A Lair So Primal (The Last Dragorai Book 3)

by Zoey Ellis

  Oshali neared her bed and was about to take her hand but thought better of it, looking down at the healing hot-pink skin. “If a Goddess chose to appear to you, no matter the reason, it means you’re special, Elora. They haven’t appeared to anyone in centuries; not the dragorai, not the Mheyu, not any of the people who pray to them across the Twin Realms every day.”

  Elora bit her lip and nodded. That was true.

  “I’d love to hear about it when you are feeling better,” Oshali added. She leaned forward. “I heard you also breathed fire.”

  I’mya’s mouth dropped open. “You breathed fire?”

  “You’re the first one of us to do that,” Oshali said to her.

  Elora nodded, her smile wide. “Yes, but I don’t advise doing it. It really hurts afterward.”

  She looked between them. "Thank you. It took a lot of heartache and suffering that I would have preferred not to have gone through, but I am glad to be with Zendyor now."

  "And we are glad you’re with us,” I’mya said, coming around to the other side of the bed.

  “By the Seven!” Elora exclaimed. “You’re pregnant, I’mya!”

  I’mya laughed, her hand drifting to her round stomach. “I am, I am, didn’t anyone tell you? Dayatha has been my army general.”

  “No!” Elora said, affronted. “I’m going to have some hard words with Zendyor when he comes back in here.”

  "He's upset with me," I'mya said. "He broke the Dao board I gifted to you and then expected me not to be annoyed about it."

  Elora couldn't stop laughing. “Yes, I gathered. But it’s not true that he’s upset with you," Elora said. "He respects you and wants to protect you as part of the clan. And I think he definitely likes you," Elora said. "But I sense it’s more that he has a difficult relationship with Nyro."

  I'mya nodded. "I have felt that too. It seems like it is improving, so I don't interfere."

  "Yes," Elora agreed. "They are proud and boisterous sometimes, but there is a strong love between all of them. It’s remarkable."

  "It is,” I’mya agreed. “Her mate"—she pointed at Oshali—"is the peacemaker of them all."

  Elora tilted her head, giving I’mya a wide-eyed look. "I just realized that you know all about the brothers. Tell me what the other two are like!"

  "There's nothing much to tell," I'mya said. "The head of the clan, Khyros, isn't very talkative. I'm not sure how much he socializes with the brothers outside of their meetings."

  "I always see him on the back of somebody else's dragon whenever they’re together," Elora said, thinking back to when she noticed him.

  Oshali and I'mya exchanged a glance. "His dragon is missing," I'mya said.

  Elora gasped.

  "No one knows where he is."

  "That must be terrible for him," Elora murmured.

  "I'm doing some research into where he could be," Oshali said. "They have been sightings of him in some of the Mheyu records."

  "Do you think you'll find something?" I'mya asked.

  "I feel confident I will," Oshali said. "I just wish I could do everything quicker."

  The other two nodded.

  “What about Sethorn?” Elora asked. “He seems really authoritative.”

  “Don’t let that fool you,” Oshali said. “He is the charmer.”

  "Except for Uraya," I'mya pointed out. "He couldn't charm her if his life depended on it."

  "Yes," Oshali giggled. "I don’t know what is going on with those two. I don't know why they don't just bed each other and get it over with."

  "I don’t think it’s that," I'mya said thoughtfully. “He likes his woman to adore him, and I think he gets annoyed that she doesn’t pay any attention to his attempts to charm her.”

  “Wait, what’s her name?” Elora asked.

  “Uraya.”

  “Did she… is she the one the queen wanted back?”

  Both I’mya and Oshali sobered. “Yes,” Oshali said.

  “Why is she with the clan?”

  “She’s not really,” I’mya said. “She helped Oshali and now the clan owes her a debt. Plus she has lots of information on the queen because she was one of her wardens.”

  Elora shivered involuntarily.

  “I’m sorry,” I’mya said, carefully taking her burned hand. “I don’t have to talk about—”

  “No, no. Go on.”

  “Uraya used to be a warden, but now she’s helping us. She’s very good at strategy and so is Sethorn, so they clash a lot. Like I said before, I think a lot of it has to do with the fact he can’t charm her. He’s probably annoyed.”

  “She’ll be at the next clan meeting after your ordination,” Oshali said tentatively. “Is that all right?”

  “It’s fine,” Elora said. “As long as she’s not a warden and working for the queen or wearing that horrid black and red outfit, I’ll be fine with her.”

  Oshali smiled at her. “She is really nice. I think you’ll like her.”

  Elora smiled back, her eyes lowering to I’mya’s stomach. “How far along are you? Will the baby be arriving soon?”

  “Define soon?” I’mya retorted.

  “Dragorai pregnancies last longer than normal,” Oshali said to Elora.

  "Oh no," Elora groaned. "Guess what the first thing Zendyor wants to do?" She rolled her eyes at the other women. "He wanted to get my burning out of the way because he knows my heat is coming soon. Though he's been pretty active, even though it hasn't arrived yet."

  The other omegas laughed.

  “How is everyone at the lair?" Elora asked I'mya.

  "They're great now," I'mya said. "The month you left, it was as if somebody had died, but they're really excited that you’re Zendyor’s mate. Nureen is beside herself with excitement."

  Elora pouted. "Aw, I miss her. Tell me everything that's happened since I left."

  Oshali and I'mya stayed for an hour before Marahl came to usher them out, saying that Elora needed her rest. Of course I’mya protested and squeezed out every moment she could, but Elora waved her away promising they would see each other soon. Even though Zendyor was with her all the time and she was satisfied and content with him, Elora was glad she had other women to talk to who were going through this new experience the same time she was.

  Elora closed her eyes and enjoyed the breeze on her face as Yorgynel soared over the range. Deep within her, the bond she shared with him and Zendyor hummed with contentment, layered with hints of other emotions from both alpha and dragon, but when they flew together like this, it was when they were all the most peaceful. She brushed her fingers over the velvety scales on the patch between his neck and shoulder blades and sighed.

  "Are you ready to meet the clan?" Zendyor asked, seated behind her. "They will all be there after your ordination."

  Elora nodded, turning her head to him. "What do you talk about in clan meetings?”

  “Anything that involves the clan on a wider scale, more than just us as individuals," Zendyor said. "But more recently, the fact we’re discovering our mates… for obvious reasons."

  Elora nodded and turned back to face front. Yorgynel tilted slightly, taking them farther around their range.

  "Yorgynel," Zendyor growled. "We need to go to the temple."

  A bluster of warmth drifted through their bond, and Zendyor exhaled in annoyance. "He enjoys having you on his back.”

  Elora beamed. "I enjoy being on his back," she said, patting the dragon. "We’ll need to spend more time doing this, don't we, Yorgy."

  Zendyor made a noise in the back of his throat. He turned her around to face him. "What did you call him?"

  "Yorgy. It’s a cute nickname, don’t you think?"

  “He is the most vicious dragon that exists in the Twin Realms," Zendyor said tersely. "He is not cute."

  Elora laughed. "You have your nickname for him, and I will have mine." She grinned. "Anyway, he likes it."

  "He likes when you give him attention, that is all," Zendyor muttered. "Not the nam
e."

  "What's the difference?" Elora asked innocently. She had to hold in her laugh at Zendyor's displeased expression. "Now I just need to find a cute nickname for you,” she said, lifting a hand to stroke his cheek.

  The dragorai growled, but the more he looked at her, the more it softened until it petered out. He pulled her in and kissed her, dominating her tongue and savoring her until she was dizzy with arousal.

  He chuckled and turned her back around. "You can call me whatever you want," he muttered as he nuzzled his nose behind her ear.

  They finally approached the mountain that held the temple.

  Elora had come to recognize the kind of mountains suitable for dragorai lairs. They had to be a specific shape and size in order to accommodate everything needed. This one was exceptionally large, since the dragorai temple was located on its peak.

  Zendyor cast incantations to lift them off Yorgy’s back and onto the ledge at the entrance of the temple.

  "What does he do during the meetings," Elora asked, watching him as he flew around the mountain.

  "He spends time with his brothers," Zendyor said. “He’ll be disappointed they’re not here today. I just wanted to come here before our first meeting and give you time to get familiar with the temple.”

  "So," Elora said, thinking back to all the new knowledge she’d gained. “All of the dragons are blood brothers, whereas all of the alphas become brothers through their bonds with their dragons?”

  "Yes," Zendyor confirmed.

  "And that's why you all look different?"

  "Yes. But we have similar traits. They are slightly different in all of us, but we all are Vattoro," he said.

  The temple itself was astonishing. Artifacts and items of history adorned the walls; paintings and tapestries from ages that Elora had never known about were beautifully vibrant. In the center stood a large table with chairs around it, the one at the end slightly raised. That had to be Khyros’ as the head of the clan.

  “Why was it important for me to come here before the meeting?”

  “I thought you might have some knowledge about some of these items that could help us.” Elora looked around again and she did recognize some of them.

  Elora nodded at Zendyor, grateful for the time alone at the temple and for the opportunity to help her new clan. As they went through each of the items she recognized, Zendyor made a note of them in preparation for their meeting.

  13

  Elora's ordination was stunning.

  Staff from all of the lairs gathered once again, in the same way that they did for I’mya’s, except Elora looked specular. Of course, as her mate, Zendyor thought she was the most beautiful being in the world. No one could compete with her, no other woman, omega, or Goddess… no one. When he thought about it too much, he was furious that he didn’t follow his instincts sooner.

  Zendyor was not willing to allow her to bear all her scales that covered her left arm and left breast right up to her neck where he'd bitten her, and she wasn’t keen on being so exposed either. So they chose an elegant white gown with a cuff at the wrist and a slim line of fabric connecting to her shoulder, the rest of her arm bare. Zendyor had to fuck her immediately when he saw her in it—she was devastatingly gorgeous.

  The gown was designed by his staff, and her jewelry had been fashioned by a designer who used Yorgynel’s melted lumps of gold. Her golden hair was piled on top of her head and her grey eyes sparkled with excitement, turning soft whenever they looked at him. That was the bit he enjoyed the most.

  The ordination was an exciting event, with everyone cheering as he and Elora stood on Yorgynel’s back in the middle of the valley; each lair's staff gathered along either side. His brothers hovered above them in the air, Khyros reciting the vows that Elora had to repeat and agree to in order to join the clan.

  Everything went smoothly until Yorgynel became irritated about staying in the same position for so long. He reared up, ready to take flight and shoot through the air to work off his excess aggression. Zendyor forced him down using the Thrakondarian language to keep him in place, but obviously, Yorgynel fought him, as any dignified dragon would do, which wasn’t good for the smooth running of the event.

  Elora simply knelt down and placed her hand on their dan askha’s neck, murmuring to him that it wouldn’t be long and then they could all fly together. Within their bond, a calm contentment seeped in and he settled, keeping his wings down and staying in place.

  Of course, everyone watching adored this moment. After the ceremony Zendyor heard many said that Elora could tame the beast, both the man and the creature, and he couldn't deny that truth. She was perfect for him and perfect for Yorgynel. He was proud that the Goddesses chose to appear to her out of the three omegas who had mated into their clan.

  He was still infuriated about the queen’s attack on his lair and his omega, but he was holding it at bay until the right time. Never before had he wanted to storm the South and risk everything for the chance to rip that woman to shreds, but he knew it wasn’t smart. He was the one always convincing his brothers of the need for a plan, but it was hard to rationalize such an insult. The queen considered herself equal to the dragorai and a threat—she wasn’t. The only reason she didn’t die that day was because she had Elora.

  After the ceremony ended, everyone made their way back to their lairs to get ready for the clan meeting.

  When his brothers insisted on having the clan meeting directly after their ordination, he couldn’t blame them. He had postponed everything until he and Elora were formalized as mates in all the ways that mattered. He didn’t want to move forward on anything without his omega bonded to him. He wanted to feel her in his chest, know her emotions, understand her mood and what she needed, know that she had a direct connection to his dan askha, who would help her if she needed it, and most of all, he wanted her to know she was safe. Elora had been a distraction for far too long. His inability to focus and concentrate on clan business had been compromised the day she came into his lair, so he’d forced the issue to have the ordination immediately; it was the next logical step.

  Of course, Zendyor couldn’t let Elora take her dress off before he had it hitched up around her waist, her legs spread wide and his mouth on her sweet clit. She rode his tongue until she convulsed, her slick drenching his face. Then he reared up over her and slammed into her, pinning her arms over her head as he pummeled her dripping, tight, kon. She was truly and purely his, and the pleasure of that heightened the savage ecstasy that bounded through his body. Just before he came, he pulled out to lift her legs over her torso and then pounded her until they were knotted.

  Surprisingly, Elora was energized afterward and once they cleaned and changed, he called out to Yorgynel. They settled in their usual flight position on their dragon’s back and headed to the temple. When they arrived, everyone was already in attendance. Even Khyros, who usually arrived after everyone else, was already seated.

  "We need information about the queen," Sethorn started, after the greetings and time for the women to praise his mate on her ordination had taken place. Tyomar’s mate, Oshali, introduced the queen’s former warden, Uraya. "She had the ability to attack us effectively because she knew information that should not be known to anyone beyond the Forbidden Mountains."

  “I think she has demonstrated that we cannot be careless about our safety and security protocols," Tyomar said.

  "It seems to me that we have constantly underestimated both the king and queen," Zendyor said firmly. "We cannot keep doing so. They will see us as weak. We need to know the extent of their talent in Thrakondarian and any other information so we can attack immediately. No more fucking around."

  "Uraya," Oshali said. "Is there anything you can tell us?"

  Uraya had escaped the queen when the Vattoros had traveled South to assist Oshali.

  “She has a lot of ancient books she consults," Uraya said. "But I don’t know how she learned the language. I think someone taught her—someone who was profic
ient with languages when she was younger."

  "The king has books," I'mya recalled.

  “I think…,” Elora said. “They learned it together.”

  The whole table fell silent.

  “Who?” I’mya’s eyes were wide in surprise.

  “The king and queen,” Elora clarified. “They learned Thrakondarian together, which is why they cannot best each other.”

  “How do you know that?” Tyomar asked.

  Elora lifted her shoulders. “I’m not sure,”

  “That means the war is destined to go on forever,” Oshali surmised.

  Elora nodded. “The Goddess suggested that it was up to them to end it, not that there would be a victor.”

  “Well, we are not being their fucking mediators,” Nyro said, irritably. “I just want them eliminated.”

  Zendyor agreed.

  "It would be good to know what their casting ability is, though,” Uraya said. “What’s their standard of casting compared to the dragorai, for example? Are they better than the average person, or are they just able to use it?”

  “We are not average,” Sethorn said stiffly. "The fact they are able to cast at all makes them better than most lesser-mortals."

  Uraya glared at him.

  "From everything we have learned about them, everything we have studied— their bombs, the way they apply magic, their use of ember—they have a strategic plan to attack us and they’ve used their knowledge about the dragorai against us. We need a strategic plan, as well, and not rely on brute force," Sethorn said.

  "The wardens are what make the queen powerful in the South," Uraya said. "They would die for her; they are completely brainwashed, and they are highly skilled."

  "Why weren’t you?" Elora asked.

  "I was forced to be a warden because of my skills."

  "That skill may be important to us," Sethorn warned.

  Uraya inclined her head, then added, "Providing you do what you said, I have no problem helping you."

  Sethorn's face hardened. "If we are unable to defeat the queen, that agreement means nothing."