Pretty Painful

by K. A Knight

  Am I human…or am I something else? Did they make me something else or was I born that way and I just didn’t know?

  “I killed them,” I whisper, not realising I have said it out loud until he leans in.

  “Killed who?” he asks with interest, tracking his eyes over my body again.

  “The-the men who killed my-my sister,” I stutter. “I-I don’t know how. It was like time slowed down and I just—I punched one in the chest, stopping his heart. How is that possible?” I murmur, looking to him for answers.

  He stares at me, that fucking blank mask in place. “Maybe you aren’t human,” he suggests.

  A choked laugh escapes my throat as tears form in my eyes. “How is that possible?” I get up and start pacing. “I was human! I was born human!” I scream, looking at him. Like I’m lost at sea and he’s my lighthouse, I need him to guide me.

  He sits farther back. “Bloodlines are weakening due to low birth rates, interracial matings, and the killings. I am betting it has diluted the bloodlines of most creatures out there. It’s possible you were born with the blood of a supernatural, your whole family could have been, and they wouldn’t have known. It probably wasn’t strong enough to pass your human side until...” He nods. “Until you needed it, until it was all you had left.”

  I sit again, deflating. “You’re saying there are people out there just walking around with supernatural qualities hidden?” I laugh.

  He shrugs. “Who knows, probably. They wouldn’t even notice unless they had a lot of the blood left from their original lines, or if it was pulled from them, destroying their humanity in the process. I can’t really say. I’ve been locked in here too long to know.”

  “How long have you been in here?” I find myself asking.

  “Over one hundred years,” he grunts.

  “Well, shit. At least I know I will be dead long before that, thank fuck.”

  “Don’t be so sure. If you truly have blood of the originals, you might live for a long time depending how strong it is or what you are.” He shrugs.

  “What I am?” I whisper, swallowing hard. “You said I would get this from my parents?” I inquire.

  “Yes,” he answers. “Your sister might have been as well.”

  It twists something inside of me and my voice is bitter when it comes out next. “Doubtful.”

  “Why is that, little one?” he growls, sounding genuinely interested.

  “She wasn’t my sister by blood,” I say, staring at him, letting those black eyes ground me even while they make me want to crawl over there again and feel his heat. Would he feel that warm all the time? When he touched me…inside me? Licking my lips, I refocus on him. “I was adopted when I was three, I never knew my biological parents. The couple who adopted me thought they couldn’t have kids, Rachel, my sister, was a surprise and the doctors called her a miracle.”

  “Blood or not, she was your sister, correct?” he rumbles and I nod, biting back tears.

  “I have brothers,” he offers and then frowns, like he is unsure why he said that, but I grasp onto it, anything to distract me from the pain in my chest.

  “How many?” I ask, sitting back and crossing my legs at the ankles.

  He copies the movement, his eyes closing again, letting me finally breathe normally with those orbs no longer on me. “Six,” he replies.

  I don’t reply, knowing he needs sleep and I don’t want to piss him off. I watch him as he slumbers, wondering how he isn’t mad if it’s been one hundred years. Well, madder than he is. What is he? I never asked. Do I believe this whole…supernatural thing? But I can’t deny what I did, no human could do that. If I’m capable of killing four men…what is he capable of? He’s old, I know that, ancient, if I believe his words.

  It makes me wonder how they captured him. His eyes slit open, like a snake, and focus on me. “I can hear the cogs in your head turning, little one. Try to rest, there is not much else do in here.”

  I nod, looking away and feeling guilty for being caught staring, even though he doesn’t seem to mind. I glance back every now and again, and I notice he sleeps lightly. Whenever I even so much as shift, his eyes flash open and lock on me until he growls. I gasp, letting out a little scream as he flashes quickly across the room. One second, he was against the wall, the next he is scooping me in his arms. He sits back down where he was and drops me in his lap, locking his arms around me and closing his eyes again.

  “Err, Mishal?” I ask, almost a squeak.

  He ignores me so I poke his chest. Those eyes flash open as he looks down at me with an arched eyebrow. “What?” he growls.

  “Erm, why am I in your lap?” I query. Hell, not that I’m complaining since he is a lot comfier than the stone.

  “Because if you didn’t stop fucking moving, I’m never going to get any sleep, so close your eyes, little one, so I can rest.” He shuts his eyes like that decides everything and I huff.

  I don’t know why I do it, other than his manhandling annoyed me, but I dart forward and bite his pec, hard. I freeze, as does he, and I wonder what the fuck I’m doing, biting like an animal. I pull back, ready to apologize, but his hand comes up and cups the back of his head, keeping me to his chest. “At least use some fucking teeth if you are trying to hurt me,” he says with a groan.

  I push backwards and he finally lets go of my head, laughing under his breath as I turn in his lap and face the cell, with my face on fire. “That’s what I thought, like a kitten with claws.” He laughs, his chest vibrating against my back, and I cross my arms, muttering under my breath about stupid men.

  I sigh and eventually soften into him, relaxing when it becomes clear he has no intentions of letting me go. “What are you?” I ask, deciding to trust what he said was true—probably a stupid move, but it’s better than going crazy.

  “You really want to know, or will it frighten you away? Because, little one, I really like the feel of this delicious ass pressed against my cock,” he whispers, his words licking along my skin.

  “I want to know,” I reply breathlessly, trying to ignore my traitorous body, which is lighting up for him.

  “Your people used to call me a god, born of the original titans, seven brothers with seven different strengths. I was the dragon, the one who burned the world to let it rebuild,” he answers, watching me closely.

  “You’re a dragon god?” I ask, confused.

  “Essentially, I was the first dragon, the very first. The rest are mere descendants of my line,” he replies, indulging me.

  “So, you have lots of dragon children, what a slut,” I tease.

  He laughs again, holding me closer. “No, no children, little one. Children only come from a mating and gods are not given mates. A very long time ago, I gave a human my blood to save his life. He transformed into a dragon, and so the dragon shifters were born, part dragon, part human. My dragon is a different animal altogether, he is not me and I am not him, unlike shifters.”

  “What’s his name?” I query.

  “They used to call him Nyre, but he has many names,” he murmurs, and I shit you not, I feel something move under his skin when he says the name.

  “Ny-re, I like it,” I say softly, and the movement comes again, making Mishal grunt.

  “He likes his name on your tongue too much, little one.” He grunts again.

  “Nyre does?” I ask, turning to look.

  Mishal’s jaw is clenched, his eyes wide as he clamps his hands on the stone floor, almost breaking his nails.

  “Yes,” he hisses, his mouth transforming slightly.

  “He cannot get out?” I whisper, asking in horror as it looks like the dragon is trying to break free from his skin.

  Cuts open on his chest, yet he doesn’t scream or wince, like long, thick claws…or talons, are hurting him from the inside.

  “He is trying to answer your call, the chains—they keep him inside my human skin. It has been so long since he was free. It’s not good for him or me,” he growls, and I gasp whe
n his eyes turn gold, actually gold, with green around the outside, with a warm glow emitting from inside his usually black eyes.

  “Nyre,” I whisper, knowing he’s hurting Mishal while trying to escape. I lean closer, pressing my hands to his chest. “Please, please stop,” I beg, unsure why.

  The movement under his skin stills, and those eyes remain locked on me before they bleed to black. Mishal blinks a few times, looking at me as he settles back into the wall. “Who are you to command the serpent of the Earth?” he questions, more like he’s confused than demanding.

  I lift my hands from his chest, feeling strange touching him so familiarly, but when I do the smell of his blood hits me. I turn my hands over to see it coating my palms, the bright red almost calling to me, begging me to taste. It smells like campfires and nights under the sky, and I struggle to keep myself from reaching out and licking it from my skin.

  “It is just a cut,” he offers, misjudging my frozen look, ignorant to my inner struggle.

  Groaning, I bring my hand to my face and lick a long line down my palm. The taste of him explodes in my mouth—night, fire, pleasure, and sin—until I’m licking my hands clean, wanting more, my teeth and body aching. Once the blood is gone, I look up and freeze at his arched eyebrow. Horror and disgust race through me, I can’t believe I just did that. Holy fuck. What the hell is wrong with me? I licked his blood from my skin for God’s sake!

  He watches me, unblinking and silent, before dragging a finger down his cut on his chest and raising it between us, with the ruby drops racing down his finger. I watch in hunger, holding myself back, but with a cry I grab it and suck it into my mouth, groaning at the taste of him. He moans, his other hand holding my head as I suck and lick his finger clean.

  I stop before flinging back, horrified with myself. I skate backwards on my ass and hands as he watches me, the blood slowly dripping down his chest, making my mouth ache again and need blossom inside me. Not just for his body, but for his very essence in his veins. He gets to his knees slowly and crawls to me. I freeze, lying on the floor, trying to force myself to stop. He hovers over me.

  “Feed,” he orders, but I have no idea what he is on about.

  He swipes his thumb over my lips and brings it between us showing me the blood on it before he sucks it clean. I lick my lips, catching the taste of him, my eyes drifting down to the blood still calling to me.

  “Feed,” he growls again.

  A dam breaks within me, the scent of him driving me wild until I grab his shoulders and flip us. I hover over his stomach, bending down and licking along the cut. Heat blossoms in my chest, mixing with the warmth from his blood as I swallow it. It spreads throughout my body, and I can feel it moving through my veins until I’m on fire, needing more, needing it all. My pussy pulses as desire smashes into me with such velocity that I cry out, rubbing against his stomach for friction. His hands come to my hips, holding hard but not stopping me as I grind against him, still lapping at the cut.

  I lift my head when the blood stops and look at him, panting, no doubt with his blood smeared on my lips and chin, but he doesn’t seem bothered, in fact he looks hungry…for me. One of his hands leaves my hip and traces up until he presses his thumb into my parted lips. I suck it before letting him go. He feels around my teeth, tracing along the gums behind them before stopping to the right of my mouth. He presses down on a sensitive spot there that I didn’t even know I had, and I cry out around his hand, grinding harder against his stomach.

  He does the same thing on the other side of my gums before pulling his fingers free. I watch in rapt fascination, not quite in control, as he digs his fingers into the cut on his chest, blood welling onto his fingers. Before I can protest, not that I would right now, he presses them back into my mouth—right over the gums where those sensitive spots were—and I feel something break free, dropping down and slicing open his fingers. Blood trails into my mouth and I swallow it. That fire increases, becoming an inferno burning so hot under my skin that it feels like it’s blistering from the inside out.

  “Nightwalker,” he whispers.

  Mishal

  She’s a fucking nightwalker, a vampire, not human at all. She groans, her eyes wild and pained, the green increasing until they are glowing like lights from her face. My blood drips from her lips and chin, and onto my chest again. She looks fucking beautiful, especially when I pull my fingers back and she whimpers, her big fangs hanging over her bottom lip.

  She whimpers again, her eyes scrunching, and I’m betting she is in pain right now. If she has never fed before, her other side will be drinking her from the inside out. I saw the same happen with my brother. If she doesn’t feed, it will consume her until she is rabid, and she will feed on anything or anyone…including herself. Nyre growls in my head, offering to make more cuts so she can feed.

  “Feed,” I order, grabbing the back of her head. I expected her to resist, but maybe the hunger or the pain is too much, because she cries out, flashing fang, and darts in. There is no hesitation as she sinks her fangs into my neck, forcing a grunt from my lips.

  She is still moving against my stomach, rocking her pussy against me, driving me wild as she sucks at my throat. Each draw of her mouth feels like it’s linked directly to my cock, like she is sucking it. Fuuuccck. Nyre roars in my head, wanting her to sink her fangs into him, but I ignore him as she grabs my face and forces it to the side, giving her better access to my neck to feed. She drinks deep and I hold her head to me, letting her have however much she wants. She moves down my body, her pussy rubbing over my cock in my pants. My balls draw up, my stomach clenching as I grind my teeth, trying not to come just from her fangs in my neck and her riding me through my pants.

  She pulls her teeth out and turns my head, biting again and making me roar as I grab her hips and rub her against me, coming so hard I see stars. She whimpers into my neck, her body stilling over me and shaking as I feel her find her release. Shit, if that’s what she feels like through clothes and from her bite—I am lost.

  I want to bury my cock so deep inside her so she can have her fangs in my body as I fuck her hard, ringing release after release from her, just to hear those little noises again and watch her body sway on me as she rides me. Nyre agrees, huffing in my head, wanting her to ride him as well.

  That can only mean one thing, she is my mate…which is impossible since gods don’t have mates, but the little minx in my arms still slurping down my blood shatters that logic.

  She is mine and I plan to make the whole world know.

  She lets go of her second bite and sits back, blood still dripping from her mouth and those fangs hanging over her bottom lip as she stares at me with flowing eyes. “You taste so good. I could barely stop.” Her eyes flutter closed and she groans, rubbing herself on me again and my cock re-hardens, ready for her.

  She moans, her hands landing on my chest as she throws her head back. She looks like a goddess. Her hair is silkier, her skin brighter, and I can feel the power my blood has given her saturating the air, collecting, willing to do her bidding whatever that may be.

  Grabbing her hands, I roll her beneath me and push my hips between her thighs so I can feel her heat along my cock. “You are high on the blood,” I inform her.

  Nyre growls in my head, wanting to relieve our mate.

  “Fuck me,” she begs.

  I grip her cheeks, forcing her to look at me, and I see the haze in her eyes. The first time a nightwalker feeds is supposed to have a drugging effect. “No,” I growl, and she whimpers. “When I fuck you, little one—not if, but when—you will be completely here, and focused on me pounding into that little pussy. Not high on my blood.”

  She whimpers again, thrashing beneath me and making Nyre roar. He wants her and doesn’t like her suffering, even if it’s to protect her. “It burns, God, Mishal, it hurts. Please,” she pleads.

  My name on her tongue makes me growl and rub harder against her pussy, wanting to be buried there, but I draw back, knowing she wo
uld regret it if I took her now. “Drink, little one.” I offer her my wrist and she rips into it, her bite tearing open my skin and making me grunt in satisfaction.

  Nyre feels the same way, knowing he is providing for his mate. I might not offer her the satisfaction of release, but she can have my blood as much as she wants, she could drain me fucking dry if she wanted to. Eventually, her feeding slows until she is just licking at the wound before she lets go and drops back to the floor, looking dazed and tired.

  She needs to rest so the change can sweep through her body, so it can rebuild her. “Sleep now, little one, I will watch over you.”

  I sweep her into my arms, cradling her to my chest as I give my back to the door, blocking her from them. She is limp, barely with it, but I watch her close her eyes with a satisfied, lazy smile on her face.

  I watch her sleep, refusing to rest in case they try and take her. They would have a fight on their hands, because once a dragon claims something as his, you better expect him to keep it. Nothing or no one will take away Nyre’s mate, and let’s just say the little human is growing on me too.

  Dabria

  I wake warm again. Flipping over, my hands land on a hard...purring chest? I look up to see Nyre looking out of Mishal’s eyes, his body wrapped around mine, protecting me while I slept. I can still taste his blood in my mouth but that need, that burning, that hunger, seems sated. I still swallow it down, almost moaning at the taste, but I know I’ve satisfied whatever came over me.

  Nightwalker. I have fangs and drink blood. I can put two and two together. I’m a fucking vampire, can’t say I expected that. It’s like surprise bitch, you’re a fanger now. Well, technically I guess I was never really human if what Mishal said is true, this side of me was always there, buried and waiting to be let free.