragorai build a lair inside a mountain that randomly trembled like that. Also, Nyro’s lair wasn’t that far from this one, considering the size of their territories, and his lair never suffered anything like this. Something was strange.
“The servant I saw,” she said hesitantly, “when I asked what was happening, he said ‘He’s back.’”
Marahl glanced at her. “Yes, he is. He wishes to see you.”
Elora tensed, her breath rushing out in a gust. “You’re taking me to him? Right now?”
“Yes.”
The urge to run in the opposite direction sparked through her muscles but she let it pass. What he planned for her was the role she had always intended to fulfill; she couldn’t avoid it and it wasn’t worth angering him.
Marahl led her up a few sloping corridors where a dry, warm breeze drifted through the air, and she stopped outside of a set of wide double doors, then gestured for Elora to enter. “Wait in here for him.”
Elora took a breath, then opened the door. Inside was the beast’s chambers. It was very different from Nyro’s. Zendyor had much less furniture and his furnishings were plainer, but bolder; a huge bed with four thick column posts, solid gold chests, and a beautiful, square table with a couple of chairs. One wall was missing, just like in Nyro’s chamber, providing a beautiful view of his mountain range, but Zendyor’s room had a simple design.
She edged to the middle of the room, studying everything she could from where she stood. The only decorative things in the room were a painting on the wall and a rug on the floor, both minimal; plain muted colors with a splash of bold color. She was glad to see that he, at least, had artwork.
It was quiet, and after a long moment Elora relaxed. Here the silence was peaceful, not like the uncomfortable quiet in the lower corridors of the lair where people were busy working but didn’t speak. Maybe it was the furnishings, but the beast’s chamber felt like the only normal place so far. She wandered to the window and gazed out over his mountain range. It was just as beautiful as all the views she’d seen from the windows in Nyro’s lair, white and grey mountains spreading out into the distance, meeting the horizon with a vibrant blue sky. She’d lost track of the time, but it looked like it could be late afternoon.
Lost in her thoughts, she jumped at the sound of a slamming door and when she spun around, she screamed.
Dressed in just pants, the beast’s thick, muscled upper body was on display, but his entire body was covered in blood. It drenched his hair, coated every inch of his face, hands, every patch of skin, saturated his pants, and even trickled down his neck as though it was secreting from his pores. But it wasn’t just that. This time he truly did look like a beast. Mouth twisted in a snarl, wild eyes filled with fury, and fists clenched, he was clearly still in whatever killing frenzy he had returned from. And he was charging toward her.
Elora backed away, terror in her throat, but his strides were long and it was mere moments before he reached her.
Grabbing her by the neck and pulling her toward him, he buried his face in her neck again, but this time she fought, attempting to pry his hand from her neck as she hit his chest repeatedly. But her hands bounced off his hard muscle. He groaned and continued to breath her in, ignoring her ineffective attack. Her body was in sudden movement when he strode toward his bed, dragging her backward as she struggled and fought, yet his distinctive scent surrounded her quickly. This time it was layered with a compelling bitter edge that warned her of his mood—aggressive, aroused, determined. It seeped heavily from him, so powerful that it soon nestled in her nostrils, hit the back of her throat, and clung to her skin, as though she was being smothered by it. And of course her body reacted.
By the time he threw her down on the bed, an ache coiled deep in her stomach, her slick gathered in abundance and her nipples painfully rubbed against her tunic.
The beast’s mouth found her neck, and she shuddered, whimpering as he licked and sucked the sensitive skin. Then he was tearing at her tunic, ripping it off her in strips to get to her body.
Elora tried to keep fighting, but her mind was choppy with confused thoughts and sensations. Her hand stilled on his slippery arm as the overly large muscles contracted, and some part of her—not completely unknown to her conscious mind—marveled at the strength of him, and despite his dominant behavior she was eager to have her tongue on him.
Within moments her tunic was shredded and his mouth found her nipple. She cried out as he sucked her hard, biting and flicking his tongue as his hand trailed down her body. Elora exhaled, her mouth open, her back arched, flutterings of pleasurable sparks vibrating around her body.
Zendyor pressed himself against her, smearing her with the blood he was drenched in, but she couldn’t focus on that when the sensations he caused were overwhelming her. He moved between her breasts until she writhed and moaned, her nipples inflamed with a delicious scorching tingle from his teeth and tongue. Covering her skin with his saliva, he licked and sucked everywhere he could reach.
It was the coppery odor of blood tainting his scent that kept her from surrendering completely—a small worm of resistance wriggling through the overwhelming feelings, but when he lowered between her legs, pressing his face to her slit and breathing her in, the rumble of his sigh sent a beam of glorious rapture through her that cut through everything else. His tongue lapped at her, dragging through her folds to harass the sensitive bundle between them. He sucked the tip just right, making her jerk and twist and whine for more.
He feasted well, and soon she was gasping, unable to take the intensity of what was building. Twirling her fingers through his drenched hair, she grabbed a fistful and attempted to pull his head away, blood trickling through her fingers as she squeezed, but the beast could not be moved. He ignored her, building a rhythm that swept and swirled her up and into a molten peak of delicious madness. Every muscle convulsed as she soared, her back arched, breath caught in her lungs for a long weightless moment, then the tension drained out of her.
The beast finally released her. He rose over her, his eyes heavy with a hungry need so powerful, it made her skin prickle. She panted as she watched him position himself over her, barely noticing that her legs were bent, her knees eagerly spread wide to accommodate him. The smell of her permeated the space between them, mingling with the odor of blood and the beast’s own deeply enticing scent. And together, they smelled sinfully sublime.
The beast pinned her down, his big hands securing her onto the bed and he speared her with one thrust. Elora screamed, both pleasure and pain rocking through her, savage and consuming, alerting every part of her that her body was no longer her own. The beast stilled, fully sheathed within her as she gasped and wriggled underneath him. He spoke, his voice deep as he rumbled words from his strange language, but it was strangely soothing and although she had no idea what he was saying, Elora relaxed and quietened, looking up to meet his hot gaze.
Then he moved, slamming into her in hard, long strokes. Elora remained tense for a long moment, afraid of the intensity of the pain and pleasure, but the feel of him inside her evolved quickly into something raw and primal, tumbling into every inch of her being.
Her toes curled tight, she absorbed everything—the feel of his skin, the rasp of his breath, the heightened scent—and it drew on something carnal and volatile within her that was out of her control.
As his mouth latched onto her stiff nipple, she opened her legs wider, rolling her hips and urging him to take her, to dominate her the way she needed it. Her pleasure built until it was a raging force. She pushed her nipple into his mouth, widened her legs to hump him, needing more.
But the beast was not swayed by her greedy little actions, he did what they both needed. The slams between her legs turned brutal, punishing, and his hips sped up slowly enhancing the carnal energy between them. Soon they were both grunting, panting, gripping each other, desperate for more.
Elora did not recognize herself or her own thoughts. She had slipped into a behavior that was predetermined, a behavior she had no control over. This experience was beautiful and consuming and addictive, and she didn’t want it to end. The brutal, sloppy pounding of her channel thrilled her beyond belief, and she embraced the heightened sensations that spiraled around her body, careening her into a new state of existence and understanding. She was an omega, and this alpha was giving her exactly what she had always craved without her ever knowing it. She submitted to the experience, and the pleasure that bloomed from her acceptance took her euphoria to a higher level.
Their coupling was frenzied and frantic and messy. Elora didn’t know when their position changed but she found herself face down with her ass in the air, the alpha behind her, squeezing her ass cheeks as he pummeled her. She growled into the bed, gripping the sheets into her fists as she battled the violent oncoming storm within her, and suddenly the fiery outburst of pleasure took over her whole body so intensely, she didn’t know who she was.
Elora had no sense of time for how long he took her; all she knew was that he was everything. He surrounded her with his body, intoxicated her with his scent, teased her with his mouth, and devastated her with his cock. It felt like an eternity of savage pleasure and raw primal energy, broken only by the multiple peaks of her climaxes. When he finally orgasmed, he roared, slamming into her erratically, once, twice, and on the third time locking them together, his knot at the base of his cock stretching her so far she thought she would be torn in two as he spilled his seed inside her.
And only then did the beast relax on top of her, covering her with his body and tucking her head into his chest. Elora submitted underneath him, relishing the burn of his knot as exhaustion and sleep claimed her.
4
Soft clanking and clattering woke her. Elora groaned, her head spinning. Her face was plastered against a pillow and blankets surrounded her, propping her into positions to secure her.
The aroma of fresh bread reached her nose and she rolled over onto her back.
“I hope you had a good sleep.” It was Marahl. She was at the desk with another tray and some plates. “Midday is approaching. I thought you might want some food before it gets too late.”
Elora sat up, wincing at the ache in her limbs. Memories came rushi
ng back to her and she frowned realizing that she was back in her room. “How did I get here?”
“You were brought back here,” Marahl said while pouring a hot drink into a mug on the table.
“Oh.” Every muscle in Elora’s body throbbed in a dull discomfort which was also oddly satisfying. She peered at her bandaged arm and looked over her body. There was no blood.
“I changed your bandages,” Marahl said.
Elora checked her hair and clothes. She was wearing a night tunic that she didn’t remember putting on. “Did you dress me?”
“No,” Marahl said. “You must have found that in here.”
“What about the blood?”
“What blood?”
Elora frowned at her. She couldn’t have missed the blood—it had been everywhere.
Marahl shot her a strange look back. “After you eat, I recommend you stay in here.”
“You want me to stay in here all day?” Elora said incredulously.
“I’m not saying you can’t leave,” Marahl said. “I just want to make sure that if I need to find you, you are not wandering around the lair lost.”
“Where is… our lord,” Elora asked tentatively. At the thought of him, her core clenched and a much more significant ache cut through her. She tried not to wince too obviously in front of Marahl, but she was so sore.
“He is out at the moment.”
Elora nodded, somewhat relieved. She was still in shock at her experience with him. She knew alphas and omegas had a much deeper instinctual connection together than the non-dynamics, but never would she have guessed it would be so… primitive. It had to be because he was a dragorai and his particular scent and behavior made her so wild. There was no other explanation. Mama had tried to prepare her by explaining how things worked, and it wasn’t as though she wasn’t aware of sex happening within the faction at times, and she’d witnessed constant sex in Nyro’s lair, but nothing she’d seen and nothing Mama ever said resembled what Elora had experienced yesterday. And she was conflicted about experiencing it again.