A Lair So Sinful

by Zoey Ellis

  “Then clan business has concluded,” Sethorn said. “Welcome to our family, I’mya.”

  16

  It was strange to be back in Nyro’s chambers, or their chambers as he termed it.

  Nothing much had changed, and yet the room looked different to I’mya now. The first thing Nyro did when he walked into the room was to remove the bedsheets she used to cover herself.

  “Nyro!” She grabbed for it, but he threw it to one side and grabbed her. She struggled against him, annoyed that he was forcing the issue. “Why can’t you just respect what I want? I’m the one who has to accept looking at myself like this and knowing why.”

  “Quiet, I’mya.”

  She glared up at him, her mouth tight. It was her body. He couldn’t make decisions that she wasn’t comfortable with.

  He picked up a material from the bed. “This is your dress for the ceremony.”

  I’mya mouth dropped. “Where is the rest of it?”

  “This is what I want to see you in.”

  “Half of it’s missing!” she exclaimed.

  “Yes. Because it will show one of your best and most unique features.”

  I’mya snorted. “How?”

  Nyro placed the dress down and pointed at the full-length mirror on the other side of the room. “You can see in there.”

  I’mya scowled. Why did everyone have to be so cryptic? She took a deep breath, glancing again at the dress.

  “I would not put you on display if I didn’t think you are stunning, I’mya,” Nyro said quietly. “Just look.”

  Taking a deep breath, she walked to the mirror and was shocked at what she saw.

  There were no burn marks on her skin at all. It looked exactly as it had before. The only difference was on her left side. Down the left side of her neck, covering her entire shoulder, her left breast, and her whole left arm were skin-colored scales. They blended in with the rest of her body, except they had a gold sheen when she moved in the light—exactly how Sanderyll’s scale glimmered.

  She stepped closer to the mirror to examine every single part of her body on the left side. The scales were quite small, but they had a satiny feel to them, like the diamond area on Sanderyll. “This is what you meant when you said transition?”

  “The physical part of it, yes,” Nyro said.

  “San’s fire did this?”

  “And my bite,” Nyro said.

  Yes, that was right. The bite had been the worst area of the pain when she’d been burned. Did that mean she had some kind of bond or connection with Sanderyll like Nyro did? I’mya turned to him, watching him closely. Nyro picked up the dress and handed it to her.

  It was a long, fitted dress, and when I’mya put it on she could see why parts of it were missing. The scaled area of her body was left bare. She would be bearing one breast, one arm, one shoulder, and the side of her neck that had the scales and the claiming bite. She examined the mirror and glanced at Nyro. “You want me to bare a breast like this?” she asked hesitantly.

  “On this one occasion, I am perfectly happy for others outside our lair to see how beautiful you are,” Nyro said. “But no one will touch you but me.”

  “Is it normal for one breast to be scaled like this?” she asked. The skin on her breast was firmer and her nipple sturdier.

  “Yes. In the past, dragorai-omegas have sometimes had to nurse on that breast, especially if they bore alphas.”

  I’mya took a deep breath. There was so much to learn.

  “Your steward will be able to help you understand everything,” Nyro reminded her, encircling her in his arms. “And I will too.”

  I’mya nodded, pushing away the overwhelming feelings that threatened. So much was changing in the lair, and it was easy to forget she had so much support.

  Since Nyro had no more use of the kon’ayas, Dayatha had become I’mya’s personal steward.

  It made I’mya nervous at first because of how their friendship began, but Dayatha was like a different person since she had returned. She no longer had a cool facade—it seemed she was too excited to maintain it. She adored that Nyro had a mate, and I’mya suspected that she had been hoping for a long time for some sign that the dragorais would not die out.

  Once, when I’mya was getting dressed and Dayatha flitted around the room, I’mya realized something. She turned to her. “You have a strange scent.” Why had I’mya never noticed it before? Dayatha didn’t smell like an omega or a non-dynamic, and she didn’t look like an alpha.

  Dayatha paused. “It is very subtle.” Turning to I’mya, she smiled. “Your sense of smell has developed.”

  I’mya noticed her smile was uneasy. She placed a hand on Dayatha’s arm. “What is it?”

  Dayatha seemed uncomfortable, but she sat on the bed and patted a spot next to her. “Do you know what a hollow is?”

  “I recall reading that term in an old text about the dragorai,” I’mya said slowly. “It is a dragorai who doesn’t have a dragon. Is that right?”

  Dayatha nodded. “Back when the Dragorai Age was thriving, it was a derogatory term. There were instances where the immediate bond between alpha and dragon didn’t happen, for a number of reasons, or the female dragon never found her omega-counterpart. It was considered a defect and highly undesirable to the clans. Hollows were mocked and sometimes treated worse than lesser-mortals. Most hollows offer their services to the clan lairs for a life of peaceful solitude and service.” She glanced at I’mya. “That is the time I come from. My dragon was murdered after my burning, so the transition was distorted and I ended up with a strange scent.”

  “I’m so sorry, Dayatha,” I’mya said softly.

  Dayatha shrugged, a smile on her face. “I have been happy here. Since the attack on dragons, hollows have come to mean something less offensive, and it’s something all the stewards share.”

  I’mya hesitated, remembering something. “When I first arrived, you kept what you knew about the dragorai vague.”

  She nodded. “We tend not to share that information to new recruits on their first day, most of them have heard rumors so we don’t like to encourage. But most things are kept between the stewards.”

  I’mya patted her hand. “Well, I am glad you and the others are here with us. Your knowledge and advice has been invaluable.”

  Dayatha smiled and returned to fixing the bed, her posture more relaxed and a smile on her face.

  Most of the time, Nyro and I’mya buried themselves in bed and in each other for days on end.

  The attraction between them was even more powerful now that they had bonded—I’mya was still getting used to the feeling of layered emotions, and it was difficult to tell which were Nyro’s and which were Sanderyll’s. If she focused on Nyro, filtering out his emotions, they became incredibly nuanced. It was almost like reading his mind, and what she learned cemented her understanding of how he felt about her.

  He revered her above all else, considered her the most stimulating individual he’d ever met. And when he was between her legs… I’mya burned with embarrassment at the things he thought. But it wasn’t as though he couldn’t do the same. He knew she secretly enjoyed his seed marking her, and now she was bonded with him, she understood his urge to do it.

  As a result, their sex was messier, longer, highly scented, and was instigated at the slightest thought.

  Dayatha and Elora visited every day, fussing over I’mya and checking to see if she was healthy. Both were keen for I’mya to be with child by her next heat and they wanted to do everything they could to make it happen. Nyro annoyingly agreed with everything Dayatha said, as did the rest of the clan.

  Meeting Nyro’s brothers had been nerve-wracking, but she was glad that it had happened. They seemed reasonable about things, unlike Nyro.

  Strangely, they all looked quite different—it was their size that united them.

  On the way back to their lair after the meeting, I’mya mentioned it. “I was surprised that you and your brothers are so different. You
all have different features and skin tones and mannerisms. And… I think you all speak different dialects.”

  “How do you know that?” Nyro had asked.

  “Your echoes are all slightly different,” I’mya said, thinking back. “And also some were quicker than others. Yours is quickest. Sethorn is slowest… Khyros is mixed.”

  “Yes,” Nyro said, pleased. “We are all from different parents and parts of the Twin Realms.”

  “But how are you brothers, then?”

  “Our dragons are all blood brothers.”

  I’mya had been surprised. “So the dragons really determine a lot?”

  Nyro had nodded. “Yes, but only we five could have been brothers. The fact we are the last remaining for so long is evidence of that—I don’t see them as anything else.”

  Over the weeks, they had been trying to figure out what the best course of action would be for the kon’ayas, but they disagreed on some particulars. I’mya felt that everything should stay the same, apart from their studies, but that they could continue amorous activities in private rooms, especially if I’mya was with child. But Nyro firmly insisted that it was against dragorai culture—no one in a lair should be a “spare.” He suggested offering the kon’ayas to his brothers, but I’mya was firmly against that. Splitting them up was not an option, and neither was sending them somewhere I’mya couldn’t get updates about how they were doing.

  “You’re not their mother, I’mya,” Nyro said irritably when they last discussed it.

  “If you have no control over what happens in your brothers’ lair, then I can’t risk it! They are lovely women. Let me think about it.”

  However, one afternoon, I’mya was practicing on the Dao board when Dayatha entered with Elora. Nyro stood by the windows, his hands clasped behind his back, watching the range. When the woman entered, he turned.

  “I appreciate you reacting quickly to the summons,” he said to them both. Dayatha translated for Elora, who nodded and smiled nervously at I’mya.

  I’mya stood up from the board, confused. “Did you summon them here, Nyro?”

  “Yes,” Nyro said.

  “Why?”

  “We have some clan business.”

  I’mya frowned. He hadn’t mentioned anything before.

  Nyro then addressed Elora. “Do you know why the Forbidden Mountains have that name?”

  “Um… yes,” she said tentatively, after Dayatha translated.

  “Why?”

  “To prevent people from trespassing on your territories.” Elora’s were wide and her knuckles were white as she gripped the edge of her tunic. I’mya was sure she was trembling. Suddenly, she realized that Elora had never met Nyro before. She and the other girls that I’mya had arrived with had never been in the same room as him. “And also to protect yourselves.”

  “Good,” Nyro said. “It means that if someone is found on our territories, their fate belongs to us. We can induct them into our lair, we can hunt them, we can do what ever we wish. They belong to us.”

  Elora nodded. “It helps keep people away when they know they could suffer that fate.”

  Nyro smiled. “I’m glad you are familiar with it.” He moved from the window to stand next to I’mya. “My trackers tell me that when you arrived to the meeting point to be brought here, you crossed through another dragorai’s territory.”

  I’mya gasped, and Elora paled.

  “He is demanding that you be returned to him since you were on his territory first.”

  Elora opened her mouth, but she couldn’t speak.

  “Does that mean she has to leave our lair,” I’mya breathed.

  “Yes, fireball. I’m sorry. I have been in argument about it since the day I met you.”

  “Who’s lair?”

  “Zendyor.”

  Zendyor seemed like a very strong personality with a very hot temper, but ultimately, he had been supportive of I’mya in the meeting. On top of that, clan law appeared very specific, and they had rules and traditions that I’mya didn’t understand. There was probably a law about this.

  Elora’s lips pressed tightly together as tears filled her eyes. “I understand, Master. I mistook some of the instructions and thought it would be easier to cross through another way. If I hadn’t, I would have missed the appointment and never would have arrived here. I didn’t think I’d been noticed.”

  “You were,” Nyro said, plainly. “But I have agreed that you will remain here for two new moons so you can be here for I’mya’s ordination.”

  Elora breathed out a heavy sigh. “I appreciate that, thank you.” But she was somber as she left the room.

  “Can nothing be done?” I’mya asked, her voice trembling. “She just made a mistake!” Elora had been her closest friend throughout her time in her lair. And now she was being sent away.

  Nyro drew her into his arms. “I know she is your friend, I’mya. This was not easy for me to do knowing that, but it was already brought in front of the clan, and recently Zen sent word it was a female with golden hair. I cannot pretend she is not here. He will see her at the ordination.”

  It was already made clear that neither she nor Nyro could interfere with another lair, so there was no guarantee she would even see Elora again. I’mya swallowed her sobs, but tears trickled onto her cheeks. “Isn’t there a way that we can make sure she is… all right?”

  Nyro saw her tears and exhaled a breath as though they anguished him. “I will ensure he knows that she is expected to be treated well.”

  When the clan announced her ordination to the Vattoro clan, everything became crazed.

  The lair was in chaos, with everyone rushing about to organize and plan. Dayatha tried to explain what an “ordination” was, but she was so excited she looked like she was going to faint, so I’mya sent her to lie down. Nyro couldn’t stop thinking about having her on his knot, so that was how she spent most of the days following the announcement. The other lairs sent gifts and treats for I’mya alone, as well as some for I’mya and Nyro, and then additional gifts for the whole lair which led to many of their own staff wanting to prepare or make something for the ceremony… it was disorder everywhere.

  One afternoon, I’mya quickly slipped away to the quieter areas of the lair. She found herself in the spot she’d gone her first day here. When she saw the large round sapphire stone embedded in the wall, she remembered why the king had taught her to navigate this area. It was Sanderyll’s part of the lair. She walked past the opening that Sanderyll had attacked her through, and where she first met Nyro, pausing only for a moment to recall it. Then she carried on, twisting around the corridors to where she knew the dragon rested and slept.

  The closer she got, the more she was able to focus on his distinct awareness and emotions. And it was heavy, weighted. And as she turned into an enormous cavern area, she was stunned to see him sitting in the center, in a huge carved-out pit in the ground. To one side was his entrance to the cavern, and littered around the space were random glittering objects. This was clearly his area of the lair. He lifted his head as I’mya entered and then rested his head back down, huffing out a gust of hot air. There was a strange musky smell surrounding him, mixed with the sharp scent of the mountains, rotting flesh and old smoke.

  I’mya stood frozen, shocked to see the creature so close up. This was the dragon that had caused so much anguish—simply by trying to find his alpha’s mate. The heavy feeling was strongest here. Did that mean it was coming from him? Nyro insisted she could feel San’s emotions like he could, but she’d never made a concentrated effort to try.

  She stepped toward her dragon, and her lingering surprise fell away. She kept inching forward until she was right by his front foot, and then she climbed over it to be closest to his head. A low moan came from his throat that echoed in the cave area, and the heavy weight of emotion was almost unbearable. I’mya sat by his arm, resting her body against him and she opened up to the bond. Suddenly she understood.

  He was lonely.
>
  Sanderyll was deeply lonely, desperate for his mate but knowing that he had not sensed her yet. The dragon did not understand that there were no more female dragons, he only understood that there was I’mya—his alpha’s mate—and she had to be protected and kept for when his mate arrived.

  His desperation was so strong within his loneliness that it had affected his need to get to her every time he sensed her, every time she summoned him.

  His emotion was so heavy, her own tears began to fall, and she could not stop weeping. “I’m so sorry, Sanderyll,” she said softly. “I’m so sorry for hurting you.” She placed a hand on his foot, stroking his dry scales, trying anything she could to soothe him. How could any being live with such a weight on their emotions? Couldn’t Nyro feel it? Couldn’t he have done something to help him?

  As she stroked him and patted his foot, she felt the burden he carried softening.

  “You are not alone,” she whispered to him, projecting as much assuredness and love as she could through the bond. “You have me, you have Nyro, you have your brothers. You are not alone.”

  Sanderyll huffed out another gust of smoky heat from his nostrils.

  I’mya stayed there, leaning against his foot, comfortable with him for the first time, then fell asleep.

  When she woke, Nyro was carrying her through the corridors. “This is unacceptable, I’mya,” he was grounding out.

  “What is it now?” she said sleepily.

  “You do not visit Sanderyll and fall asleep at his side!” Nyro’s eyes flashed.

  “Why not?” I’mya asked, confused. “You said that he was my dragon too?”

  Nyro simply flashed her a dangerous look, and the bond told her all she needed to know.

  She suppressed a smile, almost laughing when she realized the full truth. “You are jealous of your own dragon!”

  “I am not jealous of you spending time with him,” he bellowed. “But it is my bed you sleep in! Only mine!”