by Zoey Ellis
I’mya nodded. “So, you must be very knowledgeable about their dragons too?”
Dayatha simply nodded as she hummed. “They are very special beings.”
“Are they… intelligent?”
Dayatha pursed her lips. “What do you mean?”
I’mya thought for a moment about what she was trying to ask. “Do dragons know what they are doing, do they have the capacity to think and make decisions or are they creatures who only follow instincts?”
Dayatha’s brows crumpled as she thought. “That’s difficult to know,” she said finally. “I think they are quite intelligent. But some instincts are too powerful for them to ignore or refuse.” She made her way to the side of the bed where she checked I’mya, brushing the back of her hand across I’mya’s forehead, cheeks, and chest.
“We won’t know if you are with child for at least another day,” she said.
I’mya stared at her in horror. She’d forgotten she would be taking that risk. How could she bring a child into this scenario knowing what she had come here to do? She couldn’t be pregnant!
“There is no need to worry,” Dayatha said. “Master Nyro is not opposed to you having his child.” She grinned, almost vibrating with excitement. “And if that’s the case, that means a child may live here. It would change everything about the lair, but change is good sometimes.”
Dayatha prattled on, talking with a heady excitement about the idea of Nyro’s child being on the way. She even speculated about the potential of the other kon’ayas’ children being able to stay. I’mya felt sick. She had allowed herself to get emotionally involved with the dragorai who liked her for how he physically used her. He said it himself; she was his property, to care for so he could make use of her. That might be fine if she truly had come to be his bed servant and live a safe life in his lair, but not if she had other duties that could positively affect people’s lives.
“I’m feeling tired, Dayatha,” I’mya sighed. “Can we talk about this another time? I think I need to sleep.”
Dayatha beamed. “Of course. Get a good rest.”
I’mya lay in the bed, still trembling from the effects of her heat as she pondered the decision before her.
The king had been so sure that killing a dragorai-dragon was the key to ending the war—and he made a reasonable argument. If the dragorai came from magic, and magic was at the heart of how the king and queen fought, then it stood to reason they could have a significant impact on the war if they died. The idea that the dragorai could stop the war but chose not to hadn’t escaped I’mya’s contemplations. Why wouldn’t they stop all the deaths if they could? But she already knew the answer. Again, Nyro had told her himself; he didn’t care about the war or the “lesser-mortals.” He wanted to live his life as he saw fit, without any responsibility for anything else going on in the Twin Realms. To have that kind of luxury was unbelievable to I’mya now. Even the king did not live untouched by the war.
She’d been about to do that, stay in this lair with Nyro, safe and well fed with activities to do, things to admire, people to talk to, and not care about what was going on beyond the lair. Everyone here had that intention. But it was different when someone had the power to do something, the power to end the suffering and murder and the pain everyone was going through.
Driven by grief that she would not address, she had trained with the king meticulously. That was how she was able to shield herself from the dragon’s fire on her first day here. That was how she knew those words. And, had she had memories at the time, she would have been able to kill it then and there.
But even as she thought that, a twinge of guilt fluttered in her chest. This was Nyro’s dragon, the dragon whose back she kissed him on, the dragon who purred for her.
She shook her head, turning over in the sheets. No. She had to stop thinking that way. It was an animal; it was not a person. It killed her sister without any provocation and almost killed her the day she arrived. If it were as intelligent as Dayatha said, it would have known what it was doing, and if it wasn’t, then it was attacking people, unprovoked. Nothing could excuse it from that.
On top of that, she couldn’t ignore that she owed it to her family to stop the war if she could. Surely, ending the war was more important than anything else?
I’mya lay in turmoil, dropping in and out of sleep as her thoughts rolled over and over.
It was nearing midday when Nyro finally arrived back through the window. He was agitated, and his dragon was screeching outside as he flew away. I’mya propped herself up on her elbows, looking at him. “Are you all right?”
“No,” Nyro ground out, stripping himself of his clothes. “My brothers are being… annoying.”
“Oh?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Nyro said as he stalked her in the bed. “They cannot stop me from doing what I want to do.”
“What do you want to do?”
Nyro’s lips crashed against hers and his tongue thrust into her mouth, and a guttural moan in the back of her throat escaped before she could stop it. He kissed her deeply, savoring her as she sucked on his tongue. He whipped the covers off her, tucked his hand under her hips and moved her over to the edge of the bed.
I’mya didn’t resist. She couldn’t. Everyone here may balk at the idea of a kon’aya being a sex slave, but she was a slave to Nyro’s attentions. The time with him, the feelings that he evoked from her, and the way he looked at her, touched her... She had never been able to resist it, and probably wouldn’t have even if she’d retained all her memories. Nyro would have been a complication—always.
He lowered his head to suck her nipple, his fingers tickling her folds, teasing her as she writhed and wriggled for more pressure. I’mya succumbed to the pleasure, pushing aside all thoughts and responsibilities so she could have him just one more time before she decided their fate.
By the time he entered her, every nerve in her body was vibrating with pleasure. It had to be the lingering sensation of her heat because the feel of him inside her was even sweeter than when she was in her heat.
He kept kissing her, his mouth dominating hers as he drove in and out of her, and she succumbed to his domination, humping her hips up to meet his, consoling herself with his heady scent and taste. Would there ever be another man who’d be so perfect, taste so good? Probably not.
He became rougher, pining her arms over her head, slamming his heavy body into hers, forcing her body to jolt violently against his. I’mya closed her eyes and arched her back, sinking into the experience and wringing every possible ounce of pleasure she could. She spread her legs wide, letting him take her as roughly as he wanted to, and she reveled in it, reveled in his need for her.
As her orgasm approached, he tucked his head into her neck, pressing his lips against her, making her shudder once again while climbing the crescendo. Her climax came in an explosion of raw ecstasy, and she almost didn’t feel the sting of pain in her neck.
As she came down from her orgasm, Nyro knotted her hard and rough and she keened on his cock, digging her nails into his toned ass to pull him in deeper. He returned his mouth to hers, brushing his lips over hers, and she panted into his mouth as the deep euphoria stretched over her like it usually did. But when her tongue darted out to lick his lips, she drew the metallic taste of blood into her mouth.
Opening her eyes, she peered at him and was shocked to see blood over his lips and inside his mouth. “What happened?”
She lifted her head and a stinging pain shunted through one side of it.
No.
I’mya tentatively touched her neck and located the source of pain. A ragged, deep bite was at the base of her neck, blood poured down her neck and onto the bed sheets.
“What did you do?” she said, her voice hushed in shock. “Why did you bite me!”
“We will be bonded,” Nyro said simply.
“What?”
Nyro didn’t respond, he simply hunched over her, his knot still spreading her wide as he covered
her with his body like he usually did.
“Don’t you think you should have asked me?” I’mya snapped. “How can you just bond with me like that?”
“Why should I need to ask you,” Nyro said. “You belong to me to do with as I wish.”
Yes that was it. She was his property, according to him. I’mya scowled into his shoulder. He had always treated her like she belonged to him, like she was something to be used and taken regardless of her opinion. In all truthfulness, looking back on their time together with a different perspective, it wasn’t as though she hadn’t enjoyed the domination. Most omegas would, but when it came to bonding or her heat or children, there was no reason for her not to have an opinion or a say in her life. When had she ever had a say? What exactly had she been expecting by being with him?
Her anger grew the longer she lay underneath him. The things she was considering giving up, things that would literally benefit everyone on this side of the Twin Realms, and he did not have basic respect for her. Just because he enjoyed her kon, as he called it, and wanted to horde her like treasure, did not mean he saw her as a person.
I’mya lay awake all night revisiting the plan she’d formulated with the king, the incantations she’d learned. It was remarkable how she had done most of the things she planned on her first day here. Instinctively, she’d known what to do.
The next day when the dragon arrived, its wings beating in the air, apprehension filled I’mya. She now understood the irrational fear she had against the dragorai, or at least, dragons. No wonder why she had that reaction when Nyro attacked the massage servant. He’d killed him the same way his dragon had killed I’yala.
After Nyro left later that day, she washed, making sure to clean her bite wound, which he had sunk his teeth into again that morning to “keep it fresh.” She told him she couldn’t feel any bond between them, but he said the bond wasn’t complete. She didn’t know what he meant—he wouldn’t explain—but if it wasn’t complete, then she didn’t have to worry about any issues with being bonded to him.
She put on the tunic he’d had made for her and prepared herself. She stood by the window and used all the words she needed until she heard the familiar beating of wings. Her heart jumped into her throat, but she pushed past it, remembering why she was doing this and who she was doing it for.
The dragon came into view, Nyro on his back, and she began the incantation.
si pexo bo’am si ’imro
si dashuse, si ket ashi ma kmeyi
de kve ’et hutitz
sheg kle si av…
Magic gathered, flowing thickly through the air, sparks and crackles forming around the dragon as he approached the window. Nyro stood on his back, frowning at the magic surrounding them. He caught sight of I’mya, but she ignored him.
I’mya continued chanting, bringing a close to the end of the sequence as the magic attacked the creature.
He shrieked, releasing a thunderous roar as the shards of magic burrowed into his body, scoring him and flaring up in his skin. He began to lose his ability to stay airborne, and Nyro clung onto him, staring at I’mya with disbelief. I’mya watched them fall out of the air, a sob escaping her as an enormous crash sounded from below.
Beginning a new chant, I’mya stepped to the edge of the window and her magic broke through the barrier that shielded it. The magic swept her up and carried her over the range. She closed her eyes and focused on the chant, emptying her mind of nothing else. If she stopped, or if she said one wrong syllable in the wrong tone, intonation or rhythm, she would fall. The king had made that very clear. But deep down, although she concentrated on saying the correct thing, she didn’t care if she lived or died. She just wanted to make sure the war ended. She had been tainted by Nyro, distracted by how innately pleasing he was to her. And she didn’t know if she would ever be able to escape the memory of him. That was probably how the other kon’ayas felt about him too. And although he may have shown her special treatment, ultimately she was no different from any of them in the grand scheme of things.
She soared over the mountain range, heading back to the North cities, dipping low to be sheltered by the trees whenever they were underneath her, but taking the simplest route off dragorai property as quickly as possible. She didn’t have to cross anyone else’s range, but Nyro’s was massive.
She still kept her eyes closed, refusing to take in the beauty she had experienced when on back of the dragon she just killed. There was no doubt Nyro survived that fall, although he could have used magic more easily to survive.
It seemed as though she was traveling for hours. She kept her mind focused, keeping the chant alive until she reached her destination.
Finally, she arrived. The tower stood high and broad in the middle of one of the main countries and as she lowered down towards it, she noted how much everything looked the same as before she left. War-torn, crumbling, part-destroyed, clouds of ember suffocated the city… it was even worse than she remembered.
She lowered down to the entrance of the king’s tower and dropped to the ground, panting at the effort that it took to maintain the incantation all the way from Nyro’s range. Her body felt drained of energy from the use of magic. The king’s guard surrounded her, but as soon as she caught her breath and looked up, the king was pushing through them, still handsome, though his curly, black hair was a little longer now.
I’mya breathed heavily, knowing that her gaze said too much, but unable to school her expression.
The king simply smiled.
11
Excruciating pain ricocheted through Nyro’s body.
“I’mya!” Her name echoed through the valley, bouncing then fading off the tall mountain, but there was no answer.
He couldn’t quite see where he was, but something heavy was on top of him, pinning him down to the ground so he couldn’t move. A number of his bones had to be broken, and he was surely bleeding internally, but the first thing he had to do was make sure that his dragon survived the fall. He had never felt such pain and anguish coming from Sanderyll before, and he had gone through all the attacks on dragons that the dragorai had to face in the near extinction of their kind. He wasn’t sure what I’mya did, but the magic she used had been highly sophisticated, not something she would have known unless she’d spent decades training.
He tried to shift whatever pinned him down, but it was too heavy. He didn’t want to use magic just in case he unwittingly damaged himself or his dragon further, but he had to get up, otherwise he’d be there forever. Firming his mind, he cast an enchantment to slightly lift what was on top of him and he rolled out before gently releasing it. Every muscle ached. He couldn’t move without a symphony of pain resounding through his whole body.
He took a moment to catch his breath and then pushed himself up, forcing his body to do as he instructed. He was unable to put weight completely on one of his legs, and there was no doubt his arm and possibly a few ribs were broken, but he was not prepared for what he saw when he looked up.
Sanderyll was lying in the valley, sprawled out in an unnatural position with magic eating away at his body. His scales were charred with bolts of magic that had burrowed into him and burned bright, like fire under his skin, but on the edge of his wings the magic was eating away, turning him to ash.
The strangled sound came from San’s throat, as if he was unable to move, unable to figure out what was going on. Confusion, fear, and anguish dominated his emotions, layering over Nyro’s emotions as he lay there dying.
Nyro stepped toward him. Usually they could heal each other, each strengthening the other with whatever element or damage that may have been caused by hunting or other factors, but this time it was impossible with both of them so badly damaged. There was only one thing he could do.
Focusing his mind, he began to chant, calling on magic to help heal him, but it was impossible to do so without knowing what kind of magic caused this. There were very few enchantments that could damage a dragon this badly, highly sophistica
ted ones, and he wasn’t knowledgeable enough about them.
Magic responded immediately, curling into a circle and traveling outward. Nyro collapsed against his dragon, breathing shallowly to avoid the pain in his side. He couldn’t stop his mind from turning to I’mya.
The fury that burned in him was unparalleled to anything he ever experienced before. If he had the strength to breathe fire, he would have lit up the air by now. He had claimed her as his own already, bitten her and made clear his plans for her, and now it was as though she had been lying all this time, keeping the secret that she could, in fact, wield magic. Even if she wasn’t the one behind the sophisticated incantation, she had to have learned it somewhere. And there were very limited places she could have.
Time stretched on and his vision began to darken. Just as he thought he might slip into unconsciousness, the beating of wings woke him. One pair of wings, two, three… his brothers were there on their dragons circling him and calling out to him. He had no energy to call back, but he knew they would be able to figure out he was injured. The one thing he knew was that he was not leaving Sanderyll. If they could not find a way to cure and heal his dragon, then he would not survive for long anyway. But he sure as hell would find I’mya first.
As darkness descended on him, he felt the fire of his brothers’ dragons, and the sting of magic targeted at Sanderyll. And relief claimed him as the darkness did.
“… cannot continue without knowing what this threat is! It is a risk to all of us and our dragons. This is an attack on the dragorai.”
“We should hear what he says first.” That was Tyomar. “He might have an idea who it was and why it happened.”
“I don’t care why it happened!” Sethorn growled. “In all these centuries, Nyro has never used the emergency call, and he travels these ranges more than the rest of us. The fact that this happened is the important point, not why.”
