A Lair So Primal (The Last Dragorai Book 3)

by Zoey Ellis

  Glancing out of the window, she was surprised to see how late in the day it was. Her stomach rumbled, but she wanted to finish cleaning.

  Taking the bucket of dirty water to the opening, where she had swept the soot and debris off the edge of the mountain, she carefully poured the murky water over. After she emptied the bucket, she heaved the basket filled with the shiny items and placed it near the edge of the doorway. The items were an odd collection of things; swords, scraps of armor, buckles, a round decorative plate and more. Elora couldn’t understand the connection between them and why they were scattered around the room. It reminded her of the room she came across with the odd objects displayed.

  The bucket with the metal items was too heavy for her to carry back down to the main part of the lair alone, so she left it just outside the door and went back in to collect the bucket with the rotting, moldy meat to make sure it was disposed of properly.

  As she picked it up, she froze in horror at the sight that greeted her at the outer edge of the opening.

  Barreling directly toward her in midair was the massive, beastly dragon. It looked like the same one she’d seen fly toward her after I’mya’s ordination—stunning inky black, spikes protruding down his back, shimmering with a golden sheen in the sunlight. He aimed directly at her and traveled at such speed that Elora barely had time to think. The dragon was already through the opening before she even dropped the bucket and turned to run, his clawed feet slamming against the edge causing the entire room to shake. It threw her off her feet but she scrambled up quickly, lurching forward to the doorway, as the dragon was halfway across the room. Staggering wildly, she charged forward and grabbed the edge of the doorway. She swung herself out into the corridor, pressing herself against the wall, her heart pounding in her chest so hard it hurt.

  The entire area shook. The dragon moved around the space, screeches, clawing, and gruff noises coming from the room. Then, a piercing shriek rang out and Elora covered her ears. A burst of steam billowed out of the doorway. When it stopped, Elora inched to the edge and peeked into the room. The floor was no longer wet but the dragon turned around and around in space, clawing at the floor and sniffing the corners. He began to roar, the thunder of it whipping a cold terror through her chest. She pressed herself back against the outer wall, banging her foot into the bucket of items as she did.

  She peered down, then realized what he might be missing.

  Heaving the basket back into the doorway, she pushed it in as far as she could and the roaring stopped.

  Some more rustling and scratches and the bucket dragging against the floor, then all she heard was heavy breathing.

  Her heart pounding in her ears was louder than anything coming from the room, and when she peeked in again, the dragon sat in the middle of room, curled in the caved-in pit, his mouth working as he chewed on a piece of flesh with a bone protruding from his mouth.

  Elora exhaled quietly and then ran back down the corridor the way she came. As she reached the servants area, she nearly knocked Sarai over.

  “I’ve been looking for you every—eww.” Sarai wrinkled her nose. “You stink.”

  Elora pointed back the way she came, breathless. “His dragon. His dragon’s den thing is up there!”

  Sarai’s face dropped. “You went up there?” Her face a picture of disbelief. “You went up to the den, on your own?”

  “I didn’t know it was a den,” Elora exclaimed. “I thought it was just a room that had been overlooked and needed cleaning.”

  “You went in?” Sarai almost shrieked. “How did you survive it?”

  “He wasn’t in there when I was there,” Elora said exasperatingly. “He came just after I finished cleaning it.”

  Sarai’s disbelief was almost comical as her eyes widened to frightening proportions. She blinked at Elora, speechless for a moment. “Come with me.”

  She led Elora down a few corridors before stepping inside a room and beckoning her to hurry in. It was her quarters—similar to Elora’s in many ways, but plainer.

  “What were you doing at the den of our lord’s dan askha?” Sarai said in a hushed tone.

  “I didn’t realize it was his den! I smelled something really horrible up there, so I went in to clean it. Just as I’d finished, the dragon came back. I barely escaped him.”

  “Are you all right?” Sarai said, leading her to the bed to sit down.

  Elora nodded, exhaling a halting breath. “I wasn’t hurt, just terrified.”

  Sarai thought for a moment. “So you managed to clean the room?”

  Elora nodded. “Yes, but I would never have gone in if I’d known it was the dragon’s den.”

  “So it’s clean right now? There is no rotting flesh in there.” Sarai was looking at her strangely.

  “No, well, except for the one he is eating.” She shook her head. “Why do you allow old meat to fester up there? It’s not healthy.”

  Sarai raised her brows. “It’s been practically impossible for anyone to go in there to clean it,” she said. “He is an extremely volatile creature. If anyone enters his den, he seems to know, then returns immediately and burns the area until everything is incinerated. Lots of servants have been lost that way.”

  Elora stared at her horrified. “So the flesh that I collected, some of that was….” She pressed the back of her hand to her mouth, trying not to retch again.

  “I can’t believe you were able to clean it.” Sarai dropped down onto her bed, astonishment on her face. “Can you hear how quiet he is? It’s completely still.”

  Elora frowned. “You mean he was the one who was making the lair shake?”

  “Yes. What did you think it was?”

  Elora shrugged. “I thought it was a quake.”

  “A quake that was solely localized to this mountain?” Sarai asked. She shook her head. “No. He makes a lot of noise up there when they first arrive back.”

  Suddenly it dawned on Elora that the quakes always happened before she was summoned to see Zendyor—just after he arrived back to the lair with his dragon. She rolled her eyes at herself that she hadn’t put it together. “Why does he do it?” she asked Sarai. “Is he clumsy?”

  “No, he’s very difficult—it’s his temperament. And he doesn’t like his den dirty.”

  “He doesn’t like his den dirty, but he doesn’t want anyone in there to clean it?” Elora shook her head. “That makes no sense.”

  “Dragons are very sensitive creatures, particularly dan askhas.”

  “What’s the difference? Elora asked. “Sometimes people say dragons, sometimes they say dan askha. What is the difference between them.”

  Sarai shifted on the bed so that one knee was bent as she faced Elora. “Well, you know what dragons are, right?”

  Elora nodded. “Big, winged creatures that no longer exist apart from the ones bonded to the Vattoro clan.”

  “Right. The Goddesses didn’t just create the dragorai. There were other beings they created that were human with bonded animal counterparts. The animal counterpart was always called the dan askha, regardless of the particular animal, and they had unique elements that went beyond what a normal animal of that kind would have. Of all the other beings that the Goddesses made, the dragorai were their most successful and their most beloved creation, and now they are the only ones left. So when we say dan askha, we mean the unique creature that is bonded to its alpha. But in the case of the dragorai, it is a dragon—similar in some ways to other dragons, but with very specific tendencies and needs that are highly superior.”

  “All right,” Elora said. “I understand. With respect to the dragorai clan, the dan askha is a dragon, but in other species it was a different animal.”

  “Yes,” Sarai said. “Our lord’s dan askha is extremely volatile. He has the same level of ferocity as our lord, except he has no reservation. He does not use words. He does not negotiate or compromise. He does not bow to anyone or anything. He is the fiercest creature that roams the Forbidden Mountains and
the Twin Realms. The only ones who may be able to curb his fierceness are his dragon brothers and his human counterpart. There are times when he’ll just want to let out his aggression, and that’s what he’s doing to the mountain. Sometimes it’s not even within his den, it’s out in the range and he just attacks the mountains.”

  Elora took a breath and exhaled slowly, unable to believe what she was hearing. “So you all have to live with him attacking the mountain simply because you happen to be with this dragorai. Can’t our lord do anything about it?”

  “Honestly, it was worse before you came,” Sarai said. “And I think it’s the same with our lord. Sometimes he has raging outbursts and he needs to let the frustration out. It’s just a shame people get hurt.”

  “Yes, like Askel.”

  Sarai made a noise in the back of throat. “There have been more serious injuries. Like Boe.”

  Elora gasped. “Boe?”

  “You’ve seen his scars on his hands and arms?”

  Elora shook her head, her heart sinking.

  “He hides it well,” Sarai said. “But kitchens are already dangerous places without the shaking and trembling.”

  Elora sighed, rubbing her brows with her finger and thumb before looking back up at Sarai. “How do you know all this?”

  “Listening to the stewards and paying attention.” Sarai smiled. “People talk more freely around children.”

  Yes, of course, Sarai had been here as a child. “I wonder what Marahl would say about this.”

  “She’ll question you and then probably have someone attempt what you did. But she’ll ban you from going back up there.”

  Elora frowned. “Why?”

  “Because she won’t want you hurt.”

  Elora bit her lip. “What if I’m able to clean it again safely?”

  Sarai shot her a look. “It’s too dangerous.”

  “There was rotting meat in his pit.” Elora rolled her eyes. “That’s why he was grumpy.” She then hesitated before asking a question. “Tell me the truth, do you all work so hard because of the trembling and shaking?”

  Sarai was still for a moment. “It is better for us to be prepared and careful. The stewards have a plan in case anything happens to the mountain.”

  “Marahl implied it was safe.”

  “I’m sure it is, for now, but the dragorai are practically immortal. This mountain won’t last as long as it should. The stewards have to think long-term.”

  Elora chewed her lip as she thought about cleaning up after the dan askha. She couldn’t see how she could not do it. The servants would be safer, and they wouldn’t have to work so hard every single day. On top of it, the dragon would be happier too.

  “I’m not saying that you shouldn’t go back up there,” Sarai added after a moment. “I just wouldn’t ask anyone to meddle with a vicious dragorai-dragon just to stop the lair from shaking every so often.”

  “Maybe if I figure out what I did, I can teach others.”

  “True.” Sarai shot her a look. “And if you get burnt to a crisp, that’s also a lesson for others.”

  Elora laughed, and Sarai couldn’t help but laugh with her.

  “I’m starving.” Elora sighed. “I missed lunch with Askel. Oh, where were you moved to? I didn’t know where to find you.”

  “I know. I was moved to fabrics.” Sarai smiled at her. “I hope you can come to help again soon. I was so excited after yesterday. It’d be good to see everyone again.”

  Elora grinned back. “Let’s see if we can make it happen.”

  Over the next few weeks, Elora, Sarai, Cyndra, Pelles, and Askel organized an arrangement wherein the servants could assist each other with their duties and then spend the free time with each other in the afternoon.

  They tried to ensure that different servants had the opportunity to have free time so it wasn’t always the same people. But sometimes it was impossible to assist certain servants quickly enough because their duties required specific skills. Sarai had been keen to see her brother, but they couldn’t locate where he was in the lair.

  As more of the staff became aware of the potential for some free time, more suggestions were made about how they could spend their afternoons. Unfortunately, Elora’s Dao board had been broken beyond repair when Zendyor threw it across the hall, which upset her because it had been a gift from I’mya.

  One afternoon they listened to Felsie, an older woman from the South who enjoyed writing hopeful creative narratives about surviving the war. Her storytelling was riveting and thought-provoking, and they brought hope that the people they once knew were surviving.

  Another afternoon Cyndra taught them how to sing. Elora was surprised how much she enjoyed it. It wasn’t something she had done in the other lair. It was so much fun and it lifted her mood so much to sing with the other members of staff. Another time, Sarai taught them how to sew, which was similar to embroidery, but more practical. Embroidery was for luxurious fashions, Sarai explained, whereas sewing constructed the actual shape of the clothing. She showed the rest of the staff how to make a simple tunic, and while it was plain it was a brand-new item of clothing.

  Boe took over several of the afternoons to have everyone taste his new recipes, and he even gave a cooking class to any servant who wanted it.

  Elora was amazed by all the skills the staff had among them, and she was delighted that they enjoyed learning from each other and spending time with each other.

  The mood of the lair was rapidly changing. Over the course of a few months, Elora went to visit the dragon a few more times. He’d been mostly quiet after she last cleaned his den, but when the thudding started again, she raised her courage to go back up there.

  He wasn’t in the room, so she darted in to get the basket of rotting flesh that she’d left in there the last time. She was surprised to see that the flesh had been burned to a gritty ash. She stood staring at the bucket, dumbfounded. Had the dragon burned the remaining meat purposefully? She pursed her lips. It was possible. She carried the basket down to the opening and tipped over the remains, then went back up to the den and started collecting the new fresh bones and lumps of meat that had been left near the side of his pit. Placing them in the basket, she deliberately left it in the room to see what he would do with it.

  His bucket of shiny items sat in a new corner of his lair, and there were a few more items laying around it that had been dropped around it. This was clearly his treasure. She smiled to herself that the rumored characteristic turned out to be true. Elora put them inside the basket and then straightened, her hands on her hips as she surveyed the space. This time, she noticed the charred walls and took in the scent of smoke that she hadn’t noticed the first time when cleaning, overwhelmed by the rotting odor.

  When she returned a week later, the meat in the bucket had been burned again, so Elora knew he’d done it intentionally. She’d read that somewhere that some creatures liked to bury or rid themselves of their food remains so they didn’t attract other predators. But a dragon had no natural predator. Maybe he didn’t like the meat rotting in his den? Though, he wasn’t a particularly neat creature.

  Elora rolled her eyes at herself, chuckling at her own ridiculousness. She was no dragon expert to make guesses like that. She’d just have to pay attention to him and watch what he did.

  After the first couple of months, she exited the den to see one of the stewards approaching. It was Walrick, the male steward who’d been in the room when she first met Zendyor. When he saw her, he stopped, shock on his face as he looked between the den entrance and her.

  She opened her mouth to say something, but what could she say?

  They stared at each other for a long moment. Then Walrick stepped past her to look into the den. He turned to her in amazement and started to say something, but then seemed to think better of it. He simply grinned at her and walked back the way he came.

  While things were settling into a comfortable routine in most areas of the lair and with the servants, things wer
en’t so easy with Zendyor.

  His schedule became even more erratic, and Elora found herself summoned at any given moment of the day to see him, sometimes disrupting plans she’d made with the other servants.

  Marahl was always the one who came to collect her, and it surprised Elora that she mentioned nothing about the restructuring of the servants’ day. Elora had almost been certain Marahl would be annoyed about it, but she was always smiling when she came for Elora and even asked her about her day.

  Elora tried to resist succumbing to the overwhelming feelings and sensations when she was with Zendyor but her resistance drained away. He was too potent, too irresistible, and too intoxicating for her as an omega. No matter how much she hated it, she always submitted to him willingly. He was addictive, and when he was away, as he sometimes was, she couldn’t sleep and she struggled to focus. It was unsettling to be so out of control, so different from herself. And it was only when she was with him.

  Zendyor’s treatment of her remained intense and fiery—so much so that she couldn’t tell if he was angry with her or simply desperate for her. He continued to ask her questions, which she kept answering but he didn’t believe her.

  He no longer arrived dripping in blood, which she took to mean that he wasn’t hunting, but something else was certainly on his mind. After their exhausting mating, he would pace in the room while she slept. She awoke a few times to see him standing by the open window deep in thought.

  There was one evening she woke to a heavy feeling of aggression in the room. When she sat up, she could see by his tense stance—encased in a stormy, raucous aggression that tumbled around his whole body—that he was ready to strike out at any moment. On impulse she got up and carefully approached him.

  He wore nothing but his night shorts, the moonlight shining on each bulge of his muscles and glinting off his enraged eyes. Jaw hardened, he didn’t turn to look at her as she approached, but she knew he was aware of her.