A Lair So Primal (The Last Dragorai Book 3)

by Zoey Ellis

  Elora positioned herself behind him and wrapped her arms around his torso, placing a palm on his chest. Slowly she pressed her lips in little kisses along his bare back, nuzzling her nose against his taut skin, before pressing her cheek against him and humming a simple melody.

  “There was a young boy and girl in my faction,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “They were similar ages and their parents told them that they would be betrothed to each other. Normally, parents don’t tell the children so young, but their parents wanted them to develop a friendship over time, with the hopes it would develop into love. They became best friends very quickly and were always together whenever they could be.”

  Zendyor’s chest expanded as he took a deep breath and then released it.

  “The boy was really good at throwing rocks, he practiced every single day so he’d be adept enough to help protect the faction whenever they were scouting out new areas. The girl would sit with him and talk to him as he practiced, and soon he relied upon her in order to focus.”

  The dragorai’s muscles relaxed, his tension draining slowly.

  “One day raiders came to the land that my faction had claimed and they tried to take many of the women, including the little girl. As they were dragging them away, she screamed for her friend, her betrothed. But as she was being pulled farther away and with no one coming, she knew it would be the last time she would ever see her faction or her betrothed again. The raider who was dragging her had her by the hair, her feet kicking into the ground as she struggled against him. And then out of nowhere a rock smashed into his face. It hit so hard, blood splattered down on top of her. He fell, crashing to the ground and releasing her immediately. Similar rocks hit some of the other raiders and the women scrambled up and ran back to their faction. The boy hugged his betrothed, and they were both so relieved that they never left each other’s side again. They were by each other’s side when they died many years later.”

  The dangerous air around Zendyor dissipated by the time she finished speaking. He turned and grabbed her hair, forcing her to look up at him. His beautiful blue eyes were filled with curiosity with a hint of something else she couldn’t identify. He pulled her to his chest and lowered his face to the crown of her head, exhaled another long breath. After that, he took her back to bed and was able to sleep.

  A few nights later, she woke again to pressure in the room from his overwhelming aggression, his body tense, his fists clenched, and fury in his eyes.

  And like the other night, she wrapped her arms around him, a palm on his chest and her cheek against his back, and started speaking again. “One of the babies in the faction was a favorite among all the adults. He was naturally very chubby, and that was attractive to the parents because it made him look healthy. A lot of the babies were born slightly underweight and it was a constant concern to make sure they were fed well.”

  Zendyor’s chest expanded and the tension began to trickle away.

  “But this baby was also a very happy baby. He had the most infectious laugh and the brightest smile.” Elora smiled just remembering him. “He kept so many in good spirits, and even the other children just wanted to be near him. There were a record number of pregnancies in the faction after his birth, and the faction was also more productive. His younger sister and brother were the same way. We started to call them the happy family.” She sighed. “I think they represented the secret to our faction.”

  Zendyor turned around, grabbing her hair again and forcing her head up as he looked down on her. “Why are you telling me these stories?” he growled.

  Elora smiled at him. “They’re nice, don’t you think?”

  “Answer me,” he demanded. “Why?”

  “To make you feel better,” she whispered. “You feel better, don’t you?”

  His jaw clenched. “I am not one of the servants. This is not how you pay your debt.”

  Elora lifted her hand to his face, tracing his check with her fingers. “I’m not trying to pay my debt. Isn’t it nicer to feel calm?”

  Zendyor frowned. “I am a dragorai.”

  Elora wasn’t sure how that answered her question.

  “You refuse to answer my questions honestly and yet you offer up this pointless information,” he added.

  Elora dropped her hand, lowering her face as her disappointment dragged down her mood. Her faction wasn’t pointless to her, but of course it was to him. She was here to pay a debt and earn her place in his lair, nothing more.

  Zendyor pulled her close again, his face nuzzling her crown, then returned them to bed where he fell into a deep sleep.

  Elora tried to find his kon’aya to ask her about Zendyor. If anyone knew about his moods, it would be the person who was most intimate with him. But she could not find her. None of the servants knew where she worked, and some had never seen her before, but when she finally asked Marahl, she said she’d pass on a message.

  The next week when she woke in the night, she wondered if she should even bother going to Zendyor. But she could sense that the aggression in the air wasn’t just his anger—it was his frustration and turmoil, his chaos and discontent. She couldn’t stand to witness such suffering. So she got up.

  Wrapping her arms around him, she fixed herself into the familiar position and closed her eyes, trying to breathe her calmness into him.

  After a long moment, he took a deep breath. “Speak.”

  Elora smiled against his chest and began another story about her faction.

  Over the course of the next few months, she told him every happy memory and story she had about her large and extended family, and she enjoyed it. She felt like herself when she thought back to those times.

  And while her ability to calm him did not make him any less curious about her, his behavior developed in ways she didn’t anticipate.

  A new Dao board table appeared in her room. It was identical to the one that he’d broken, which was strange because I’mya had had it made for her.

  “My other board was a gift,” she pointed out to Zendyor when he asked her about it while she was panting and on his knot. “It’ll never be the same as the one you broke.”

  “It is almost exactly the same,” he said. “I’mya had it made for you again. She sends it with her ‘all her love.’”

  Elora pulled away from him in shock. “She knows you broke it?”

  “Yes.” His jaw hardened. “She was… not pleased.”

  Elora couldn’t help but giggle. The idea that I’mya was annoyed with Zendyor lifted her spirits greatly. I’mya wasn’t the type to hold her tongue, even if Zendyor was the type to never do what anyone said.

  Zendyor frowned at her, which only made her laugh harder.

  “She has forbidden me from touching it.” Zendyor growled, a hint of indignation in his tone, which set her off in peals of laughter.

  But that wasn’t the only surprise. One of the empty rooms in the lair had been made into a Dao room, with Dao tables and chairs set out for the staff to play each other and lounge seats for people to watch. It became one of the most popular rooms in the lair.

  From what she could tell, the servants had been correct; Zendyor didn’t mind everyone enjoying themselves, as long as the work was done to perfection. That didn’t seem to be a problem, as the servants still took their jobs just as seriously as they had when she’d first arrived at the lair. The only difference was now that they were overlapping the labor, they had time to enjoy other leisurely activities.

  With both him and his dragon calmer, the lair felt like a different place, and many servants noticed.

  After she had shared all she remembered about her faction, she couldn’t help but wonder what he would allow her to talk about next, but when she took her position one evening and remained silent, he spoke.

  “We have been at war for almost the whole time I have been alive,” he said, his voice gritty. “At first with each other, then with your kind, now with the king and queen.”

  Elora squeezed him tighte
r.

  “Another one of my brothers has found his mate.”

  Elora gasped against his back and then grinned. “Congratulations. Which brother?”

  “Tyomar. I am happy for him. But it raises the stakes now. There is more for us to lose.”

  Elora frowned. “How?”

  “We had to go to the South, and now the queen is likely to attack us.” He exhaled a breath. “If it was just me and brothers, it would be fine—enjoyable even. But my brothers’ mates….”

  Something odd twisted in Elora’s chest. He cares more about I’mya than her. She shook the thought away as hard as she could. I’mya was part of his clan and therefore his priority. Elora wasn’t. “You will protect them,” Elora whispered. “I read stories about you—you always protect your own. Every time. The servants admire that about you.”

  He was silent, but his aggression had faded. “My patience with you will eventually run out, Elora,” he said gravely. “The longer you choose to avoid telling me what I want to know, the more you are putting yourself at risk.”

  Elora bit her lip, wondering how to convince him. She was starting to believe he didn’t want to be convinced—that he just liked accusing her and bedding her, and that he was never going to accept her explanations for anything. Maybe Nureen was right—he saw her as a treasure to hold on to, someone who had defied him in a way he didn’t understand, but that didn’t hold any real value other than a trophy to hoard and screech over, like his dragon had done.

  He hadn’t hurt her since that first day, but maybe he just enjoyed having sex with her too much now. Once that ended, what would he do to her?

  She remained silent and Zendyor said nothing more. He turned and scooped her up, then carried her to bed.

  Elora tried to cast Zendyor’s threats to the back of her mind since she couldn’t control what was going to happen. A few days later, during one of the more energetic singing lessons, they got up and began to move, tapping their feet and clapping their hands, the joyful nature of the song spurring them on. A few of them had built some instruments which helped everyone stay in rhythm, and the new sounds added to the festive mood.

  Elora threw herself into it, loving how singing made her feel. It was truly astonishing with all the activities in the other lair, no one had tried this one.

  As she sang, people were singing along and Pelles slid by her, stepping to the rhythm of the song. Elora laughed, but Pelles took her hand and spun her around, and then drew her in and began to sway with her.

  A thunderous roar echoed across the space. Everyone froze, startled, and Elora grabbed onto Pelles in shock.

  Zendyor strode into the space, his face contorted in fury as he headed directly toward Elora and Pelles, who immediately stepped back, but Zendyor charged forward until he was between them, towering over the servant, a harsh growl rumbling from his throat.

  Elora moved quickly. She didn’t want her friend harmed simply because they’d been having fun. She stepped behind Zendyor and wrapped her arms around him, placing her palm on his chest and pressing herself tight against him. They held still for a long moment, the silence and stillness almost deafening after the cheerful clamor of the song. But the anger began to drain out of Zendyor very slowly.

  He turned, swept her up in his arms, and positioned her face first against the nearest wall.

  “It was just a bit of fun,” she said, as he ripped off her panties and pulled her ass toward him.

  He said nothing until he speared her with his thick length. “It wasn’t fucking fun for me,” he growled. “No one touches what is mine.” He pulled her head back, arching her back as he began to snap his hips against her, driving his thickness in and out. “I will tear him apart next time, do you understand?”

  “That doesn’t normally happen. It wasn’t—”

  “I know!” Zendyor bellowed. “I’ve been watching. That’s not the point. Do you understand me?”

  Elora nodded, and Zendyor released her head and gripped her hips.

  It was a savage claiming, but one that aroused her acutely. She wasn’t sure why—if it was the lingering anger in his scent or the base urge that compelled him to assert his dominance. Either way, her nipples hardened to the point of pain and slick dripped down her leg. The fleshy, sloppy smacks against her echoed through the room and he went so deep, so hard she climaxed three times in a row, even though he hadn’t touched her anywhere else.

  When he climaxed, his seed splattered on her ass and slit and he spun her around and kissed her like she was the sweetest, most satisfying thing he’d ever had in his mouth.

  After that, Elora expected Pelles and the rest of the staff would be less enthusiastic about their lord, and even be more fearful of him. Bewilderingly, they were excited.

  “You’re going to be next!” Sarai squealed. “I can feel it.” The other servants were so excited they could barely speak.

  Elora stared at them, confused. “Next for what?”

  “To be our lord’s mate,” Cyndra said. “The signs are all there. He is so jealous over you!”

  Elora laughed and shook her head. “No, no, that’s not how it works. I’m his treasure.”

  Cyndra frowned. “What?”

  “His treasure. That’s how he sees me. He doesn’t want anyone touching his toys, his dragon is the same way.”

  Sarai made a sudden alarmed face at her.

  “I hear,” Elora added quickly. “I hear his dragon is like that.”

  “You never know,” Pelles said. “It could happen.”

  Elora smiled at them all. “No, it can’t. I can’t understand his language or wield magic. When his mate shows up, I’m sure we’ll all know it without a doubt.”

  “True,” Askel said thoughtfully. “But I still want it to happen with you.”

  A few weeks later, after one of Felsie’s fictional stories, when everyone was both tearful yet hopeful, the other servants kept glancing at the door. Usually at the end of the stories, they talked a little bit about their experiences in the war, sharing memories so that the ones they loved were still alive in their hearts. But this time, no one spoke.

  When she turned to look, Zendyor stood in the doorway; thick arms crossed and face somber, as he observed the group.

  “My lord,” Felsie said. “Welcome. I hope you enjoyed the story.”

  Zendyor stepped into the room and strolled around the edge of it, saying nothing. The servants’ expressions were all a mix of admiration, apprehension, and wonder.

  The dragorai settled his back on the wall opposite Elora. “The North Cities.”

  Elora squinted at him, wondering if she’d heard correctly.

  “Tell me about them,” he said, his eyes unwavering on hers.

  Elora frowned. “There’s not much to say about them,” she said. “They are a bunch of ruined cities that used to be wealthy and impressive, but now they are ruins.”

  “How did you navigate living there,” he asked.

  Elora shifted her head, confused at the question. “What do you mean?”

  “You claim you were seeking refuge in my brother’s lair from the war. How?”

  Elora stared at him. “The war was dangerous for everyone,” she said slowly. “Surely you understand that.”

  “And yet you managed to survive,” he murmured, his eyes running down her body, “with your maidenhead intact and without ever being impregnated. That is quite an impressive feat for an omega such as yourself.”

  Irritation jostled Elora’s shoulders as heat ran up her neck. She glanced at the servants, who were watching the exchange. “Such as myself? What do you mean?”

  “Tell me about the North,” Zendyor demanded.

  Elora’s mouth tightened, but she spoke calmly. “The North is grey and cold and desolate,” she said. “It looks empty until you look closer and see that everyone is out of sight, watching everyone else. All of its cities are in ruins, buildings are falling apart and crumbling. There is little farm life, and what there is left is fo
ught over by factions. It’s important to watch out for, not just the bombs and the queen’s soldiers, but other factions, wild animals, disease, crumbling buildings, ember. It is impossible to survive there unless you have a support system.”

  “And who was your support system?”

  “My faction.”

  “Tell me about them.”

  Elora frowned. “I’ve told you—”

  “You told me about very specific, detached incidents and people. And always positive accounts. I want to know, in a broad sense, who they were and what your background was with them.”

  Elora said nothing for a moment, but she was puzzled by the sudden interest. “Why do you want to know?”

  Zendyor’s face hardened. “Why wouldn’t I want to know?”

  Felsie cleared her throat. “It would be good to hear a real hopeful story for a change.” She smiled at Elora. “You sometimes mention how great your faction was. It would be nice to hear about them.”

  The rest of the servants were looking at her now, nodding in agreement and interest.

  Elora took a breath. “It was mostly made up of my family,” she began. “But it was also one of the most long-lasting factions that existed since the war began. It began when a group of neighbors and families agreed to protect each other until the war was over. Uncles, aunts, cousins, and loosely connected relatives were all brought into it, so their ideas and skills and efforts helped to set the faction up in the best position for longevity during war.

  “The main philosophy of the faction was that if we could protect each other and look after each other, no matter our differences, then we could survive. Every few years, new faction leaders were chosen from the different families to make a deciding group who stayed true to the core beliefs.”

  “That’s a great attitude to have,” Cyndra murmured.

  “That’s why you’re so smiley and positive all the time,” Sarai said, grinning.

  “But how did they stick to it?” Askel asked. “People can be emotional.”