A Lair So Sinful

by Zoey Ellis

  “Why do you insist on asking me questions if you cannot understand me,” he growled out, irritably.

  That was true, but I’mya didn’t care.

  An unreasonable rage flared over her, bubbling up her grief into something hard and prickly.

  “You’re following me!” she accused, glaring at him. “Why did you take that?”

  He rested his hands under his head and looked at her, amused. “You are in my lair, fireball. Everything you are belongs to me, much less a painting.”

  I’mya climbed off him, infuriated by his utter dismissiveness.

  She stomped over to the painting and ripped it from the wall. Fighting with it, she tried to tear it to shreds as she growled, taking all of her anger out onto the canvas. It wasn’t as easy as it looked, she had only managed to pathetically break it in two by the time the dragorai grabbed her and yanked it away from her. He slammed her up against the wall, clearly angry, but she was already crying.

  That only infuriated him more. “I told you, you are forbidden from weeping,” he growled out. “Stop it. Now!”

  But the grief had taken hold of her, racking up the sobs for I’yala that she’d never released. She hadn’t protected her own sister, and the shame was like a fire burning every drop of her blood. Adding to that pain was knowing she’d never honored I’yala’s death properly—the guardian wouldn’t let her pray. With every recollection of her memories, the realization hit her over and over again; she belonged nowhere and with no one. She had already left her faction to protect I’yala—her sister had stolen bread to feed I’mya when starvation began to set in.

  “What is wrong with you?” the dragorai bellowed.

  I’mya lashed out at him, but he grabbed her wrists before her fists could connect with anything. “Why are you torturing me?” I’mya yelled at him. “You have an entire lair of women, why do you have to pick me to torture two nights in a row? Just let me be!”

  He stood there for a moment, incredulity forming on his face as he watched her.

  “I want to be on my own, I want to go back to my nook. Let me leave!”

  The dragorai leaned forward, pressing his body over hers as she fought him, but eventually there was no point in continuing. He was too strong and not only that, his scent, as always, began to settle her.

  As she fell limp, her head dropping onto his shoulder, he carried her back over to the bed and lay her down.

  “Do not pretend you have been tortured the entire time you have been with me,” he murmured as he spread her legs and ran his hands over her breasts, squeezing them. “Or that you have not enjoyed me as much as I have enjoyed you.” He lowered to kiss between her legs. “You are different: strong, fiery, beautiful. I see no reason to deprive myself of something so sweet.”

  I’mya moaned, tears still streaming from her eyes as she writhed on the bed. He rose up and pressed into her, sinking in until she had taken his full length and then he simply lay on top of her, his elbows digging into the bed on either side of her head. His eyes captured hers in a solemn gaze. “This is not torture that you are experiencing, fireball, it is my cock and my favor. And you will have both for as long as I feel it necessary.”

  With the crest of her grief dissipating, his words settled an odd calm over I’mya.

  He took pleasure in her pain, he laughed as he inflicted his torture on her. Every time he used magic on her, he was taking the risk of it damaging her, just like how it damaged and killed her parents, but he didn’t care. She was his toy to use as he pleased. Even today, he used magic on her again after knowing she suffered last time. But at least she knew what he was, and what she was to him. He would get bored with her eventually and move on to another, and she would still have a life in this lair. A simple and safe life.

  The dragorai slowly moved his hips, his cock dragging on the sensitive flesh between her legs. I’mya exhaled, succumbing to the sparks of pleasure that gripped her, each nerve rejoicing at the blazing sensation of his length inside her. She stretched, luxuriating in the feeling, closing her eyes against his gaze and squeezing down on him to increase the burn in all of her muscles.

  The dragorai breathed out a gruff curse and began to thrust. Soon he was pounding into her and she submitted fully to him until they were both panting, the force of their slapping bodies releasing rhythmic grunts from their throats, so carnal and so animalistic.

  I’mya became a bundle of instincts. For the rest of the night, she spread herself for the dragorai in any way he pleased. She took pleasure and delight whenever his tongue, his hands, and his cock were on her and ran her fingers over his beautiful, warm skin. He took her repeatedly, all over the room, sometimes knotting her so viciously she howled and clawed him for relief.

  Memories continued to return, but all they did was reinforce her relationship with her sister—both before and after their parents had died. For many new moons, she and I’yala had scrounged for food, scouted for their faction, and try to avoid all the dangers in the North while looking out for each other. When some of the men in the faction paid too much attention to I’yala after their parents died, I’mya had to constantly find new places to sleep every night. She trained with her knives while I’yala was sleeping, and during the day she tried to ensure that her sister could remain a child for at least a few more hours. Memories returned with the curly black head guy, and it was clear that he’d been trying to teach her something, trying to explain something to her about the North or the war. I’mya got the feeling that she had met him after I’yala had died, but it wasn’t clear what they were doing during those memories.

  Thankfully, I’mya’s grief could not exist in the face of such powerful, primal activity with the dragorai, and by the time he had taken his fill, the raw edge of her torment had faded. She panted against his chest, boneless and tingly. It was becoming clear to her that she’d come to the lair to find a new life after her sister died, and the dragorai’s ability to bring her such pleasure was an unexpected advantage. Why shouldn’t she enjoy it? Putting aside her apprehension about the dragorai, there was only one thing that made it unpleasant. She needed to address it with him.

  As soon as her energy returned, she climbed on top of him and straddled his huge body as he watched her through the slits of his eyes.

  “I don’t like when you use magic on me,” she informed him. “Please don’t do it.”

  The dragorai watched her, his expression unchanged. For a moment, she wondered if he heard her. After a long moment, he slid his large hands under her thighs, and lifted her up, pulling her close to his face.

  “Did you know your kon tastes even better after it’s been fucked and knotted?” he said conversationally, positioning her over his mouth.

  I’mya frowned. But before she could say another word, he was furiously lapping at her. She grabbed his hair, twisting the strands through her fists as she tried to reaffirm her point, but the invading pleasure pushed her will aside. And for the rest of the night, she was lost within him.

  6

  For the next two weeks, he demanded her every night.

  Each night was as violently passionate and euphoric as the last, the ferociousness of their coupling never waning. But the dragorai started exhibiting strange behavior.

  Whenever he entered her, he wanted to watch her face and have her eyes on his, no matter the position. I’mya couldn’t understand why he insisted on it, but she soon came to realize that he wanted to look at her at the moment she submitted to the pleasure—the moment she submitted to him. A beam of satisfaction entered his gaze whenever she did, as though it pleased him beyond measure. I’mya wasn’t sure what to think about that, but her body reacted regardless, her slick abundant and dripping when she witnessed his satisfaction.

  She was still unable to sleep in the dragorai’s bed, and by morning, she was always exhausted and drained. But to ensure she would not be able to leave in the mornings, the dragorai started to sleep with his arms locked around her, keeping her pressed against he
r body, his legs pinning down hers. The secure position was mostly comfortable—she liked the pressure of his weight on her, but it also made her sweaty, hot, and irritable. If she tried to turn, he woke instantly, growling at her restlessness. Once, she elbowed him in the chest and snapped at him to quiet down and stop acting like a startled goat. He rose from the bed with a stormy annoyance and slapped her legs apart. The tussle of wills ended in a brutal and delicious knot that left her too drowsy to complain further.

  Another new behavior revealed itself in the mornings. He didn’t allow her to leave his chambers without spilling his seed over her neck, breasts, or stomach. Although I’mya instinctively enjoyed it during her orgasmic bliss, she wasn’t fond of it once in her right mind. The one time she complained about it, he grabbed the crown of her hair and released ropes of his pungent seed all over her face, then wouldn’t let her wipe it off. I’mya levied a hot and angry rant at him, but stopped once she realized he was positively pleased about his decision and was admiring her dripping face. When his length began to harden again, she simply stormed out of the chambers. I’mya much preferred his knot to this strange occurrence, but she would never ask him for that. So she kept her mouth shut and spent more time washing afterward, even though it felt like his scent never left her completely.

  “You don’t smell that strongly of him,” Elora said, rolling her eyes one morning when I’mya returned, complaining about it yet again. “And even if you did, would it be so bad? You said you liked his scent.”

  I’mya scowled at her, but couldn’t find a worthy reply. It was true; she loved his scent, but why was he spilling his seed on her skin—it was a waste of a good knot and she’d only have to wash it off.

  Elora laughed at her expression and shook her head. “I don’t think you mind as much as you think you do. Otherwise you would fight him more about it.”

  I’mya glared at her and then scooted back in her nook to sulk while Elora’s laughter rang in her ears.

  Since the return of her memories about her parents and I’yala, a heavy weight of gloom pressed down on her. Talking to Elora and Nureen about the North helped lift it slightly because she wasn’t the only one who had suffered—they understood. Elora in particular had suffered a lot in the North. I’mya was surprised she’d managed to be so positive and helpful and attentive all the time. Elora brought water for I’mya to drink when she woke up, made sure lunch was saved for her so she could eat, and kept her informed on the happenings in the lair. When I’mya asked her how she could be so positive, Elora explained that her closest friends were her parents, and they had a close-knit group of friends who survived longer than most factions because of their sense of family. Elora never had friends of her own, but she wanted to create that within the lair. I’mya could understand that, having been so close to I’yala and her parents. Memories continued to return to the point she remembered almost everything about Mama, Papa, I’yala, her faction, and the war. She still didn’t know who the black-haired man was—he had to be a more recent memory. All of their memories were of the two of them either arguing or him trying to teach her magic, which she clearly wasn’t good at.

  As I’mya and Elora became closer, I’mya confided in Elora a little more about her interactions with the dragorai, though she still kept all of her thoughts about magic to herself.

  The dragorai still continued to use magic to manipulate her body, which I’mya fought even more against since the return of her memories. It felt disrespectful to her parents to allow him to filter his magic into her body when it was magic that destroyed theirs, but it wasn’t like she could stop him. She’d asked and he’d ignored her. So instead she found ways to distract him or make him minimize his use of it.

  “Don’t think I am unaware of what you’re doing, little fireball,” he grunted out one day after she’d teased him into dispensing with magic and taking her savagely against the wall. “You are lucky your kon is so irresistible.”

  But through his continued use of magic, I’mya realized that when he used it, the echo of his words sounded. She wasn’t sure if it was from the act of casting an incantation or him using it on her body, but when he didn’t use magic at all, she couldn’t understand him. Of course, that didn’t make him any less infuriating.

  I’mya spent her days trying some of the activities that the other girls loved so much. Since she’d seen her terrible painting on the dragorai’s wall, she didn’t return to that activity, but visited the garden, took part in a strange pastime called embroidery and learned to play a popular game the other servants loved called Dao. In the evenings, the bell chimed for her to visit the dragorai’s chambers, but after the first week, Dayatha said that she would be summoned by a servant.

  She also visited the library to see if there was anything she could learn about magic and how it was used or anything about the dragorai that could explain the master’s connection to magic, but most of the books were thick tomes of strange symbols and shapes she didn’t understand. Even Elora, who could read a little, had no idea what they said.

  I’mya was curious about the temple, and Tiiu encouraged her to visit, saying it had brought her a lot of peace since arriving.

  “When was the last time you visited a temple?” Tiiu asked as they arrived one afternoon.

  “A long time ago,” I’mya muttered. “It was half-destroyed but all seven shrines were still intact. It was the second Temple of the Seven that I’d ever visited, but I wasn’t able to go in.”

  “Why not?”

  “A Mheyu wouldn’t let me enter.”

  Tiiu turned to look at her, amazement on her face. “You saw a Mheyu guardian? In the flesh?”

  I’mya nodded as she thought back to the memory. “I was surprised as well. I didn’t realize they visited temples during the war, especially those that were partial ruins.”

  “Maybe she went to collect something important?” Tiiu said thoughtfully. “Why wouldn’t she you let you in?”

  I’mya shrugged. The Mheyu guardian from her memories had prevented her from entering the temple, saying she held too much grief and impure energy. She’d told I’mya the Seven would not be able to help her, but I’mya couldn’t say that to Tiiu. “She didn’t think I had the right… disposition.”

  Tiiu shot her a strange look. “To pray to the Seven?”

  I’mya carefully thought about her words before she responded, just in case Tiiu was a devout follower of the Seven. They were usually sensitive about the strangest things. “I had just lost someone important to me at the time, and I hadn’t grieved properly. I think she wanted me to work on my prayers before I entered.”

  Tiiu nodded, smiling sympathetically. “That is something the Mheyu would say. You are lucky to have met one. I heard that they’ve remained in their sanctums since the war started, and neither the king nor queen dare target them.”

  When they entered the temple, the air was different; the magic that usually saturated the air in the lair was thinner here. Tiiu showed her how to kneel and the words to begin a prayer at each of the shrines. During a visit, it was important to pray to each one of the Seven Goddesses to ensure you didn’t ignore one and invoke their wrath. That meant praying took a long time. By the end, I’mya was disappointed that she felt the same—grief still weighed on her—but she was glad for Tiiu, who was visibly uplifted.

  As the first week progressed, the mood in the lair began to shift. Other kon’ayas’ gaze lingered on her longer than necessary, whispering and hushed tones followed her in the corridors, and even the servants watched her with interest as she traveled around the lair.

  “Everyone is talking about you and the master,” Elora admitted when I’mya asked her about it.

  “What are they saying?” I’mya asked, apprehension gripping her stomach. She didn’t want to have any problems with the other people in the lair. It would mean being constantly on edge, like when she was in the North cities, and it would make life unbearable.

  “Different things—nothing horr
ible,” Elora said. “Some of the kon’ayas want to talk to you, but Dayatha is telling them to let you be.”

  “Why?”

  Elora shrugged. “I think she’s trying to settle them—maintain a calm environment.”

  “So they’re angry?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  I’mya chewed her lip as she thought. “Do you think you could arrange a talk with them?”

  Elora’s eyes widened. “Do you think that’s a good idea?”

  “We are all in the same position, Elora. The dragorai is just entertained with me at the moment—I don’t want them to think I’ve tried to replace them or something. And I have questions for them too.”

  By that afternoon, they were all gathered in the library.

  There were about fifteen of them in total, not including the group that arrived with I’mya, and they were all quite different—a range of ages, skin shades, shapes, height…. I’mya couldn’t see any commonality between them except that they were all female, shapely, and had at least shoulder-length hair. It was strange to know that the dragorai had bedded the majority, but she pushed the feeling aside—they were all in the same situation.

  They sat closely together in a closed-in area of the library that had soft furnishings on the floor, allowing servants to read while lying down or stretched out on the ground.

  I’mya smiled, nerves jittering in her stomach as she approached the group. They all smiled back, though were clearly curious.

  “This is I’mya,” Elora said. “She’s really excited to meet you all.”

  “We haven’t seen you around the lair,” an older woman with broad shoulders commented, as I’mya sat down on the floor beside them. “Have you been here as long as Syb and Nureen?”

  I’mya nodded. “I spent most of my time trying to familiarize myself with the lair,” she explained. “I struggled a little with…” She wasn’t sure how to explain herself. “Everything. Adjusting was very strange for me.”