A Lair So Sinful

by Zoey Ellis

  She looked at Nyro, ignoring the positively murderous glances he was shooting his dragon. “Can you purr?”

  “Of course I can fucking purr!” he barked, clearly offended.

  I’mya raised her palms. “I’m just asking. I haven’t felt you purr before, so I was just wond—”

  “I was waiting.” Nyro’s jaw was rock hard. “He spoiled it.”

  I’mya frowned. “Waiting for what?”

  “For the right time.”

  I’mya raised a brow. “You were waiting for the right time to purr?”

  Nyro scowled. “It is no different from you waiting for the right time to give me the kiss you owe me.”

  I’mya’s breath caught in her throat. She awkwardly got to her knees and turned to face him. His lips had fully healed, but Dayatha had said to keep treating him for another few days. “What has the kiss got to do with it?” she asked, slipping her arms around his neck.

  His toned arms encircled her. “It is a gift that you choose when to bestow. As is my purr.”

  The tingle in I’mya’s stomach turned into a full blown gust of arousal. “So I haven’t earned it yet?” she whispered.

  “Many times,” Nyro smiled. “But once I give you that, you may actually enjoy being mine.”

  I’mya couldn’t help the smile that spread on her face. Leaning forward, she pressed her lips to his and kissed him. Pulling her closer, Nyro deepened the kiss, locking their lips into a sweet exchange of tongue, taste, and tantalization. As she became intoxicated once again, I’mya knew she couldn’t give this up. Would it be so wrong to just enjoy this for however long it lasted?

  As the dragon tilted back to the lair, she had made her decision.

  Her heat began a few nights later.

  Increasingly intense waves of need crashed over her just as Nyro was returning from a flight.

  She tried to tell him what was happening, but she couldn’t speak. Powerful urges stripped her of all control and all she could do was curl up on the bed and grip the sheets, trying to resist the inevitable.

  Nyro approached the bed. “Your scent has changed, fireball.”

  His complex scent smothered her and an incredible shudder rocked her. She tensed, slick gushed from her. Nyro hummed with pleasure as he climbed on the bed, his hands running all over her.

  I’mya pulled at his clothes, needing to feel his skin. Once he helped remove them, he sunk between her legs to tongue her with relish.

  He was saturated with slick by the time he rose, and she guided him into her, desperate to be stretched apart. The more her heat strengthened, the more desperate she became, until she was mindless, seeking only the satisfaction of her alpha.

  Nyro dominated her. Pinning her down with hours of brutal pounding to abate the desperation, providing a merciless bite of pain among her euphoria that kept her eyes rolled back in her head.

  Then he found the perfect position. He pinned her down, his hand in the middle of her back while she lay on her font and lifted her ass, hips tilted, her whole body quivering and waiting. Nyro slammed into her, filling her to the hilt and then withdrawing completely, lifting his hips up to get the violent momentum to slam into her again. He fucked her like this—a halting hard shuddering rhythm—for hours until she was orgasming with every thrust. Finally, the intensity of so many orgasms exhausted her, and when he finally slammed in his knot, roaring at the power of his own climax. The final orgasm was too much. I’mya passed out, her body still convulsing, her channel still clenching and milking the dragorai; both satiated for the time being.

  I’mya lost complete track of time and space. She didn’t know where she was or who she was; the only thing that was important was the alpha giving her what she needed. For a man who did not enjoy heats, Nyro certainly took her with relish. He was the perfect alpha, constantly ready with a hard cock to slam into her when she needed it. If he waited even a moment too long she clawed the sheets, whining, demanding his attention, spreading her legs to present her need. She growled and whimpered and writhed and screamed, anything she needed to do to get his attention, to force him to settle her, but as soon as he took control, she melted into the submission and allowed him to do what he wished.

  In the slumber in between the intense periods of sex, memories shuddered into her mind. Some of them involved her parents, some I’yala, but all of her memories finally returned, including the ones of the curly black-haired man. They overpowered her sleep, propelling into her consciousness.

  I’yala squeezed I’mya’s hand as they approached the tower. It was the biggest and tallest building in the North. Rumors claimed that you could see every city in the North, but that couldn’t be true. Everyone liked to clump the North cities together as though they were all near each other, but in reality they were spread out far and wide across different countries within the Dominion.

  “I thought you always said we should stay away from the tower.” I’yala’s voice trembled.

  “Normally we would,” I’mya said. “This is a special situation. Don’t worry, I have a plan and I will keep us safe.”

  I’yala glanced up at her. “I know you will. It’s just that…”

  I’mya paused and knelt down, taking both of I’yala’s hands into her own and pressing the backs of them against her lips. “We may be able to find something useful here,” she explained. “An opportunity has come up that might help us stay safe. But, if you feel too afraid once we get inside, just squeeze my hand three times and we will leave, all right?”

  I’yala nodded, her eyes wide. She launched herself at I’mya, wrapping her arms tight around her neck in a desperate hug.

  “We’ll be all right,” I’mya said patting her back. “Are you ready?”

  I’yala pulled back and nodded.

  I’mya took her hand and began walking again.

  As they entered the wide doors, they found themselves in a hallway, and a group of men and women were descending the expansive stairs in the middle of the large entryway.

  I’mya had never seen such fine furnishing, even though the tower itself was not particularly in good condition.

  In the middle of the group, a dark-haired man with curly hair stared at her with a strange look in his eyes, and when they reached the bottom of the stairs, he stepped forward, smiling at both her and I’yala.

  I’mya sunk into a deep curtsy. “Your Majesty.”

  8

  I’mya was beautifully voracious in her heat.

  Nyro wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting; the woman had proven herself a fireball the moment they met, but this was something beyond anything he could have imagined.

  She wanted him at every moment of every day; she wanted to be filled constantly, for his tongue to be on her skin, his hands to be pinning her down, his eyes to be gazing at her. She was a needy little omega, furious if he didn’t give her the attention she craved and yet so meek, surrendering everything to him when he dominated her body. It was as though her normal personality had increased tenfold in either direction. The only difference was, I’mya would never normally plead to be fucked.

  He was just realizing that although he liked her submission, he had to force it from her each time; whereas during her heat, she presented for him—assumed a position to be deeply fucked—every waking moment.

  It was an utter thrill.

  One annoying thing about her heat was that whenever she was awake she was so focused on being filled that she had no interest in food or water. It was nearly a whole day before he realized she hadn’t drunk anything, and when he tried to get her to drink, she refused, snarling at him and opening her legs with that sexy fierceness.

  He had to force the water into her mouth, and as soon as it was on her tongue she stilled and drank eagerly. It was the same with food—he had to get something into her mouth before she would accept it.

  He chuckled at the realization that it wasn’t exactly unusual for I’mya. It wasn’t until his cock sat on her tongue that she took to it. But this w
as one of the reasons why omegas needed such tending. They were the shapeliest females, and some said they had the tightest kon, but they required a lot of care.

  I’mya deserved all the attention and care she wanted. Something was different about her that he couldn’t identify. The more he thought he was just experiencing her on a surface level, the more he found himself deeper entranced by her and the things she said and did.

  He’d been stunned to learn that she could understand his language, yet she’d not cast any incantation or used magic purposefully to translate the words. Hardly any being who currently lived understood Thrakondarian. The fact that she did was highly alarming. It was something he needed to bring to the attention of his brothers. He’d been aware of that for a while, but he wanted to make sure I’mya’s heat was over.

  He was also concerned about their reactions. This was not a woman who could be removed from his lair, regardless of whatever the reason was behind her connection to magic. In the past, a small number of lesser-mortals were able to hold magic in their bodies—that part was not unusual. But to be able to channel magic to understand language was a completely different thing, and significantly more advanced. It was surprising to him that he had not felt it happening. Of all the time he spent with I’mya, he did not feel the translation of his words through magic—and he should have. He still couldn’t feel it, and that worried him.

  It would take thought to figure out how he was going to introduce the topic to his brothers. He had been attending the clan meetings, as always, as a token gesture, but in the more recent ones he’d been asking questions. Questions about omegas and magic… and bonding. And they’d noticed.

  Khyros had even leaned forward and asked him why he was suddenly interested, and of course, he refused to divulge, which frustrated them all. But he had to be careful. There was just no way he was giving up I’mya. In fact, he wanted to find a way to keep her before he said anything to his brothers; however, it was too important a decision to make without talking to them. The fact that they were the last of their clan was a burden for them all to bear. If any of them were going to bond, particularly to a lesser-mortal, it was necessary for them to discuss and take into account every angle.

  But those were thoughts for another time. Nyro sunk into an intense blissful experience with I’mya, watching her closely and making sure she was hydrated, fed, and fucked. As the days went on, he noticed a pattern emerging. She would sleep for hours and then remain awake for hours on a rotating schedule, both longer than she would have when not in her heat.

  For the first time when they slept, it was I’mya clinging onto him, and when she woke, her tongue found its way all over his body, paying special attention to his nipples and the tip of his cock. In her heat, she enjoyed his seed on her; although, nothing pleasured her more than having him inside her. That seemed to echo I’mya’s general preference, though she liked to pretend she didn’t enjoy being marked.

  Her behavior during her heat roused Nyro’s own desire to a depth that made him lose all sense of time and made him realize just how perfect she was. He also realized she could conceive from this heat and their continual mating. And the excitement that thought sparked, shocked him to his core.

  He would permanently keep her.

  The moment the thought entered his mind, the decision was made. Regardless of what his brothers said, that was what would happen.

  About six days into I’mya’s heat, a number of deafening shrieks sounded across the range.

  It was Sanderyll and another dragon. That meant someone was here.

  Tension edged across his shoulders as he climbed out of the bed and headed to the window, but before he got there Tyomar sailed into the room.

  He landed with a stumble and turned back to look out the window. “What the hell is wrong with San?” he exclaimed. “He’s been fighting me for days whenever I’ve tried to come here.” He sniffed, wrinkling his nose. “What is that smell?”

  Every muscle in Nyro’s body sparked. “What are you doing here?” he thundered. The only thought on his mind was that his omega was in a vulnerable state, a state that no other alpha should see her in.

  Tyomar looked at him in disbelief. “Nyro, what is happening with you? You haven’t been hunting with any of us for a long time, and you missed a clan meeting yesterday. San has been acting crazy—he almost attacked me just now for coming to see you. I’ve come to check if you’re all right.”

  Nyro remained tense. “I am fine. I am tending to my omega.”

  “What?” Tyomar’s face dropped in shock. “You’re doing what?”

  “I cannot have another alpha in here right now, Tyomar,” Nyro ground out. “You have to leave.”

  “Did you say you’re… tending to an omega?” Tyomar stared at him. “You?”

  “I will explain everything once her heat breaks.”

  Tyomar blew out through his mouth, frowning at Nyro as if he couldn’t believe he’d just said that. “We can’t wait that long. The clan meeting was postponed three days, and I had to make sure you weren’t drowning in kon somewhere. You have to attend the next one, Nyro. These meetings are compulsory, they cannot be—”

  “I know my responsibilities!” Nyro thundered. “But I have responsibilities to this omega too.”

  Tyomar simply stared at him. “You haven’t had responsibilities to anyone or anything else for centuries,” he said slowly. “Who is this omega?” His eyes flicked behind Nyro to his bed where I’mya slept peacefully.

  “None of your fucking business,” Nyro roared, anger burning through him. “I will give you one more chance to leave before I force you out, Tyomar.”

  Tyomar lifted his head as he peered at Nyro. “You have never threatened me before.” Then his eyes flicked over Nyro’s defensive stance to look around the whole room. “You are in a rut!” he exclaimed.

  Nyro said nothing. He had heard of ruts before, an alpha’s intense need to mate, similar to an omega’s heat. The problem was that dragorais did not go into ruts, at least not anymore.

  “Who is this woman, Nyro!”

  Nyro stepped forward, every inch of his body urging him to eliminate the threat of his brother. “I will explain everything soon, but you need to go or I will rip you apart.”

  “This is a concern of the entire clan,” Tyomar warned. “If one of us has gone into a breeding state, the rest of us must be forewarned.”

  “You can forewarn all you fucking like,” Nyro bellowed. “Just leave!”

  Tyomar nodded, turning slowly toward the window. “Another meeting is in three days,” he said solemnly. “I can maybe stretch that to five now that I’ve seen you, but you must attend. You know we cannot make any decisions unless all of us are present, even if you are not contributing to the discussion.” He called out for his dragon and then launched into the air.

  Nyro finally relaxed, turning back to head to I’mya in his bed. He would have to deal with his brothers eventually, but at least Tyomar would forewarn them.

  The intensity of I’mya’s heat continued for the next two days, and then she began to sleep more. Nyro summoned the steward, Dayatha, who looked after the kon’ayas, to discuss I’mya transitioning out of her heat.

  “She will sleep more as the hormones reduce,” the steward confirmed. “But she will still need attention from you, especially if she has conceived.”

  A shot of both excitement and nervousness bubbled up Nyro’s spine. “How do we find that out?”

  “Her scent won’t return to normal,” the steward explained. “It won’t be as powerful as it is in her heat, obviously, but it will have a different fragrance to it.”

  “So I have to wait until her heat is completely over?”

  The steward nodded. “And if she is, then we can discuss options.”

  “What kind of options are you talking about,” Nyro growled. “That will be my child.”

  “Of course,” she said, quickly. “I know this child will be yours, but I’m not sure how it work
s if…”

  She didn’t finish a sentence, but Nyro knew what she was talking about. Conceiving at all would be a miracle, and nothing was a guarantee. Not until he spoke to his brothers.

  He dismissed the steward and climbed back into bed with I’mya. The first thing was to get her through the end of her heat.

  In the days leading up to the meeting, I’mya slept thoroughly and deeply. Nyro only just realized she had never truly slept soundly before. She was always a light dozer, ready to jump awake at the slightest moment. When he first had her staying with him, he never thought anything of it, but seeing the way she slept during her heat made him realize she had continued trauma from the war. Although he didn’t care about the war, he cared that she suffered so much. The lesser-mortals did not have the tolerance for violence that the dragorai had, which was why their ongoing war was so unusual, as Sethorn frequently pointed out.

  As the meeting approached, Nyro settled I’mya down into the bed and watched her drift into a deep sleep. She would be sleeping like this for hours, so he was not concerned she’d wake prior to him returning. He watched her for a long moment. His next goal was to see her with child, his child. But first, he had to deal with his brothers.

  Everyone was already seated when Nyro arrived.

  It had been all seven hells to get Sanderyll to fly to the meeting. Nyro wasn’t sure why he had to use a significant amount of magic to force the dragon to the meeting point. He’d never had to do that before—he usually enjoyed seeing his kin.

  Nyro nodded a greeting to all of his brothers, particularly Tyomar, who was watching him closely. Nyro wasn’t sure what came over him when Tyomar visited, but it was likely that he was right—Nyro had been in a deep rut and had been barely able to control himself. It needed explaining, but Nyro wasn’t sure he was the one who could do it.