A Lair So Sinful

Copyright © 2021 by Zoey Ellis. All rights reserved

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are
products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance
to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

The right of Zoey Ellis to be identified as the author of this book has been
asserted by the author in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patent’s
Act, 1988. All rights reserved. Except for use in review, the reproduction or
utilization of this work in whole or in part, by any means, is forbidden without
written permission from the author.

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by any way of trade
or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the
author’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which
it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the
subsequent purchaser.

First Edition: March 2021

 CONTENTS

Pronunciation Guide

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Epilogue

Acknowledgments
Also by Zoey Ellis
About Zoey Ellis
For Mandy and my Halos
 A LAIR SO SINFUL

From a dark, magic-ravaged world comes an enthralling new

fantasy romance series. Five brothers, last of an ancient Alpha
bloodline, each bound by fire and blood to their majestic dragons.

Captive in a dragon lord’s lair. No memory. Stripped bare.

I’mya awakens to find herself the property of Nyro—a rare and

powerful Alpha bonded to a monstrous dragon. Like the other women
in the lair, her only purpose is to satiate his every fantasy, but the
beautiful omega is hiding a dark secret—even from herself.

From the first explosive encounter with Nyro, her incredible power is
unleashed.

His carnal desires feed the fire of her magic.

Nyro’s captivation with her turns to possession, and I’mya becomes

more than a plaything for him.

But as shards of her memories puzzle back together, her mind finally
unveils the compelling truth.

A purpose much more sinister than pleasure.

Passion. Obsession. Betrayal.

I’mya must fulfill her quest, regardless of the cost. Nyro has conquered
her body, but if he discovers the truth behind her presence in his lair… it
is her life he will take.

A LAIR SO SINFUL is the first book in an adult fantasy romance

standalone series. This story includes romance of a dark nature and a
HEA.
 PRONUNCIATION GUIDE

I’mya - im-my-ah
Nyro - NY-roe
Dragorai - drag-GOR-rye
Vattoro - vat-TOR-roe
Kon’aya - kon-nye-ah
Elora - ee-LORE-rah
Sanderyll - san-der-rill
Dayatha - day-AH-tha
Zendyor - ZEN-dee-yor
Tyomar - tye-OH-mar
Sethorn - seth-orne
Khyros - KY-ros
Thrakondarian - thrak-kon-DAR-ree-ann
I’yala - e-YAR-lah
Dan Askha - dan-AX-ah
Mheyu - may-you
 1

A pronunciation guide for this world can be located from the Contents
page.

T he fog clogging her senses dissipated.

I’mya gasped, dropping to a crouch and curling herself into a tight
ball as a rush of prickly heat traveled so fast along her limbs, gooseflesh
rose in its wake. Arms wrapped around her knees, she stilled her mind,
reciting the names of the Seven Goddesses until the feeling passed. It
wasn’t unusual for disorientation to take hold when she woke, but it
had never been this bad. Squeezing her eyes shut, she fought to control
her dizziness, until she quickly realized something was wrong.
Slowly, I’mya lifted her head.
Huge rocky walls rose high on either side of her, curving over her
head to make a cavernous room? No… a wide corridor. Orbs of glowing
light hovered in the dips of the craggy walls, providing mellow shards of
light that beamed across the gloomy darkness. Magic hung thick in the
air, but it wasn’t the rotten kind that she was used to—this was rich,
fresh, untainted magic.
 I’mya rose to her feet, trying to make sense of what she could see.
Nothing looked familiar.
A soft patter drew her attention to see messy brown ringlets and a
jostling bare ass moving down the corridor in front of her. I’mya
glanced down at herself and snapped her arms around her own naked
body, swallowing the startled squeal that rose in her throat. What
happened to her clothes! Panicked, she turned to see another three
naked women standing in a line behind her, all different ages and
features.
The rocky corridor stretched into the distance behind them, with
seemingly no end in sight.
“Do you know where we are?” I’mya whispered, stepping closer to
the girl next to her. But as she neared, she realized the girl wasn’t
looking back at her. Her dull, grey eyes remained straight ahead, lacking
any spark of life or comprehension. The muscles in her face were so
slack, drool inched down from the corner of her mouth. Glancing
behind her, I’mya saw the other two women both held the same
expression.
“Are you… all right?” she asked the first girl. Hesitantly, I’mya lifted
her hand to touch the girl’s shoulder.
“Keep moving.”
I’mya started, her head jerking up to the ceiling of the corridor
where the voice seemed to originate from, but there was no person,
only a dark, rocky wall.
“Keep moving,” the rough voice ordered again.
“Where are we?” Dropping her hand and refusing to budge, I’mya
scanned the ceiling of the corridor. “Why am I here?”
“Move. Now.” As the words echoed through the corridor, thick magic
stirred in the air.
 I’mya took heed of the warning. Swallowing hard, she faced front,
keeping her arms wrapped around her torso as tightly as she could and
padded in line with the other lifeless women.
Her mind raced as fear settled in her stomach. It wasn’t that
someone was watching them that worried her, or even that she was
naked and in an unfamiliar place—it was the presence and movement
of magic in the air. Magic was dangerous. For it to stir meant someone
had a proficiency in the art, which was lethal to all in the vicinity,
especially considering the magic was so dense.
I’mya breathed shallowly as she walked, trying to order her
thoughts. Where had she been before arriving here, and what had she
been doing? She couldn’t remember anything. The other women clearly
looked as though they’d been drugged or intoxicated. Had she been as
well? What were they all doing here? Had they’d been forced here?
Each question prompted a new one.
I’mya glanced around the corridor again. The dark walls were made
of some type of rock and stone that sparkled and glinted ever so
slightly. They had to be in the east section of the mountain, and it was
probably mid-morning…
I’mya’s steps faltered. How did she know that? Taking a breath, she
glanced up again at the wall. There was nothing about it she recognized.
She and the other women seemed to be in some sort of unusually warm
series of connected caves—it could be within a mountain, but
something told her they were more likely underground.
The woman in front of her was now walking through an archway at
the end of the corridor. I’mya kept a steady pace, moving toward it
while she stayed alert, taking in as much as she could about her
surroundings while cataloging every sensation and everything she
could see. Any information could help her escape.
 The most worrying thing, however, was the dense magic in the air,
though she wasn’t sure exactly why it bothered her so much. Murky
memories swirled just out of reach, but she pushed her frustration
away and kept her eyes open as she reached the archway.
At the end of the long corridor, she passed through the arches and
found herself in a small enclosed cavern. A couple of floor lamps
flickered balls of amber flames that gleamed across the jagged walls
and ceiling. The naked girl who’d been ahead of her now stood in the
center facing a hooded woman in a grey cloak who was standing by one
of the walls.
I’mya eyed the cloaked woman as she came to a stop. Hands clasped
in front of her, she stood slightly taller than I’mya; however, she knew
the woman’s height had nothing to do with how dangerous she could
be, so she discreetly ran her eyes over the room, searching for exits. But
she couldn’t see any.
Within moments, the women behind her padded into the opening;
I’mya watched them closely as they gathered in front of the figure. Then
all four of them suddenly woke from their stupor, blinking and looking
around.
“Welcome and congratulations.”
I’mya turned to see that the woman had lowered her grey hood, and
she looked nothing like I’mya expected. She was quite beautiful. Rich
auburn hair framed her stern face, and her dewy skin and sharp
features made it difficult to guess her age, but it was her sharp amber
eyes flickering over them that were the most noticeable.
“You have arrived at your new home,” she said warmly, a hint of a
smile on her face. “Your presence is greatly celebrated by us all.” She
looked over each of them as she spoke. “I am Dayatha, your overseer. In
order to have a safe and peaceful life here, it is important you
understand and follow what I am about to say. It will be impossible for
you to remember everything, especially with the magic still wearing off,
but the more you do remember the easier it will be for you.”
So they hadn’t been drugged, but rather affected by magic. I’mya
glanced at the other girls. Now out of their dazed state, they stared
intently at the cloaked woman. None of them appeared confused or
concerned about where they were.
“There are some areas that will obviously be closed off to you, but
the mountain is big enough to provide plenty of space for us all,”
Dayatha said. “You will find this to be a warm, friendly, and safe
environment—we will provide you everything you need.”
I’mya frowned. Mountain?
“You will share numerous communal spaces,” the woman continued,
“and we expect you to get along with each other. If you cannot do that,
or if you cause trouble among each other, we will be forced to let you
go.” There was something strange about the way she said that. “There is
plenty for you to busy yourself with, and you’re expected to keep your
body in excellent condition for our master.”
I’mya’s jaw slackened. Master?
“But you are not permitted to speak to him at any time.” She paused
to look each of the women in the eye. “At any time. When the bell
chimes, you are expected to be available to him immediately if he so
chooses. And under no circumstances should you attempt to engage his
dan askha.”
I’mya pursed her lips. Dax… what?
“How many of you are omegas?”
I’mya was so distracted by what Dayatha had been saying, she
almost didn’t hear the question. The shapely blonde girl who had been
immediately behind her in the corridor raised her palm, as did a dark-
skinned girl with pretty bright eyes.
“Your special needs will be provided for.”
 Then addressing them all, she said, “Older kon’ayas are available to
help instruct you in various skills you might find useful—it has become
a tradition to share the things we learn. This is a family like no other
and one you should embrace so that you may find harmony and peace.
If you do so, it will be easier to embrace us as your new family, as you
will never see your own family and friends again.”
I’mya drew in a sharp breath. Did that mean they were stuck here?
She tried to remember who she was leaving behind, but no memory
surfaced. What was her life before waking up naked in the corridor?
The girls around her weren’t alarmed; a couple of them even had smiles
on their faces.
“Anyone who is cloaked in grey, like I am, must be heeded and
abided at all times,” Dayatha continued. “We are the stewards of this
lair, and we are responsible for maintaining harmony. Your best option
is to get to know the other kon’ayas. They were once where you are and
will help you adjust.”
Lair? Where in all seven hells was she? I’mya raised her hand,
nerves shooting through her as the woman’s amber eyes snapped to
her, brows raised and lips puckering.
“How do we leave?” she asked, forcing herself to get the words out.
Her voice echoed across the room, sounding unfamiliar to her own ears.
The woman’s brows furrowed, her expression somewhat quizzical.
“You do not leave,” she said simply. “No one leaves.” Her amber stare
was piercing. “Unless they are falling from the top of the mountain to
their deaths.”
I’mya’s brow knitted as she stared at Dayatha, trying to determine if
she was serious. Dayatha matched her gaze, no hint of jest in her
expression. I’mya lowered her hand, her heart pounding so loud she
was sure it was echoing around the small space.
 “You will be taken to your sleeping lounge to select your beds and
familiarize yourself with your new home and your new family.” Dayatha
gestured toward an opening along the back wall of the small space. A
glint of light shone through, surprising I’mya. She’d obviously missed
seeing it upon first inspection of the room. “If you are able to abide the
rules and provide your own brand of value, you will love it here.”
An excited murmur rose from the other girls. I’mya continued to
study the other women as they headed out of the room. They looked
positively excited and not at all shy about their nakedness.
As they exited, I’mya darted to the front. “Pardon me,” she said to
Dayatha as quietly and politely as she could, “I don’t think—”
The woman held up her palm, and they watched the other girls until
they were out of sight and earshot.
“You came aware quicker than the others,” she said, dropping her
hand, her voice sharper. “Why is that?”
I’mya froze, surprised by the woman’s sudden firmness. “I-I-I don’t
know what you mean.”
“You became aware in the corridor, yes?” Her thick auburn brow
arched. “You were the one to hold up the line?”
“I didn’t mean to,” I’mya said, hesitantly. “I don’t know where I am.”
“It is not your responsibility to know where you are,” Dayatha said,
clasping her hands in front of her. “It is mine. All you need to do is be
where you are supposed to be and do as you’re told.”
I’mya frowned slightly. “But where am I? Why are we all walking
around naked?”
The woman stepped toward her, sighing softly. “What would be the
point of you being here if you were constantly clothed? It is much too
warm for clothes, anyway—they will only get in the way.”
“In the way of what?”
 Dayatha’s gaze cooled. “Being difficult will not help you to stand out
here. In fact, standing out is dangerous. Don’t waste my time with
questions you already know the answers to.”
A surge of agitation prickled over I’mya’s skin. Why was this woman
being so difficult? “I just want to know where I am,” she snapped. “Why
can’t you just tell me that simple piece of information. If I’ve been
kidnapped, at least tell me what you want from me.”
The woman’s eyes narrowed and realization dawned in her eyes.
“What is your name?”
I’mya opened her mouth, then shut it. What was her name?
“Where were you before you were here?” the woman asked.
“I don’t remember,” I’mya said slowly. “I don’t know how I got here.”
“What do you remember about your life?”
I’mya shook her head. “Nothing.”
“Nothing?” The woman seemed suspicious. “Where were you
raised?”
I’mya lifted her shoulders. “I-I don’t know.”
“Close your eyes,” Dayatha said. “Visualize in your mind’s eye
anything from before your memories of this place.”
I’mya did what she was asked, taking a deep breath to quiet her
thoughts. Muddled sparks of emotions flashed within her, accompanied
by blurred images in her mind, but she couldn’t grab ahold of them.
She shook her head. “It is though they exist, but I can’t hold one
image still to see it clearly,” she said, opening her eyes.
“Then think of a single person,” Dayatha said. “Any face that comes
to you, then you may recall more things about yourself. Think back to
your family, friends, loved ones…..”
I’mya squeezed her eyes shut as she tried to conjure up anything
associated with those words, but again, memories faded, smooth and
slippery. “Nothing,” she said, opening her eyes.
 Dayatha was silent for a long moment, then she stepped forward
and held up a cupped hand underneath I’mya’s jaw. Before I’mya could
even step back or say anything, the woman was muttering a string of
words; the magic that hung in the air began to shift and stir.
“Stop,” I’mya said, fear blooming in her chest. “Stop doing that!”
But the steward did not cease.
Tiny bursts of intense heat flared along I’mya’s jaw, burrowing deep
into her skin, then shooting up her face in jagged, sharp bursts. I’mya
took a breath to scream, but before she could, magic had taken hold of
the entire lower half of her face.
The scream came out as a harsh hum, vibrating along her lips.
Dayatha’s muttering stopped and she released I’mya’s jaw, staring at
her for a long moment, tilting her head. “I’m just going to examine you
to ensure you are in good health. I do not want you worrying the other
girls. Whatever problem you are having, this incantation will help
identify it.”
I’mya stumbled back, clawing at her jaw as the magic burrowed
deep until it reached the bone.
“Calm down,” Dayatha said, stepping forward and holding up a hand.
“It will be more aggressive if you fight it.”
I’mya barely heard her. This kind of magic was so sophisticated that
it could burn her from the inside out and allow someone control over
her body once it was inside her. This was an attack! All she’d done was
ask a simple question.
She fought to open her mouth, but her jaw remained locked
together, her screams remained stuck in her throat.
“You need to calm down,” Dayatha repeated, annoyance bleeding
into her expression. “Just relax.”
I’mya backed away from her and ran toward the opening. She
needed to find someone who would help her. Maybe one of the girls
knew magic or could understand what had happened to her. But when
she followed where they had exited, she found herself in another
corridor, smaller this time… and it was empty. She turned right and
followed the path, her breathing heavy as her panic increased.
She began to run when she heard Dayatha calling behind her. Maybe
if she escaped the mountain, the magic would wear off. In the back of
her mind, she knew that wasn’t possible, but panic had fully descended
on her about the situation she’d awoken to, and if she escaped, that
would solve one problem.
She kept running, following the corridor as it widened, the air
becoming thicker and warmer.
As she ran, her heated skin prickled against the magic-dense air, as
though it was making a halfhearted attempt to stop her, but within it,
there was also a distinctive, warm, and earthy scent. Strangely, it was
comforting. I’mya began to calm and slowed to a quick walk. She had to
think clearly if she was going to get out of this place—running wildly
around this “lair” was not going to help.
I’mya turned a corner to see a large, round sapphire stone
embedded into the wall of the corridor. The sight of it sparked
recognition. She knew where she was! Relief bounded through her. If
she recognized this place, surely she could find a way to remember how
to get out. Heading down the corridor, she turned left, then right, then
right again, but stopped abruptly when she arrived at another cavern.
This one had a large opening on one wall. She stepped to the edge of the
expanse and stared in wonder.
Spread before her was a vast cluster of mountains, as far as she
could see, and she immediately knew where she was.
The Forbidden Mountains.
Dread clutched her chest. She could be killed for being here.
 Before she had a chance to gather her thoughts, the cavern shook,
and she stumbled forward. Screaming into her throat, she grabbed the
side of the opening, digging her fingers in to save herself from certain
death.
As she balanced herself on the inside of the opening, something
dark shot out from above and flew over the range.
I’mya gasped, clinging harder to the edge of the gap in the mountain,
shocked at what she was seeing.
An enormous creature soared, its wings spread wide as it angled to
the left. Pure black with a slight golden sheen brushing along its scales,
the bright blue sky outlined its form—a thick body with four legs and
spikes protruding down its neck, and a long, spiked tail that whipped
from side to side behind it.
A dragon.
Of course. This creature was what made the Forbidden Mountains
forbidden. This was where they roamed.
I’mya didn’t realize she wasn’t breathing until the dragon rounded
in the air and headed straight back toward the mountain. Transfixed,
she couldn’t move. Gripping the side of the opening so hard, she didn’t
feel her fingernails snap; all she could focus on was the creature’s
mouth, jagged and wide as it opened.
This creature shouldn’t exist; dragons were known to be ferocious
beings, wild and destructive. They were leftover relics from a time
before anything worth protecting existed. But that thinking made no
difference to their existence, or the one heading toward her right now.
When the dragon dipped lower, heading directly for her opening
rather than returning to where ever it had come from above, fear
stiffened I’mya’s body, making her grip even firmer.
Could the creature see her? Was he aiming for her purposefully?
 The dragon roared and a puff of fire curled out from its mouth,
shooting directly toward the opening. Doubt gone, she knew it was
coming toward her.
I’mya let go and backed into the cavern space behind her, but the
dragon arrived too quickly for her to run.
He landed, his claws digging into the edge and rocking the entire
section with a thunderous jolt that caused I’mya to stagger and drop to
her knees.
She tried to stand, to get away, but the enormous creature
scrambled to cling on to the edge of the mountainside as it roared at
I’mya. The sound deafened her, vibrating through her body as it shook
every fiber of her being and the ground she fell upon once again.
When she looked up, the horrifying creature was pulling itself into
the cavern, its large, yellow eyes rolling in its sockets as it sought her
out. I’mya screamed as its mouth opened, and another flare of fire
erupted directly at her.
Her scream tore out of her throat as the heat engulfed her. She
didn’t know when her hands shot out or when instinct took over.
Calling upon the magic in the air to come to her aid, there was no
thought or consideration to the words she uttered—they dropped into
her mind out of nowhere. Her only concern was to sound them out as
clearly as possible with her mouth closed. The magic responded, silky
and fluid as it created a protective shield around her.
The intense heat immediately ceased as the fire parted around the
shield, but all of I’mya’s energy drained from her body in one fell swoop.
She crumpled to the ground as darkness pressed in, threatening to
draw her into a dizzying whirlwind of despair.
Suddenly, the fire stopped; everything was quiet.
I’mya inched her head up to see if the dragon had gone, but instead
a figure loomed over her, blocking her view.
 It spoke, and a deep, rich voice vibrated through the entire area,
penetrating her body and sending a rush along her limbs, but its words
were not clear.
I’mya lifted her head, blinking at it.
A man loomed over her. He had wide, muscled shoulders, toned
arms and a broad chest with a torso that tapered down to a slimmer
waist; his legs just as thick as his arms. In truth, he was a perfectly
formed man—except he was enormous.
Dark, tousled hair fell to the top of his ears, and a low-cut dark
beard spread over the lower half of his chiseled face. Long lashes
framed the dark fury in his eyes, directed at her as he stepped forward.
I’mya panicked, but she couldn’t move. She was too weak to do
anything. Thankfully, the dragon was no longer attacking, but she heard
the whip of its wings beating beyond the opening of the cavern. She
wasn’t exactly out of harm’s way, especially when she didn’t know this
man’s intentions. This mountain lair, or whatever the grey-cloaked
woman called it, was a dangerous place to be.
She had to get out.
The giant man lunged forward, and I’mya squeaked as his hand
closed around her neck. He yanked her upward until she was on her
feet, then he leaned in, his dark eyes peering at her face, and her naked
body. “’et khadon yo ma si kon’aya.” The words boomed out of him and
vibrated against her chest, even though I’mya was certain he wasn’t
shouting. She tried to shake her head, eager to explain she was here by
mistake, but it was impossible to swallow let alone speak.
“ko’lat ’et numakh tmo’ shaf bok ma si tumezni?”
Surely he wasn’t expecting her to respond? Not with his fist so
tightly wrapped around her neck? I’mya exhaled in annoyance, her
nostrils flaring.
 The man’s head tilted, brows inching down to a frown as he studied
her again. I’mya hoped she didn’t look like a trespasser, or even worse, a
criminal. This might be the only time that being naked could work in
her favor, though it wasn’t as though she looked good. This place was
too hot. Sweat slicked her skin and her hair had to be a ragged mess.
Hopefully she looked so out of place that this giant would discard her so
she could get as far away from the Forbidden Mountain as possible.
“Kev,” he murmured, dragging his eyes down at her body again,
lingering in places they shouldn’t. His eyes darkened. “si zmusho da
dvan. ’Et lat tan itzutz de da tzo kon’aya.”
I’mya had no idea what he was saying, but the bass of his tone and
the look in his eyes ignited a tingle in the pit of her stomach and the
most delicate shiver skipped up her spine. The man’s scent was equally
provocative. Rich, decadent tones of charred darkness emanated from
him, as though he had bathed in the flame and smoke of a thousand
midnights. It was potent and intoxicating and affected her just as
powerfully as his voice. Within moments, her nipples hardened, and the
tingle in her stomach developed into an ache between her legs.
An even darker look entered the man’s gaze as his nostrils flared.
I’mya jerked as a finger trailed up her stomach to the underside of
her breast. She struggled against the man’s hold, but it made no
difference—it were as if she wasn’t moving at all. His finger traced over
her breast until it reached her stiff peak and then he pinched it. Hard.
I’mya twitched as the sharp pain and pleasure snapped through her
body. She glared at him, her anger rising at the smirk on his face, but
she was distracted by the now slow and circular movements of his
fingers on her nipple.
Pleasure zinged through her. He tilted his head up and his eyes
snapped to her mouth. “’et kla tzo koshpek taf’ak ren kvitra’ak tmo’ gi
tmokhi. as kvek da itmoratz.” As his words resounded in the closed
cavernous space, the syllables twisted and morphed into words I’mya
could understand. “You have an incomplete incantation trapped in your
jaw. That must be painful.”
I’mya blinked in surprise. An incantation was trapped in her face? It
must have been the magic Dayatha used on her.
The man’s eyes flicked up to hers. “si kme yik a.” The echo resounded
back the words. “I can remove it.”
I’mya stilled, her eyes wide as she tried to nod. If he could remove
the magic, then she’d be able to explain the misunderstanding, but it
was becoming difficult to concentrate on so many things at the same
time. Her body felt disjointed, as though it no longer belonged to her.
The sensation overload was unbearable—lethargy from the use of
magic, intoxicating aroma from the giant man’s scent, and the pressure
around her neck keeping her upright and steady; pain laced with
pleasure.. She exhaled deeply, seeking comfort from his scent to
alleviate the pain before she realized what she was doing.
The pressure around her neck immediately eased, and she drew in a
sharp breath through her nose as she gripped his thick forearm to help
steady her weak and unsteady legs.
He spoke again. “But I’m not sure if I want to” were the words that
echoed back to her.
I’mya looked up at him, confused. His face was close, still examining
her with a strange look in his eyes. Why wouldn’t he remove it if he
could?
His mouth spread into a slight smile as he tapped her jaw, sending
shock waves of pain through her whole face.
I’mya yelped in surprised and then growled in anger, the roughness
of the sound tearing into her throat.
The man tapped her face again, harder this time, and the pain
ricocheted to the extremities of her head, rippling out to her earlobes,
then down her neck.
“Stop!” I’mya gasped, and then froze, realizing the magic had moved
from her mouth and he was controlling it through her body. It
simmered around her nose, making her eyes water. She blinked rapidly
as her eyes stung and her eyesight blurred. Was he going to make her
blind?
On the third hard tap, the magic shunted up her head toward her
brain, and I’mya truly began to panic. If magic could lock her jaw shut
and blind her, what would it do to her mind?
The man’s chuckle was hearty and deep, and it infuriated her. He
was simply amusing himself. He didn’t care that she was in pain or that
he could permanently blind her!
Gritting her teeth, I’mya forced strength into her arm and swung,
punching him in his perfectly, chiseled face. It was supposed to be a
slap, but something else—some sense of familiarity with the movement
—took over.
It was a pathetic attack—the man’s head barely moved, but it had
the desired effect. His laughter ceased immediately, and the flash of
anger in his face satisfied I’mya, but only for a moment.
A mutter from his lips charged the magic in the air around them. It
swept around her, lifting her into the air, and throwing her backward
until she slammed against the wall behind her. The magic in her face
ricocheted around her head, but then pockets of pain surfaced
throughout her body. I’mya gasped, trying to figure out what was
causing it, but as her eyes landed on the giant man glaring at her, she
knew. He had pinned her to the wall and was expanding the incantation
over her whole body.
“You will beg for my forgiveness,” he snarled.
I’mya’s mouth tightened, fury bounding through her as she forced
out words that set her sore throat alight. “Release me. I do not belong
here.”
“Beg,” he demanded, his jaw hard. “Now!”
I’mya drew in a breath, clarity momentarily dulling the pain in her
body. This man was a monster. An arrogant, vicious monster. He was
going to kill her regardless of what she did or did not say. She held his
eye, relishing the rage growing on his face. “Never.”
The incantation in her body instantly increased in intensity,
spreading like fire through her insides.
I’mya screamed, yelled her anger and pain at him as she tried to
wriggle away from the wall. Screaming further inflamed her throat, but
she didn’t care. The pain was unbearable and would probably kill her,
and if she was going to die, she was going to do it screaming obscenities
at this bastard.
The magic overwhelmed her body, blinding her and locking her
mouth shut again while pinning her to the wall. She squeezed her eyes
shut and breathed heavy, trying to stay conscious against the tidal
waves of agony crashing down on her from every angle. It was an
impossible battle.
Just as she was about to tip into the relief of unconsciousness, a
pleasurable twinge pulled her back. I’mya focused on it, trying to take
her mind off everything else. The man was close again—his heat and
his scent surrounded her.
The pleasure came from a rough brush between her legs. It came
again, firmer and more persistent, building a rhythm.
I’mya opened her eyes to see the man leaning over her as his fingers
gently explored her folds. “Such a sweet scent right here,” he murmured
as he leaned closer, breathing her in. “I don’t recall having it before. Are
you new or did my dragon somehow bring you here?”
I’mya didn’t attempt a response. He was clearly a madman. Besides,
pain and pleasure fought for dominance within her and nothing could
hold her concentration. A corner of his mouth curved up as he watched
her, low words rumbling from his chest. “Either way, you are mine now.
To do with as I please.”
I’mya tried to snarl at him, but he did something that shocked her
into stillness. Sliding his large hand to the back of her neck, he lowered
his head to scent her, running his nose from her collarbone, along her
neck, stopping just behind her ear.
The intimacy of such a personal action sent a powerful shudder
through I’mya, stimulating the tingle in her stomach and between her
legs. A moan escaped from the back of her throat and she arched into
him, threading her arms around his neck. The man stilled, his
expression a mixture of curiosity, surprise, and suspicion—as if he’d
never seen a female before and was intent on examining her every
move in case she attacked. Something about that amused I’mya.
She chuckled, pulling herself closer to him, until her back lifted from
the wall and she hovered in the air. He let her, watching her closely until
she pressed herself against him. An appreciative rumble tumbled from
his chest and vibrated between them. I’mya found that pleasurable. She
leaned forward and pressed her lips against his.
As soon as their lips touched, fresh, thick magic rushed into her,
embedding into every fiber of her body, chasing away the incantation.
This new magic was like air, filling up every particle, breathing into her
a potent awareness that connected her with… everything. She could feel
the entire mountain and every individual moving within it. She could
feel the dragon flying close to the mountain, its mood content.
Amazingly, the man she clung to was a blinding magic force who
distracted her, but as the magic seeped into her mind, memories
appeared in her mind’s eye.
A tall, dark tower loomed over a destroyed city. Among the wreckage, a
beautiful castle for a king.
A handsome man with thick, black curls lecturing her in a potions
room, his brow raising when she snorted at his words.
“I’mya!” A young girl called to her, beckoning her to play.
“—the magic won’t be stable if you mispronounce it,” the man with
black curls insisted. “Half of the problem is—”

A deep growl echoed in her ears as she was drawn up into the air, a hot
mouth exploring hers with a savage intensity.
I’mya slid her arms around his broad shoulders and whimpered into
his mouth as he drew her close, pulling her against his chest and
reaching down to wrap her legs around his torso. He squeezed her
bottom, pressed her tightly against him as the magic charged through
her body, heightening the glorious feel of him. His scent strengthened
and her desire flew out of control.
She humped her hips onto him, rolling them to press herself closer.
The man growled again, breaking the kiss to lower his lips to her
sensitive neck. I’mya’s toes curled and she shuddered as he kissed and
nibbled and licked down her neck. There was something about that
action that was too intimate, too precious. The neck was not supposed
to be an area that a random stranger should be allowed access to, but
the niggling thought had no effect. I’mya simply could not heed the
warning when it felt so good.

The young girl twirled, the skirt of her pale green dress floating around
her, rippling as she twirled. “Look at me!” she squealed. “Look at me,
I’mya!”
 The man with black curls was angry. “This is the danger they are to
the Twin Realms, to the Dominions. They need to be stopped!”
The highest window at the top of the tower gave the best view of the
city, broken and desolate as it was. From there, the extent of the ember
could be seen from miles, and the rotten tang of magic was strongest.

The hot mouth closed on her nipple and I’mya’s attention was drawn
away from the memories snapping through her mind. She moaned, her
fingers sinking into the man’s tousled hair. He kissed down her
stomach, swirling his tongue around her belly button before continuing
down between her legs, hooking her knees over his shoulders as he
knelt and buried his face between her legs and inhaled with another
appreciative rumble.
I’mya felt like she was in a dream. Magic floated her in the air with
no other support, coursed through her as if she were made from it,
connected her wholly, giving her access to the knowledge she needed to
escape, but the pleasure he was providing overwhelmed and distracted
her. She couldn’t concentrate. Her back arched as the man lapped her
folds, licking and nipping on her with a fervor that made her spread her
legs and hump into his face. A thick digit entered her, and exquisitely
wicked sensations careened through her body. She moaned as he
captured a bundle of pleasure within her folds and caressed it with his
tongue. A volatile crescendo built so swiftly, she almost didn’t have time
to catch her breath before it cascaded over her, staggered through her
body as she convulsed uncontrollably.
The tension slowly released from I’mya’s body as she descended,
unable to cease twitching as the man administered the last few licks
along her dripping slit, ensuring to carefully harass her sensitive
bundle. When he moved and got to his feet, she eyed him warily. This
was not a good position to be in, yet she couldn’t say she hadn’t
encouraged it. There was no doubt what was about to happen now.
The man’s eyes were heavy on her as he reached for his pants,
unbuckling himself as she hung in midair. There was something
extremely appealing about the way he moved. And his glistening beard
and mouth almost had her spreading her knees and begging him to
return between them. It was utterly pleasing to see the evidence of her
pleasure on him.
I’mya caught the thought and pushed it away sharply, annoyed with
herself. Why would she think that? This should not have happened. She
was supposed to be explaining to him that she wasn’t supposed to be
here! She had to correct this situation, but couldn’t find the words to
begin. What was she supposed to say?
Just as she opened her mouth, an ear-splitting screech came from
outside the opening. The giant man froze and shot a look toward the
opening, a scowl forming on his face.
A loud, animalistic shriek came again, followed by another different
one, and then the two blared at the same time.
“Nyro!” The word roared like a command from a deep voice outside
the opening.
The man growled as he stalked to the edge.
I’mya glimpsed a dark flash shoot across the expanse followed by
another.
The man leaned out and bellowed out over the mountain range,
though it wasn’t clear whom he was bellowing at or what he said.
I’mya took a deep breath, calming herself as she wiggled her limbs,
trying to get them back under her control.
“Do you think we are safe here, I’mya?” The girl, huddled under a tatty
blanket, looked up at her with large brown eyes.
“Of course we are,” I’mya responded firmly. “I will always keep you
safe. You know that.”
The girl was silent for a moment. “You can’t control everything that
happens,” she said quietly. “What if we are separated?”
“Then I will find you,” I’mya said firmly. “I will always protect you,
I’yala. That is my job.”

The determination from the memory seeped into her bones as it faded,
and I’mya breathed heavily. Who was that little girl? She was someone
important, someone I’mya loved deeply—she could feel it from the
memories.
Suddenly I’mya realized her feet were on the floor, the magic no
longer held her in the air. In fact, it was fading from her body as was the
connection she had to everything around her.
The enormous man still bellowed out into the opening, but then
suddenly turned back to her and barked out a couple of words, his eyes
blazing with anger.
Then he jumped.
I’mya gasped, taking a step closer to the outside, but within a few
moments, the dragon rose up, sailing out over the mountain range with
the man standing firm on its back.
I’mya didn’t hesitate. Turning on her heel, she ran back out into the
corridor as fast as she could. She didn’t know where she was going, but
at this point, it didn’t matter; getting away was more important.
She ran through corridors she didn’t recognize, looking for another
fissure in the mountain lair that could be a way out, but as the magic
finally faded from her body, her exhaustion returned tenfold. And she
collapsed again, this time falling into complete darkness.
 2

“W hat the fuck are you doing on my range, Zendyor!”

Nyro wasn’t sure he would be able to stop himself from ripping his
brother to shreds at that moment. Luckily, their other brother Tyomar
was there to attempt to smooth things over. He flew alongside Nyro on
his own dan askha, separating him and Zendyor.
“He just wants to talk to you about a territory matter,” Tyomar
called. “I told you already.”
“I was busy!” Nyro bellowed. “You interrupted me at a crucial
moment!” He steadied himself on Sanderyll’s back, adjusting for the
angle the creature was making toward the mountain range they were
now all heading to. Once on the back of his dragon, it was too much
trouble to try to redirect him back to the mountain.
“Since when have you been doing anything important for the last
few centuries?” Zendyor shouted from the other side of Tyomar. “All you
do is eat, sleep, fuck, and hunt!”
“Exactly,” Nyro shot back. “I am always busy, and any time you
attempt to speak to me about your delusions, you are fucking up my
day.”
Sanderyll shot forward, twisting slightly as he inched ahead of the
other dragons. There was no doubt he could feel Nyro’s annoyance, just
like Nyro could feel his emotions when they were strong.
“We had a clan meeting, as well,” Tyomar called. “I was coming to
get you.”
“And you would have waited,” Nyro bellowed back. “There is no
reason for any of my kin to be on my mountain range unless we are
hunting together. This was established a long time ago.”
The rapid winds prevented his brothers from responding to him,
which suited Nyro just fine. He doubted he could stop himself from
attacking them if they continued to talk.
He’d just had to drag himself away from the most intriguing female
he’d encountered in a long time to deal with his brothers’ trespassing. It
wasn’t as if the law was new—it had been an agreement they had all
made with each other from when they were toddlers establishing their
claim on the Twin Realms. No one trespassed on another’s range. The
fact that his brother did so with such ease, and over petty issues, caused
him to miss out on what he knew would have been the fuck of his life; it
infuriated him beyond measure. If that woman was not in the exact spot
she’d been in when he left, he might have to fight Zen just on the
principle of it. For now, he had her taste on his tongue to settle him.
As they rounded the largest mountain in the range they’d traveled
to, the winds suddenly dropped away.
Nyro chanted out an incantation and then jumped off his dragon.
Magic came to his aid, providing support under his feet as he glided
toward the entrance of the mountain.
As soon as they landed, Zendyor once again had to continue being
his infuriating self. “That’s not the only thing that was established
centuries ago,” his brother said. “I told you to never take what is mine.”
His eyes flashed, his arms tensed, and his jaw was hard. But this wasn’t
unusual for Zendyor. The man was a hothead, constantly angry and
furious about everything. Nyro ignored him most of the time, especially
because there wasn’t much he cared about that would incite his anger
—except this time.
“I do not have anything that is yours,” Nyro said. “You know the law;
anyone found on my range belongs to me. Anyone found on your range
belongs to you. Why is that so hard for you to understand?”
“She was on my land first,” Zendyor roared. “She traveled through
my range to get to yours.”
Nyro slowed to a stop and turned to face his brother. He couldn’t
possibly be talking about that walnut-haired, tawny-skinned beauty
who he’d just had his mouth on, could he? Because if it was, they would
certainly battle. “Who do you mean?” He turned to face his brother,
watching him closely for his reaction.
“The female,” Zendyor said. “She traveled through my range and
then was picked up in yours, probably to become one of your fuck
women.”
“We do not pick up random women,” Nyro said, even though the
woman’s protest that she did not belong to his lair rang fresh in his
mind. “There is a selection process. If she was supposed to be joining
my lair, then she was always mine and you cannot lay claim.”
Zendyor glowered, looking ready to draw fire, and Nyro was ready
for him, but Tyomar, peacemaker that he was, stepped between them.
“We will discuss this at the clan table,” he said calmly. “It will get
resolved.”
“It had better,” Zendyor bellowed. “I’m tired of his shit. He can barely
give any thought to any Vattoro matters, yet he wants to use our laws to
hold on to that which does not belong to him!”
Nyro ignored them both and stalked into the meeting room, hoping
that it would be quick this time. For some reason, his brothers insisted
on these pointless clan meetings—a waste of his time when he could be
doing plenty of other things that brought him great pleasure and
satisfaction. All they did during these meetings was talk in circles about
things they could not change but, as Tyomar repeatedly pointed out to
him, it was part of his duty.
“I see the last of us is here,” Sethorn, another one of their brothers,
greeted dryly.
“Can we make this quick?” Nyro said, throwing himself down into a
chair. “I have things to do.”
No one bothered to respond to him. He was well aware that this
meeting would take as long as necessary, and that even though he chose
not to partake in all of their plans, he had to attend. Each time he
arrived at these meetings, he cursed himself that he’d agreed to this
madness. As the last remaining alphas of their kind, he should have the
right to live his life as he pleased. Attending meetings about futile topics
was not one of the things that pleased him.
Of course Khyros, the eldest, was already seated and waiting for
them—they were in his mountain range, after all. Wide and imposing,
he watched everyone in the room and was the most serious and
secretive of them all. Usually he only spoke when there was something
vitally important to discuss, but he was the head of the clan and the one
who insisted on these meetings. Nyro understood why. Khyros was
suffering a great deal, and that was the only reason why Nyro made any
effort at all.
The Vattoro temple looked as it always did. Decorated in the six
colors that represented their clan, it honored the history and legend of
their ancestors. The huge rectangular stone table in the center of the
hall had chairs for the brothers on each side with Khyros seated on a
raised platform at the end of the table. As head of the clan, it was as it
should be.
Zendyor stalked in and sat directly opposite Nyro, glaring at him as
he leaned back in his chair. Nyro glared back, daring him to do
something, but recognizing that as highly territorial beings, they were
both experiencing something familiar. This wasn’t new behavior for any
of them. Last time, it had been Sethorn and Tyomar, who had almost
come to blows. Any territorial breech could set any brother off.
Zendyor’s accusation that he’d purposefully taken a woman was
ridiculous. Nyro’s sole concern was being dragged away from what
promised to be an extremely riveting encounter to deal with his
brother’s falsehoods and inability to stay off his range. “We are ready,”
Sethorn announced as Tyomar took his seat.
Khyros finally inclined his head. “Then we will get started. Before
we get to clan business, is there anything we need to discuss first?”
“Yes,” Zendyor bit out. “I have a territory issue.”
Nyro leaned onto the table, his face tight as he shot his brother a
warning. “If you bring up a territory issue, I hope you are prepared to
lose that territory.”
“You are the one who is not honoring our laws,” Zendyor bellowed.
“What is this about?” Sethorn asked.
“Nyro has taken someone into his lair who traveled across my range
first. They should belong to me.”
Sethorn glanced at Nyro before addressing Zendyor. “Were they
heading for his lair? Or were they simply trespassing on both of your
territories?”
“They were heading to mine,” Nyro interjected. “Apparently,
according to the unlawful research Zendyor has conducted, this
individual was recruited by my stewards and therefore was always
mine.”
“If your stewards allowed her to cross my territory, then she is
mine,” Zendyor bellowed. “You cannot change the rules to suit yourself
when you feel like it.”
 “I don’t have anything to do with recruitment in my lair,” Nyro
bellowed back at him, almost offended at the suggestion. “Anything that
happened may or may not be the result of my stewards’ efforts.” He
turned to Khyros. “I cannot take responsibility for the things they may
or may not have done.”
“You can take responsibility for the fact that you have not
investigated it or sought to correct it!” Zendyor bellowed.
“Calm down,” Tyomar urged.
Silence fell over the table as Zendyor glared at Nyro.
“Why are you so frustrated and angry, Zendyor?” Khyros finally
spoke.
Zendyor took a breath, tension releasing from his shoulders as he
exhaled. “I don’t mean to be disrespectful to you, Khyros,” he mumbled,
finally dragging his eyes from Nyro to face the head of the clan. “It is not
my intention to make this meeting a war zone, but I have had the
misfortune of sharing boundaries with Nyro for over five centuries now,
even though I have requested for my territory to be relocated
elsewhere. He doesn’t abide by the rules, he doesn’t listen, he doesn’t
care about the clan or about anything we stand for. I have raised this
issue multiple times in our clan meetings, and you all defend him and
make excuses for him. If you wish to do that about Vattoro concerns,
that is your prerogative, but I will not stand by when it comes to my
territory. A woman entered my range and traveled across it to get to his
lair. She was on my territory first; therefore, she belongs to me. And I
will have her.”
Nyro took a deep breath, trying to calm his tone. “Who are you
talking about? Which woman?”
“I don’t know exactly,” Zendyor admitted.
Sethorn frowned. “If you don’t know who she is, how is Nyro
supposed to locate her?”
 “That is not my problem,” Zendyor said simply. “He never should
have accepted her in the first place, considering she traveled across my
territory—his trackers and stewards would have known that fact.”
Nyro turned to Khyros, waiting for his chance to respond.
Kyros nodded.
“Our ranges are not small,” Nyro pointed out. “Both of ours span
miles and miles of open terrain—mountain high roads and valleys. If
you knew that she crossed your territory to get to mine, that means you
had time to retain her, and you didn’t. You waited until she crossed into
my territory and entered my lair. This was all done prior to you
bringing this accusation.”
Zendyor’s jaw hardened. “I didn’t get information about her
straightaway. My dragon was tracking her.”
“She wasn’t even detectable to your own trackers?” Nyro said in
disbelief. He turned to Kyros, raising his hand. “I cannot take this
seriously. He allowed this woman to slip through his grasp, and now he
is complaining that I am stealing her. I don’t even know who she is!”
Zendyor grit his teeth. “I am asking you to honor our agreement that
we would not impede each other to protect the boundaries of our
sacred territories.”
“Then you should have come to me and asked in a respectful way,”
Nyro bellowed, shooting up from his chair. “Instead of having your
dragon seek me out on my own range so intently that my dragon had to
respond. If you had approached me and asked me, I could have asked
my stewards to find the trespasser and help you. Now I have no interest
in doing that.”
Khyros raised his hand before Zendyor could reply, and he gestured
for Nyro to sit down.
“Zendyor makes some good points, Nyro,” he began, as Nyro
dropped back into his chair. “Our territories are sacred spaces, and we
obviously want them to remain so. However, Zendyor, just because Nyro
runs his lair differently than you do doesn’t mean he is attempting to
deprive you of your rights. Nor can this situation necessarily be blamed
on the actions of his staff. Our lands are so vast that it is difficult for the
lesser-mortals to determine where one range ends and another begins.
This individual you are referring to may not have known that she
crossed two ranges, and we don’t know what the stewards knew of her
journey. Is this a common occurrence that happens within both of your
territories?”
Zendyor shook his head.
“Then, we cannot assume Nyro did anything purposefully. However,
Nyro,” Khyros said heavily, “I expect you to honor the boundaries that
we set in place. Just because you do not take clan laws as seriously as
the rest of us does not mean you can do as you wish or inconvenience
any of us because you see no value or worth in the laws set forth. It is
the principle of the matter. If she was on Zendyor’s territory first,
particularly if she knew she was, then I expect you to return her to him.”
“Are you ordering me to give this one over?” Nyro said tightly.
“No,” Khyros said. “I ask that you look into it and make a decision
that falls within the oath that courses through your blood as a Vattoro
clan member.”
Nyro’s face dropped and he nodded reluctantly. He glanced at
Zendyor, who was also clearly unhappy with Khyros’ decision. As far as
Nyro was concerned, he didn’t have to do this with any urgency. It could
be another century before he came to any kind of conclusion about this
individual and her intentions, and by then she probably wouldn’t be any
use to either of them. Zendyor didn’t use kon’ayas the way that Nyro
did. In fact, none of the brothers used them as frequently as Nyro did,
except maybe Sethorn.
 “Now that is settled, we will move on to Vattoro business,” Khyros
announced.
Nyro grunted his agreement while his other brothers nodded, but as
soon as the meeting began, he leaned back in his chair and allowed his
mind to wander, as he usually did. His brothers were always so
concerned about what was going on in the Twin Realms, and how it
could affect them being the last remaining dragorai clan, but he found it
all pointless. They may be the most powerful beings in the Twin
Realms, apart from the Seven Goddesses, but they were also potentially
more vulnerable than they had ever been, and his brothers always
seemed to be in denial of the fact.
His mind returned to the woman he just left. It was a long time since
a lesser-mortal had looked at him with such anger and disgust. Most
were afraid to displease him, as they should be, and most were willing
to do whatever he said, or allow him to do whatever he wanted. This
woman had looked at him with all the indignation and ferociousness of
a Goddess herself. And she wasn’t scared of him—she had literally
punched him in the face. Of course, fury had gotten the better of him
and he’d taken to punishing her before realizing she was more delicate
than she appeared. Most lesser-mortals couldn’t hold magic in their
physical bodies without significant and severe damage or falling
unconscious from the pain, whereas this woman managed to attack him
while carrying around an unfinished incantation in her face. Part of him
wanted to see how much magic she could take.
By the time he realized the degree of pain he was causing her, he’d
been enraptured by the complex scent of her fear mixed with her
desire. She smelled like sin itself—evocative, sweet, and addictive—and
the beauty of her scowl was unparalleled. He couldn’t recall being
kissed the way she had kissed him, or even remember any woman
taking such unabashed liberties. She couldn’t be one of his kon’ayas;
he’d never encountered her before, and all of his staff knew where they
could and couldn’t go in the lair—besides which, she had been in a very
strange part of it, and naked. Nonetheless, if she wasn’t already one of
his kon’ayas, she would certainly become one. She fitted his most basic
physical preferences; full, heavy breasts, a round behind, and a tight,
succulent kon. Add to that a gorgeous face, an insolent stare, and those
plump lips, she was perfect. He would order his stewards to recruit her
as soon as possible so he could have access to her whenever he wanted.
He had a feeling it wouldn’t be easy. Women like that did not tend to
want such a role, but he didn’t care. She was in his lair and thus his
property. She had no choice. He was interested to know where she
came from, however.
Even more intriguing was why his dragon, Sanderyll, had disobeyed
Nyro’s direct instruction by going after her. It wasn’t unusual that
dragorai-dragons knew what was happening in their own lair,
sometimes even more so than the alpha. But Nyro had been heading out
for a quick flight before the clan meeting, directing Sanderyll over their
range when the dan askha tilted in the air, soaring back around to their
lair. Nyro couldn’t figure out why, and even after attempting to force San
back on track, he still headed straight toward some random opening in
the side of the mountain. Nyro was surprised to find a woman the
target of his dragon’s interest.
Almost no one realized how tenuous the link between alpha and
dragon was within the dragorai. It was a very well-guarded secret no
one spoke of outside the clans. Most people thought alphas could talk to
their dragons, maintain complete conversations and direct their
behavior, but that was only partly true. The connection between man
and dragon mainly consisted of moods and feelings—Nyro could tell
how Sanderyll was feeling, especially when he felt strongly about
something; it was like a surge of emotion layered onto his own. Only
through maturity could a dragorai-alpha tell the difference between his
own feelings and his dan askha’s.
While alphas did have the capability to direct and instruct their
dragons, it was only possible through that intense emotional
connection, unless it was forced through the use of magic. Of course, no
other being was as skilled in the use of magic as the dragorai. But it
wasn’t something most alphas were keen to use. Their dan askha’s were
wild creatures unto their own, and they tended to support their alphas
and abide by whatever the alpha felt strongly about.
In Nyro’s opinion, that was how it should be. Both dragorai-alphas
and dragons were supposed to be wild and uncontrollable, even with
each other, to some degree. He wholly believed that his clan were the
last remaining dragorai clan because of that ferocity. The Vattoros had
always been prone to violence—more so than any of the other clans
before their demise. He would not shy away from it or encourage
Sanderyll to, since it was the very reason for their continued existence.
Sanderyll’s behavior in relation to this woman remained a mystery.
It had been known in the past that dragons had captured mortals and
kept them in their lairs to toy with or to eat. Dragorai-dragons weren’t
particularly fond of that, but it wasn’t a guarantee they wouldn’t do so.
It hadn’t happened in the Vattoro clan, particularly because of the
wildness of their dragons, but it didn’t mean it was impossible. For
what reason did Sanderyll need to start focusing his attention on lesser-
mortals?
And what a delicious mystery she was! Excitement tightened his
stomach as he drummed his fingers on the table waiting for the meeting
to conclude. There were so many questions needing answers, and for an
unknown factor to present itself after so many centuries of monotonous
boredom, it was like a gift from the Goddesses. Even hunting had
become predictable. He finally had something to focus on that had
roused every part of him, as evidenced by the ridged thickness of his
length straining against his pants.
Nyro shifted in his chair, trying to make himself more comfortable.
“What do you think of that, Nyro?”
Nyro looked up, forcing himself out of his contemplation. “About
what?”
“He isn’t even listening,” muttered Zendyor.
Nyro growled at him. “I’m only here because I’m required to be, not
to actually participate in discussions.”
“So you have no feelings about who wins the war?” Sethorn asked.
“No,” Nyro said. “I’ve made it very clear that I do not think we
should involve ourselves in the affairs of the lesser-mortals. They are
the reason why we are the only clan left.”
As far as he was concerned, the inferior beings who caused the
deaths of all the other dragorai were not his concern. He didn’t care if
most of them were killed and hunted and tortured and destroyed. And
he didn’t see why the clan had to bother themselves with what was
happening with them either. Let them kill each other. He just wanted to
live his life doing things he found pleasurable—and the woman he
found was next on his list.
“Exactly,” Zendyor said. “We should make sure that we are in control
of the events that take place across the Twin Realms to ensure the
survival of our clan.”
“The only way to ensure the survival of our clan is to kill all not loyal
to us,” Nyro said forcefully. “In massive numbers, they are the only ones
who are a threat. If they want to do the task for us and kill each other, I
do not see why we should be interfering.”
Sethorn and Zendyor shook their heads in disagreement, but it
wasn’t anything new. They’d had this argument every decade since the
war had started, and the brothers were no closer to changing their
stances on getting involved.
“We know your position, Nyro,” Sethorn said gruffly. “We have
discussed it many times before. I just want to be clear that you are
choosing not to partake in any action we choose?”
“That is correct,” Nyro confirmed. “I just want to know what is going
to happen so I can make sure my dan askha and I are not in the way.”
Sethorn inclined his head. “Of course.” He spread a map of the Twin
Realms on the table. “So we can plan this quite simply—”
Nyro shifted his focus again, staring out the window overlooking
Khyros’ mountain range. Each brother had his own, spanning an
enormous amount of uninhabitable land that bridged the two extensive
lands known as the Twin Realms. Sethorn and Zendyor believed their
lands were one of the reasons they survived, and that could be true.
Nyro believed it was their brutal approach to most things but he didn’t
much care the reasons why, as he’d reiterated many times. He was a
superior being, and as such, he was owed a life of superiority. He lived
in luxury with everything he needed surrounding him. If his brothers
could only learn to adopt his approach, they would all have happier
lives. Death was coming for all of them eventually. Sometimes Nyro felt
he was the only one who was truly prepared for it.
Finally, the meeting came to a close, and all the brothers rose from
their chairs.
“I expect to hear from you soon with regards to the trespasser,”
Zendyor muttered as he strode past Nyro.
Nyro seriously considered breathing fire on the asshole’s back, but
Tyomar was watching him with another one of his “looks” on his face.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Nyro said irritably.
Tyomar bellowed out his laughter. He was used to both Nyro’s
indifference and Zendyor’s irritable moods and actually seemed fond of
each of their characteristics. “I don’t know why you’re letting him get to
you so much. Normally you ignore him.”
“I don’t appreciate him demanding my time or telling me who can
and cannot be part of my staff,” Nyro growled. “We all know you do not
interfere with another brother’s lair.”
“I’m not getting into it,” Tyomar said, raising his hands. “It was
already discussed during the meeting. You do what you need to do, and
Zendyor will do what he needs to do.”
“Traitor,” Nyro muttered gruffly, although he was jesting. Tyomar
was one of the more committed and positive brothers of the clan. He
always encouraged the brothers to get along and tried to defuse their
disagreements. Nearly all the brothers enjoyed his company; he was
friendly with them all. Of the brothers, Tyomar was Nyro’s favorite for
that reason. He never judged Nyro for wanting to live his life simply and
not be involved in clan politics or lesser-mortals affairs. He cared for
him as he was, and his amiable nature made it difficult not to return
that affection.
Nyro sent out a call for Sanderyll and launched himself from the
mountain onto the dragon’s back with magic as he bid his brothers
farewell. He encouraged him to fly as fast as he could back to their lair,
straight back to that opening in the mountain to finish what he started
with his mystery woman. But when he dropped into the opening he was
shocked to find it empty.
Nyro stood staring at where he’d left her, dumbfounded. Disbelief
coursed through his veins that she was gone. How dare she leave! He
had explicitly told her to wait.
He turned and shook his head, outraged at her disobedience, before
realizing that she probably hadn’t understood him. She spoke one of the
baser, derivative tongues of the lesser-mortals—which one, he had no
idea. And even though he mostly understood what she said, he would
never lower himself to actually speak those languages. She would have
to learn to understand him.
Walking around the small space, he looked for any sign of where she
may have gone, but it wasn’t like she could leave any tracks inside the
lair for him to follow, especially when she had no clothes.
A growl erupted from his chest as he realized he now had to hunt
her down. But accompanying his annoyance was bone-deep excitement
the challenge presented. Her scent still lingered in the area, and he took
a deep breath before turning back to call Sanderyll.
He needed to scout around the outside of the mountain to see if she
had fallen or climbed down. It was a perilous journey, but it wasn’t
unusual for lesser-mortals to think they could successfully scale the
mountain. He considered whether she was one of his kon’ayas, but it
was impossible. Never would a kon’aya of his behave so boldly or so
rash. They were all meek and obedient, even before the stewards
trained them to be. Still, he would ask the head steward about any new
recruits.
Part of him worried that this woman was the one Zendyor was after,
but if she was no longer here, then Zendyor could not stake a claim, and
Nyro had no obligation to look into the matter. Furthermore, Zen didn’t
deserve a woman like that. Even if Nyro became bored with her, which
he did not foresee happening anytime soon, a beauty and body like that
was not ever destined for Zendyor.
Sanderyll arrived, swooping around the opening as he screeched,
annoyed by Nyro’s demands, but Nyro ignored him. He muttered the
incantation that would take him through the air and onto the dragon’s
back, then fixed himself in a comfortable position as San soared
downward to the bottom of the mountain.
He would make it his duty to find that woman and when he did, he
would enjoy her to the full extent of his capabilities.
 3

I ’mya woke thrashing.

“Calm down!” Strong hands held down her arms.
I’mya tried to speak but could only gurgle.
Voices blurred in her ears as a powerful, soothing calm seeped into
her body. It was clearly being forced on her, but she was unable to fight
it.
She drifted away, floating on clouds of quiet that hushed her alarm.
She wasn’t sure how long she lay lulled by the peace of it, her mind
blank, her body rested.
But eventually the prickle of unease burrowed back into her, and
she woke with a start.
I’mya sat up abruptly, her hands flying to her face. The magic was
gone. She opened her mouth as wide as she could, wriggling her jaw
and tongue, but there was no sign the magic was still in her face.
Lowering her hands, she exhaled in relief and took in her
surroundings. She sat in a tiny, enclosed space just slightly longer than
her length and about five hand-widths higher than her head. Beneath
her was a heap of thick, white bedding, pillows, and cushions. The walls
were smoothed and carved around her, like she was inside a fat tube. At
the foot of her makeshift bed, the wall jutted out creating a small ledge,
on top of which sat an orb emitting a soft opalescent glow that filled the
tiny area, but I’mya suddenly realized that was not where most of the
light in the space was coming from. There was an opening behind her,
so she crawled to the edge to look out.
As she sat back down, looking out and around, she realized she was
high up inside the wall of a large room. Before her, beds and cushioned
chairs were dotted around on the ground. On the left wall was artwork,
orbs, shelves, and wooden chests, as well as a set of double doors. I’mya
sat in one of about seven small, deep sleeping spaces that had been
carved into one of the walls creating cozy sleeping nooks. I’mya was in
one of two nooks positioned at the top, with three in a row below and
another two below that, allowing her to overlook the entire room. A
number of naked women milled around the space, lying on beds
reading or chatting. On the right wall, almost the entire part had been
cut away, leaving a large opening to the outside, displaying a view of a
bright mountain range, similar to the one where she’d seen the dragon.
At the thought of the dragon, fear kindled in her chest. She looked
down, checking her body. There were no burn marks or sensitive skin
where she’d felt the dragon’s fire. She peered at the view of the
mountains in the distance, but there was no dragon in sight. She wasn’t
even sure it was the same mountain range, although it looked similar.
The various shades of grey of the rocky terrain were dusted in white,
unifying them under the bright skies.
And then, of course, there was the enormous man. Heat rushed up
her neck and burned her cheeks at the thought of their encounter—
what he did to her and how she responded. She couldn’t imagine why
she’d encouraged him, why she’d savored his kiss and reveled in his
attentions. It had to be something to do with this lair, making her act
abnormally. Or maybe it was because of his scent. It had been truly
gorgeous, multi-layered, deep and enticing. It wasn’t as though he
wasn’t pleasing to the eye either. In fact, she couldn’t imagine a more
handsome man, but that wasn’t the point. He had jumped on top of the
dragon… Who would dare do something like that? Something wasn’t
right here—she was missing a key piece of information. But it wouldn’t
elude her much longer. Her memories were returning. Even if she didn’t
understand them yet, that didn’t matter. If she could remember the
layout of the mountain—that she’d known when magic was in her veins
—she should be able to find a safe and undetectable way out.
“You’re awake.”
I’mya shifted to the edge of her nook and peered out. In the nook on
her left, the girl with the golden hair sat with her legs swinging—the
same one she’d tried to speak to in the corridor. She was leaning
forward, peering over at I’mya.
“When Dayatha brought you in unconscious, I was a little worried,”
she said, smiling nervously. “We’re supposed to be safe here.”
I’mya shifted to sit on the edge too, tucking her legs underneath her,
and she leaned forward to respond, but as soon as she made a sound, a
harsh, burning pain blasted through the back of her throat. She winced,
her hand flying to her neck. Even though the magic was gone, her throat
was still raw from all the screaming.
“Don’t worry,” the girl said. “She said she’ll be back to treat you
again soon.”
I’mya swallowed carefully, wincing again as the pain flared, and
nodded in response.
“She said you were becoming hysterical.” The girl gave her a pity
smile. “I know it’s hard to get used to the idea of being safe, but you
don’t have anything to worry about here.” She leaned her elbows on her
knees and dropped her chin on her hand as she looked out over the
room, her expression almost dreamy. “It almost unbelievable we’re
here. I prayed to the Seven that it would happen before I reached thirty-
one.”
I’mya frowned at her. Clearly this girl knew nothing of the enormous
dragon that tried to burn and eat her alive. Nor the giant who almost
strangled her and buried his face between her legs. And that was all
after she’d been attacked with magic by the steward of this place.
“How old are y—” The girl turned to see I’mya’s face and her smile
disappeared. “Aren’t you happy to be here?” she asked.
I’mya shook her head, and suddenly the girl looked somewhat
uncomfortable.
She glanced down at the nooks directly under them and then leaned
as far over as she could to get closer to I’mya, her voice low. “Did
someone hurt you?”
Before I’mya could answer, a new voice cut in.
“I can assure you, that is not the case.” Dayatha walked toward them
on the ground below, a sharpness in her eyes as she looked up. “Any
pain she is experiencing is of her own doing.” She turned to I’mya.
“Come with me.”
I’mya said nothing, glaring back at Dayatha just as fiercely.
Dayatha’s eyes narrowed. “It is time to treat your throat.”
I’mya still didn’t move, and from the corner of her eye, she saw the
girl next to her fidgeting in her nook, watching them both. Clearly, she
was unable to handle the awkwardness of the moment because she
began to speak. “Maybe I can bring her to—”
“Quiet, Elora,” Dayatha interrupted, her eyes not leaving I’mya. “I
wish to see if your companion will disobey a direct instruction given by
a steward.”
I’mya’s stomach dropped. Dayatha seemed to be making some kind
of threat, but I’mya didn’t know enough about this place to even
understand it. A couple of the girls on the ground, nearby Dayatha,
seemed to understand though. They glanced up at I’mya in alarm, as if
wanting to lay their eyes upon the fool refusing to obey a steward.
Dayatha sighed, clasping her hands in front of her. “I only wish treat
your throat, I’mya. Once it is healed, I will answer all of your questions
and you will answer mine.”
I’mya hesitated for a long moment and glanced at the golden-haired
girl, who watched her with a bewildered gaze. While I’mya didn’t
particularly trust Dayatha, she needed to find out more about this place
if she had any hope of finding a way to leave. One thing that struck her
as unusual was that the other girls had an understanding of what was
going on—they hadn’t had any memory loss, and most importantly,
they weren’t afraid.
I’mya nodded at Dayatha.
“Climb down using the holds on the wall,” Dayatha said, pointing to
the path of little half circle handholds that ran alongside each nook.
I’mya carefully climbed out onto the wall and, hooking her fingers
and toes into the holds, made her way down to the ground. Halfway
down, she realized she wasn’t holding all her weight. Something buoyed
her in the air, similar to when the giant man had lifted her in the air
with magic—she wasn’t sure that if she let go, she would fall. When she
reached the bottom, she looked back up the wall, examining it, but
could see nothing significant. Of course, magic was still heavy in the air.
“It is a safety feature,” Dayatha said, gesturing for her to follow.
“There’s no point in our omegas sustaining injuries trying to get in and
out of their beds.”
She followed Dayatha out of the room and into the wide corridor.
Disappointment stung as she realized that not only had the feel of the
mountain and its layout disappeared, she had no memory of it. She
wouldn’t be able to get out of the mountain without that knowledge.
 Dayatha led her through a couple of wide, orb-lit corridors before
entering a room. Again, one of the craggy walls was cut away, showing a
view of the bright mountain range. In the middle sat a desk littered
with papers and writing equipment, while floor-to-ceiling shelves held
neat rows of bottles filled with colored liquids and strange items. In the
corner of the room was a winding bookshelf that looked like vines
stretching up the wall. It had books encased within it, snug together, yet
with their spines conveniently outward facing, and in another corner, a
fat little yellow kettle with steam curling from the spout sat on a table.
The room was a mix between a potion room and an office.
“It seems we had a regrettable first encounter.” Dayatha made her
way to the row of bottles and picked up a slim vial.
I’mya stayed by the door. “You attacked me.” She forced the words
out, but couldn’t help the wince that followed. Speaking set her throat
on fire—it was as if her throat was being internally torn apart by
wolves.
Dayatha unscrewed the vial as she walked back toward her. “Open.
This will heal your throat.”
I’mya eyed the bottle but opened her mouth as Dayatha approached.
The pain in her throat was too unbearable to not obey.
She tipped three drops into I’mya’s mouth and then tapped under
her chin for her to close it. “Keep your mouth closed until the feeling
fades,” she said as she returned the vial and made her way to the desk.
“It should only take a few moments.”
Icy-cold frost burst into existence on I’mya’s tongue and coated her
mouth in an instant. She almost choked in surprise as her tongue and
gums stung with cold, but as she swallowed, the ice melted, leaving a
cool tingle in her throat. Amazingly, the pain faded rapidly with the
frost until both sensations disappeared.
 “It wasn’t intended to be an attack,” Dayatha was saying from behind
the desk. “It was intended to calm you—that is what that incantation
usually does. I can see now that someone with your disposition
requires other methods.”
I’mya frowned as she rubbed her neck. “What does that mean?”
Dayatha sat down and gestured again to the chair on the other side
of the desk.
I’mya glanced again around the room before moving slowly to sit
down.
“It means I did not realize you are well skilled in Thrakondarian.”
Dayatha raised an eyebrow and spoke slowly. “There are very, very few
who can invoke magic with their mouths locked shut.”
I’mya stilled, unsure what the implications were. It sounded like the
steward didn’t know about her encounter with the giant man. I’mya
lifted her shoulders. “I’m not sure that’s what I did,” she muttered, “but
people can do incredible things when they feel threatened.”
“Not that,” Dayatha remarked. “It is also strange that, for someone
with no memory, you consider magic a threat.”
I’mya didn’t know how to respond to that. She did consider magic
dangerous, but she didn’t know why. “Is it not?” she asked tentatively.
Dayatha didn’t respond. She simply observed I’mya, examining her.
I’mya resisted the sudden need to cover herself again, but what was the
point now? This woman had seen everything there was to see, and she
wasn’t the only one. But she took the opportunity to further examine
the steward.
Dayatha was very well put together, neat and orderly, and I’mya
wouldn’t be surprised if that was how she liked to run the lair. Not one
strand of her auburn hair was out of place, and it was still difficult to
determine her age. Her smooth and dewy skin didn’t hold one wrinkle,
but I’mya had the feeling she was much older than she appeared. Her
features were well defined and her watchful eyes gave her an air of
experience, intelligence, and cunningness.
“You said you would answer all of my questions,” I’mya said finally,
after the silence stretched too long.
Dayatha inclined her head. “Yes, and you will answer all of mine.”
“Then where am I? It seems like I’m in the Forbidden Mountains.”
“Yes, that’s exactly where you are,” Dayatha confirmed.
“But how can I be here? How did I get here?”
“You requested transport, and then you were escorted from the
meeting point.”
I’mya raised a brow. “I requested transport?”
Dayatha nodded, leaning forward to rest her elbows on the desk.
“You said that you do not remember your name? Is that still true?”
I’mya rubbed her lips together, recalling the scraps of memories she
was trying to hold onto. “No. My name is I’mya.”
Dayatha nodded slowly. “Anything else?”
I’mya shook her head. There was no way she was going to explain
her disjointed memories to this woman. Besides, she didn’t understand
them herself—she needed time to examine them.
Dayatha clasped her hands on the desk. “I want to know how you
learned Thrakondarian,” she said somewhat firmly.
I’mya frowned. “What is Thra… um?”
“It is the language magic bends to,” Dayatha answered. “You have an
exceptionally skilled tongue, which suggests that you were trained by
someone dangerous to us.”
I’mya blinked. “Someone dangerous to you? There is a ferocious
creature who frequents this mountain,” she said, pointing to the
mountain range. “That has to be the most dangerous thing to you.”
“Actually no,” Dayatha said calmly. “Dragons protect us.”
 I’mya rose slowly from her seat, amazed at such an idiotic
suggestion. “How can that be? They are known for destroying
civilizations. They eat and hunt people, destroy cities and continents.
They are completely wild and cannot be controlled. How can they be
protecting you?”
“Sit down,” Dayatha ordered.
I’mya observed her for a long moment, wondering if she shouldn’t
just storm out of the office and find her own way out of the mountain,
but it wasn’t worth the risk. Not with that creature flying around. She
needed more information.
“I will tell you what I know,” Dayatha added.
I’mya lowered herself back into her chair.
“You first applied to join our lair eight months ago,” Dayatha began.
I’mya mouth dropped open. “Eight?”
“You applied again four months ago,” Dayatha said, ignoring her
interruption, “and then again two months ago. You were accepted on
your last application two weeks ago. The information that we have is
that you are a thirty-one-year-old omega who was a dressmaker from
the North cities. Your entire area had been decimated in the war,
including your place of work, and your elderly parents recently died.
You had no one else. So you were eager to join us, even though you had
no prior skills that would be particularly beneficial in the kon’aya role,”
Dayatha added. “You never once mentioned in your application that you
could wield Thrakondarian, or indeed had any knowledge of magic. So
you can see why this makes us concerned.”
There were so many questions that rose in I’mya’s mind, but she
went with the most recent one. “When you say ‘us’ who do you mean?”
“Those of us who maintain this lair,” Dayatha said. “We have a
hierarchy within this community, but we do not make decisions
singularly, and of course every kon’aya must be thoroughly vetted. Any
decision we make must benefit our lord. It does not benefit him to
admit someone who speaks his mother tongue and who has the
potential to cause harm to his lair.”
“Who is our lord’?” I’mya asked nervously.
“Master Nyro.”
I’mya tried to school her face from the horror bounding through her.
Nyro… hadn’t that been the word called out just before the giant man
jumped out of the opening? She hoped it wasn’t him.
“Of the Vattoro clan,” Dayatha added.
Clan? That sounded tribal.
When I’mya shook her head, still confused, Dayatha added, “A
dragorai clan.”
Everything fell into place so swiftly, I’mya was breathless for a
moment, struggling to catch her breath as her heart pounded in her
ears. It couldn’t be possible. “I’m in a dragorai lair?” she asked weakly.
Of course it made sense now. That dragon… dragons did not commonly
exist anymore. The only remaining few were the most vicious that
couldn’t be killed. They were attached to alpha counterparts, one of
whom Dayatha was saying was the master of this lair. And that had to
be the man who’d slapped magic around her face before… pleasuring
her.
“You are here as a kon’aya,” Dayatha added. “Do you know what that
is?”
I’mya shook her head, dread borrowing into her chest.
“You should know,” Dayatha said, watching her closely. “It is a
Thrakondarian word.”
I’mya shook her head. “I don’t know the language.”
“You must,” Dayatha said evenly. “The magic was gone from your jaw
when we found you. You had to have cast to do that.”
 I’mya hesitated, unable to decide if she should tell her about the
man or not, when she suddenly realized she had used magic. She’d
created the shield against the dragon and lost all her energy. “I came
across an opening in the lair,” she began. “A dragon was trying to climb
through. It frightened me and I… I reacted. I don’t know what I said or
how I was able to use it when I did, but I don’t have any knowledge of it
I can draw on.”
Dayatha observed her. “Maybe you can only use it when you are
under stress,” she muttered. She shook her head and then sighed. “A
kon’aya is an individual whose sole purpose is to provide sexual
pleasure and relief to their employer.”
Horror slammed into I’mya. She was a sex slave?
“Not a sex slave,” Dayatha said, as if she had spoken out loud. “Many
who are unfamiliar with the role think that is what it is, but it’s not. It’s
an ancient practice, a prized voluntary position in which the individual
takes pride in the service. In return, the employer provides the kon’aya
with anything they are in need of, usually money or status. In this
circumstance, you are provided with a safe home, a family, plentiful
food, routine, and as an omega, your every need will be met. It is a
highly attractive position for many, considering the devastation that has
ravaged the Realm.”
“Omega?” I’mya whispered. Of course she was an omega. How could
she forget that?
“Yes,” Dayatha replied. “I was wondering why you didn’t put your
hand up with the others.”
So that was why she reacted that way to the giant man. He had to be
an alpha. I’mya took a breath and logged that piece of knowledge aside
for later. “The devastation over the… Realm. Is that the war?” I’mya
asked.
“Yes. It has plagued the lands for decades.”
 I’mya thought for a long moment. “So I applied specifically for this
position?”
“Multiple times.”
I’mya shook her head. What could she have been thinking? The idea
she had been willing to offer her body to this place… what kind of
person had she been? No wonder the giant man had touched her the
way he had… hadn’t he even said the word kon’aya when he questioned
her? He thought she belonged to a group of sex servants. But she
couldn’t have wanted this role. She just knew that she couldn’t have.
“Do you have my applications? Can I look at them?”
Dayatha shook her head. “That wouldn’t be appropriate. All
applications are notated and stored. They are solely for the eyes of the
stewards of this lair.”
“Surely it cannot harm for me to see—”
“No.” Dayatha’s voice was clipped. “The information is private and
for our own use. Once we accept someone, we store that information
away, then it is destroyed. Your old life has no bearing on your life here,
unless of course you are harboring secrets, such as being capable of
welding Thrakondarian. I went to speak to the other stewards after I
found you had collapsed and realized that you used magic. I wanted to
know if you disclosed that information to us beforehand. You had not.”
“I’m not harboring secrets,” I’mya insisted. “I just don’t remember
—”
“You may not remember now,” Dayatha said with a calm coldness,
“but you withheld that information from us when you applied.
Thrakondarian isn’t something you just casually pick up in one day, or
even one year. It requires dedicated practice and instruction.”
“Does that mean I cannot stay here?” I’mya was unable to keep the
hope from her voice.
 Dayatha shook her head. “You cannot leave here, I’mya. No one
leaves here.”
“Why not?”
“Do you remember what a dragorai is? Do you remember why these
mountains are forbidden?”
I’mya’s brows wrinkled as she tried to draw on specific memories,
but her apprehension about dragons and the dragorai stemmed more
from a feeling than anything else—a deep-seated dread tumbled along
her spine. “I know that dragons are extremely dangerous,” she said
finally. “I don’t know how I know it, I just know they’ve been known to
destroy entire civilizations and have extreme tempers. I shouldn’t be
near them and neither should anyone else.”
Dayatha nodded. “Some of that is true.” She leaned back in her chair
as she spoke. “There are dragons and there are alphas, then there are
the dragorai, which are a unique dragon and alpha pair. They have a
bond that is established at birth and is maintained throughout their
lives. Both animal and man have all the strength and dominance of both
species and very few weaknesses. As such, the dragorai are basically
immortal. They have lived through many Ages and have done many
things. No one can be certain of their actions in history, rumor
surrounds them. We do not know much about their origins or how the
connection between animal and dragon works either, though many say
that they were created by one of the Seven.
“Each dragorai has a lair and their lairs have a community of people
who help to keep the lair in good condition and provide things the
dragorai needs. It is not unusual.”
“That doesn’t make them any less dangerous,” I’mya insisted. “That
dragon was dangerous—it tried to kill me.”
“They are dangerous,” Dayatha agreed, ignoring I’mya’s last
comment. “But they are also considered sacred—a dan askha—which
means sacred animal. Which is why no one is permitted to enter this
lair, or the mountain range at all without permission. And no one is
permitted to leave because their knowledge could cause us harm. You
agreed to service the lair for your remaining years. You agreed to that
when you joined us, and it means you cannot leave.”
“And if I wish to fall to my death from the top of the mountain?”
I’mya said, trying her best to keep the sarcasm out of her voice and
failing.
“I wasn’t being smart-mouthed when I said that,” Dayatha said.
“Everything you see and learn here must remain confidential to the lair
—any disclosure of information to the outside will require your death
as payment, as does any breakage of our rules. That is why our
application process is so stringent. We make sure whoever joins is
prepared to stay and commit, to give up their old life. You were very
convincing when we interviewed you.”
“Why did you think that?”
Dayatha shrugged. “You thoroughly believed that it was your
purpose to be here.”
“And you interviewed me?”
“You wouldn’t have known you were being interviewed at the time,
I’mya. You would have spoken to a series of different people without
realizing they were us.”
I’mya raised her eyebrows. “So you saw me in my old life?”
“Yes.”
I’mya exhaled a breath in frustration. “Why don’t I remember this? It
feels strange to know that other people remember things about me—
what I’ve said and done—that I don’t.”
“I suspect that has something to do with magic,” Dayatha admitted.
“We use magic to dull the senses when we bring new people here, so
they don’t see exactly how to enter or exit.”
 “Dull the senses?”
Dayatha nodded. “That is what you saw in the corridor when the
other girls had no real sense of consciousness. You awakened earlier
than the others, but since you can wield magic, I suspect your memory
loss has something to do with that, though I am not certain.”
I’mya’s eyes drifted over the room as silence settled between them.
“Is there any way to find out?”
“No.”
“Using magic helped me remember my name,” I’mya began slowly,
recalling the rush of magic that embraced her when her memories
began to return. “So if I continue to use it—”
“It is against our rules for any servant to wield magic in here,”
Dayatha said firmly. “We do not accept magic users. If we had known
you were proficient in Thrakondarian when you applied, we would not
have accepted you.”
I’mya almost blurted out that she wasn’t proficient, but what was
the point in arguing about it. Maybe she had been. Maybe she had
chosen not to tell these people for a reason. Dayatha hadn’t mentioned
a child from I’mya’s old life. But a child had been part of her memories,
an important part of her life. She didn’t remember any elderly parents,
so why hadn’t she told them about the girl?
The important point right now was to figure out what to do next.
“And now that you’ve discovered I can speak this… language, you still
will not expel me from this place.” She paused. “Or… kill me?”
“We cannot do anything while we are in disagreement,” Dayatha
said stiffly. “But you can believe that you have been the subject of much
discussion already. Some stewards believe you are a threat to us, others
believe that magic can sometimes be latent and brought about in great
distress. Discussions are still ongoing.”
“And if you decide I am a threat or that I’ve willfully misled you?”
 Dayatha clasped her hands on the desk. “As I already explained, no
one can leave here, no matter the reason. You seem to have been
adversely affected by magic, which may not be your fault. Until we can
understand what happened or your intentions, we have no reason to
harm you.” She paused, staring at I’mya. “If you settle in here and do not
use your magic, there should be no problems. But we will do what we
have to in order to protect this lair. Do you remember nothing about
magic?”
I’mya shook her head. “I know it’s dangerous that’s all, but I don’t
know why.”
“Magic is one of the greatest threats to the Twin Realms, but only
because it has been misused. Many are taught to fear it.” Dayatha rose
from her seat. “But I’m sure you will hear about it from your new family
as you get to know each other,” she said briskly. “You are not to discuss
any of this with them. You panicked about being here in the lair, that’s
all that happened and all they need to know. We will discuss your
relationship and connection with magic another time.”
“But…” I’mya rose from her seat as well. “What if something
happens again?”
“Nothing should happen again,” Dayatha said sharply. “You cannot
use magic no matter how frightened or scared or emotional you are. Do
you understand? If you continue to use it, if you continue to make
yourself a threat here, we will have no choice but to remove you.”
I’mya stared at her; she understood the threat. “I don’t know how I
did it. How am I supposed to make sure that I don’t?”
“Don’t open your mouth and say words that are unfamiliar to you,”
Dayatha said dryly. “And follow the rules. If you follow the rules, there
will be nothing that will surprise you. Get used to your surroundings,
familiarize yourself with your companions, get comfortable, follow your
daily routine.” She paused, looking I’mya in the eye. “If you use magic
again, we will have to expel you. Do you understand?”
I’mya’s mouth tightened. Taking a breath, she nodded.
“Good,” Dayatha said, walking around the desk. “Your new group is
about to start their tour. Make sure you are with them.”

A steward called Tvesha led the tour. Dressed in a long grey cloak with
wavy hair pinned up atop her head, she seemed almost regal, as did her
slightly different accent.
“I will show you around the permitted area of the lair and answer
any questions you have,” Tvesha said after introducing herself. “We’ll
start on one of the upper levels. Follow me.”
The same four girls who had been in the corridor where I’mya
awoke were in the group on the tour. Along with the golden-haired girl,
Elora, and the one with the pretty, bright eyes—both girls omegas—
was another girl with freckles over her body, and a tall girl with
hunched shoulders.
“Why do we have to be naked when none of these older women are,”
muttered the tall girl.
I’mya grinned, relieved she wasn’t the only one who was
uncomfortable being naked.
“We have a very specific role here,” one of the other girls muttered
back. “It wouldn’t do for anything to be in the way when the master
wants to satiate his needs.”
There was a short, poignant silence during which I’mya silently
agreed with that assessment. If that giant man had been him, he much
preferred instant access from what she’d witnessed.
 “How bad do you think being with him will be?” the tall girl uttered.
“I can’t imagine it would be pleasant.”
The girl with bright eyes shook her head and lifted her shoulders. “I
tried asking the other girls when we were in the sleeping lounge, but no
one would tell me.” She worried her bottom lip between her teeth. “I’m
not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.”
“It’s a bad thing,” the girl with freckles muttered.
At that, a long silence descended.
“One of us will have to go first,” the tall girl said. “So we need to
make sure that we let each other know, so we can prepare.”
I’mya kept silent during the exchange. Even if she were to tell them
she’d already had an experience with a man who might be him, she
wouldn’t even know how to describe it.
Tvesha halted in a cavern area, waiting for them to gather. “I’m
afraid there is no way to prepare,” she said, a soft smile on her face.
The girls froze, glancing at each other guiltily.
“No matter how well the experiences are described by any of you,
nothing can prepare you for when you are actually with him.” Tvesha
chuckled at their expressions. “You haven’t yet learned how to speak
quietly when you are surrounded by stone.” She gestured to the
surrounding walls. “Sound travels well in the corridors here. You have
to whisper to be sure you are not heard, especially in connecting
corridors.”
“Are we really inside a mountain?” one of the girls asked.
Tvesha nodded. “The biggest mountain in the range. Some corridors
and rooms are natural, and some have been constructed.”
“Where the walls are smooth,” the bright-eyed girl suggested.
“Exactly. The mountain is big enough to sustain the community
here.”
 “What about all the big wall-openings that show the mountain
ranges?” I’mya asked. “They are in almost every room.”
“What about them?” Tvesha asked, tilting her head to one side.
“They are our windows. They provide us with natural light and some
cool breeze from the mountains. I can assure you if we had none of the
‘openings,’ it would be pitch black in here all the time with only
candlelight as our light source. It would not be very healthy.”
“But aren’t they dangerous?” I’mya said. “We could fall out or…
something could come in.”
Tvesha shot her a quizzical look. “That’s not possible. Of course we
advise you not to get too close to the apertures, but there is no danger
of falling out. There is a magical barrier covering each one. Nothing
solid can cross through, only sunlight and a little wind.”
I’mya stared back at her, her brows lowering. She was sure that the
opening she had been at when she saw the dragon didn’t have any kind
of protection on it—she’d felt the warmth of his fiery attack, and it had
scorched her. Plus the man had jumped through it.
The tour continued and Tvesha showed them a network of rooms
and corridors of places they could visit; a library, an eating lounge,
washrooms, a massage room, and several communal lounges for
various activities. In one of them, all the girls were stunned into silence
to see a woman on her knees, her face red, tears streaming down her
cheeks and saliva dripping from her chin, while a man fisted her hair,
keeping her head steady as he pushed his cock deep into her throat.
I’mya’s breath hitched at how vigorously he pumped his hips, the way
he rolled his head back, and groaned to the ceiling. Was that what the
giant man would have done with her if he’d had the chance? The
thought made her stomach turn and her nipples tingle. But the most
shocking thing about the scene before her was that there were others in
the room, quietly getting on with activities—painting or crafting. And
no one paid any mind to the woman slurping in the middle of the room.
Even Tvesha said nothing of it, explaining to them what the room
was for before moving on.
The golden-haired girl glanced at I’mya, her eyes wide, before
turning to follow the group.
I’mya lingered, watching the woman. Although she clung onto the
man’s thighs, her nails digging in his muscles, she was not resisting him.
It was there in her eyes as she stared up at him—the desire, the need,
the fierceness of her enjoyment. Interestingly though, the man was
bare-chested, pants gathered around his ankles. So clearly, he was not
naked.
I’mya walked quickly to catch up with the group. “Tvesha,” she
called when she reached them. “Are the kon’aya only female?”
A chuckle bounced off the stone and echoed back to her. “In this lair,
yes. But it is a profession that can be undertaken by any sex.”
“So there are men in the lair other than the… master?”
Tvesha slowed and turned. “Yes, but some areas are for females only.
This will be explained when you have your study sessions.”
I’mya kept pace with the group but her panic rose again. How many
men were they expected to serve? She didn’t bother to ask—it was
doubtful she’d be staying long enough to find out.
“If you are ever unsure whether you are straying into an area that
you’re not supposed to be in,” Tvesha said, slowing to a stop and
pointing at the nearest wall, “look to the walls and check they are a
solid slate grey. Forbidden areas have walls that glint with a slightly
different color or gemstones that indicate you are in the wrong place.”
She took them around their permitted areas twice before the tour
ended, which took all day. There were no stairs fashioned inside the
cave in the areas they were permitted in, but rather corridors that
sloped upward or downward. The mountain was enormous, much
bigger than I’mya had imagined when she’d felt it through magic. She
had no idea how she was going to find a way out.
Everything in the lair was in pristine condition, luxurious even.
Many items had been crafted in gold or silver, or set with sparkling
gemstones she didn’t recognize. Some were crafted from materials she
couldn’t identify. There were rooms for almost everything, and even a
“garden” that simulated a lush rainforest through the use of
incantations. As much as she thought of the dragorai as brutish, primal
animals, the standard of living within the lair had to be better than
royalty. She could certainly see why many would want to come here to
escape the effects of war.
The woman on her knees in the craft room wasn’t the only sexual
act I’mya witnessed. It was happening everywhere. Within the next
three rooms they visited, an entanglement of bodies met them—the
most ambitious being a group of five. One woman, her knees spread
wide, was being mounted from behind by a man, his slams jolting her
forward, while a woman lay on her back underneath the woman, her
weight on her elbows as her head disappeared between her legs.
Between the lower woman’s legs was another man, and in his ass
pumped yet another man. The wet slapping, moans and muffled hums
were all that filled the space. And again, everyone else in the room paid
them no attention, as if it was the most normal thing to be happening.
Each time I’mya saw it, she was reminded of the giant man and how
he’d made her feel. She couldn’t blame anyone for chasing that feeling;
it was exhilarating. And while she couldn’t imagine partaking in
anything like what she was seeing, she couldn’t judge them when she’d
already done something like it.
The only room in complete silence was the temple. It was the largest
room she’d seen in the mountain so far, with seven shrines arranged in
a semi-circle and an altar in the center of the space.
The girl with freckles clapped, grinning from ear to ear to see it,
while the tall girl seemed in awe.
“This is, of course, the prayer room of the Seven,” Tvesha said. “You
may visit this room at any time.”
“In our province, all the altars have been cracked in half,” the tall girl
murmured as she walked closer to the nearest shrine.
“The ember destroyed the ones nearest to me,” the girl with the
bright eyes said. “I haven’t visited one in years. We just used to pray in a
semicircle.”
“We very much honor the Goddesses here,” Tvesha said. “Everyone
is encouraged to visit the temple as often as they can, but we don’t force
it. Is there anyone who is against the Seven and their rule?”
No one replied, but I’mya noticed that Elora barely looked inside the
temple.
By the time they finished their tour, due to the heat of the lair and
their arduous walking, all them were sweating to some degree, so
Tvesha left them in one of the communal washroom where trickling
columns of water ran down from a ledge high up in the room. Each of
them grabbed a wash-pouch from a row by the wall and headed to one
of the trickling waterfalls.
I’mya held a finger under one of the streams, expecting it to be
bitterly cold, but it was quite warm. “I thought the water would be cold
up here in the mountains.”
“Each washroom has water coming from different parts of the
range,” Tvesha explained from the door. “This one is warm, but others
have cooler water if you prefer it.” She eyed the girls. “Your first task is
to find your way to the dining room from here. Stay together and don’t
get lost.”
 The girls nodded as she stalked away, her cloak swishing around
her.
“I’m so glad there is warm water!” one of the girls exclaimed,
stepping completely under the trickling water and sighing with relief as
it splashed over her body.
“There had to be,” chuckled the bright-eyed girl. “We are in the lair
of a dragorai don’t forget.”
The others nodded in agreement, laughing with her.
The golden-haired girl noticed that I’mya was still not yet under her
stream.
“What are you waiting for?” She gesturing to I’mya’s stream. “You
might as well wash all that sweat and grime off you. If you’re waiting for
privacy, it will never come.”
I’mya tentatively stepped forward until her body interrupted the
sleek stream of water. She released a long breath as her muscles
relaxed. In her wash-pouch was a bar of soap, a small vial of liquid, and
a dry cloth. She began to rub the herby-smelling soap over her skin,
grateful for the opportunity to rid herself of the sweat she’d built up.
“I’m Elora, by the way,” the golden-haired girl said. “What’s your
name?”
“I’mya.”
“And yours?” Elora asked the bright-eyed girl.
The girl was trying not to get her coily hair wet, and failing.
“Nureen,” she muttered, distracted.
Elora looked at the tall girl.
“Sybeia,” she responded. “Or Syb.”
“Tiiu,” the freckled girl said without waiting to be asked. I’mya
suddenly realized she wasn’t actually a girl at all, but a woman. She
looked older than the rest of them, though she was the shortest.
 “What happened between you and Dayatha when we first arrived?”
Syb asked I’mya.
“What do you mean?”
“She carried you into the sleeping lounge—you were unconscious.
Why?” There was a slight demand in her voice. “What happened?”
“No need to be rude,” Nureen said, her nose wrinkling.
“I want to make sure I am safe here, like they promised us,” Syb said
stiffly. “We are the newest recruits, and there are only five of us. If one
of us was knocked unconscious on our first day, the problem is either
with her or Dayatha… and I want to make sure we can trust Dayatha.
She is supposed to be looking after us now.” She eyed all of them. “It
should be a concern for all of us.”
The others’ demeanor changed as they glanced up at I’mya, and
Elora shot her an apologetic look. I’mya could understand their
concern, but while she didn’t trust Dayatha, there was no sense in
starting a panic. “As far as I’m aware, there’s nothing for you to be
concerned about,” she said.
“Then what happened?”
“I was ill,” I’mya said, somewhat forcibly. “The heat overwhelmed me
and I panicked.”
The girl stared at her for a long moment before turning back to
rinse herself off at the stream.
“You can only keep things to yourself so long,” she said when she
finished. “But if you want us to all be a close-knit team, you have to be
open and honest with us. And that means telling us what happened.”
She turned and stalked away from the streams, grabbing a towel.
The other woman, Tiiu, glanced at I’mya and Elora sheepishly. “She
is from the South,” she said quietly, as if that explained everything.
“Where are you from?” Elora asked, almost too brightly. “I’m from
the North.”
 “I’m from the South,” Tiiu said. “From one of the smallest provinces.”
“They say that the South is not as war-torn as the North.”
Tiiu made a face. “Actually, I suspect it’s worse,” Tiiu said as she
turned, then lowered her head so the stream of water splashed over the
back of her neck for a few long moments. “But the queen makes sure
each of the provinces uphold at least some of their beauty,” she said
when she raised her head again, “so that it looks as though the South is
surviving the war. And she also uses a lot of charms, which I understand
the king of the North doesn’t bother with.”
Elora shook her head. “No, it’s not that. We have a lot of ember. It’s
everywhere.”
“I would hate that. Where I come from isn’t great at all, but at least I
didn’t have to deal with ember.”
“We can’t not deal with it. It’s a constant threat.”
“For us too,” Tiiu said insisted, scowling. “The queen actually tried to
weaponize it! Can you believe that? She is hailed as the smartest,
bravest omega who ever lived, to hear her minions talk about her, but
she’s obviously not smart enough to not meddle with ember. It caused
more damage than if she’d just left it alone.”
Tiiu froze after her outburst, as did Syb in the corner. They both
glanced around the room, then Tiiu slowly relaxed.
“It’s strange to be able to talk openly about her without any…
consequences,” she breathed.
Elora nodded, her expression sober. “The king has his spies and
torturers too… but I hear the queen is worse.”
“How about we just don’t talk about them at all?” Syb growled from
the corner of the room. “We have a new life now. There’s no need to talk
about the king or queen or their fucking war.”
The other girls nodded, Tiiu gratefully, Nureen and Elora somewhat
reluctantly. Once they’d finished washing and toweling themselves dry,
they stepped back out into the corridor.
“I think the dining room is this way,” Nureen said, pointing to the
left.
Syb and Elora agreed. They made their way down the corridor, but
the mood between them had sobered.
“How much about the North do you know?” I’mya asked Elora
quietly.
“I lived there all my life,” she said wryly. “Didn’t you?” Without
waiting for an answer, she beckoned Nureen closer to them. “I know the
Southern girls don’t want to talk about the war,” she said to them both,
“but I’m happy to talk about it if the two of you want to. I know it was
traumatizing and horrible, but it’s the one thing we all share. And I
don’t ever want to forget why I’m grateful to be here.”
I’mya kept quiet as Nureen and Elora talked while they made their
way through the corridors. She needed someone from the North to tell
her about the place that had been her home, if only so she didn’t seem
out of place. But she didn’t know who she could trust. Both Elora and
Nureen seemed nice, but it would be a risk to trust someone she’d only
known for a few hours.
In the dining hall, long redwood tables with matching benches filled
the space, and an incredible feast had been laid atop of each table.
People had already gathered, clothed and unclothed, and lively
chatter filled the room as they ate. The girls, led by Syb, chose an
unattended table and piled their plates high with everything they could
reach.
And what a meal it was! Even without all her memory, I’mya knew
she couldn’t have ever feasted as well as this. Whole roasted fowls,
salted fish, pickled eggs, mashed and roasted roots accompanied thick
gravies, slabs of cheese, and hunks of soft bread. Among these, sweet
treats like sugared nuts, fruit jellies, assorted cakes, and black custard
were laid out, causing the group to refill their boards multiple times.
No one spoke while they ate—completely engrossed with eating as
much as possible.
I’mya had no idea she was so hungry until she sat down, but then
set a goal to test every single plate. Eventually, as she ate her fill, she
slowed refilling her board. She was contemplating whether she could
survive just one more honey cake when she glanced up and saw the
same expression on the other girls’ faces. Elora and Tiiu caught her eye
and they all laughed. Even Syb cracked a smile.
Tiiu got up and poured them all wine from a bottle on the table. “It
seems we all forgot we need to drink too.”
They laughed again.
“I don’t remember the last time I ate anything other than moldy
bread,” Nureen sighed, after savoring a mouthful of wine.
“My last meal was about three days before I came here,” Syb
murmured.
“I’m so glad to be here,” Elora said quietly. “But I think about all the
people I left behind and…” She swallowed, brushing tears from her
cheeks.
Silence fell over the group, and I’mya watched each of the girls
retreat to their memories, haunted expressions on their faces. After a
long moment, Tiiu began to sob, and Nureen rubbed her arm to comfort
her, wiping tears from her own cheeks.
Clearly life outside the mountain was horrible, and I’mya suddenly
wondered if it was smart to try to leave when she didn’t know what she
would be heading out to. If she did find a way, she would be choosing to
go back to the life they had all escaped from—a life they clearly found
unbearable. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that her presence in the
lair was wrong—and she couldn’t shake the memory of the young girl.
She needed to find out more. The memories she’d managed to recall
this morning weren’t enough. She needed to remember everything.

Over the next few days, the group explored their permitted area within
the lair, familiarizing themselves with it until they had an idea where
everything was. They’d also had an opportunity to meet the other, more
experienced kon’ayas. The other women seemed nice and offered to
talk once they’d all had their turn with the master. A couple of the girls
in I’mya’s group made sure they visited the temple every day, while
others were more interested in taking up an activity they’d never tried
before.
I’mya spent most of her time examining the edges of their permitted
space, seeing if there was anything she recognized or could see as a way
out. During the time she had been running wildly from Dayatha with
magic in her face, there was a moment when she recognized where she
was. If she had never been in the lair before, and no one ever left the
mountain alive, how could she recognize anything? Yet she’d felt sure
she knew where she was going.
Questions continued to pile up that she couldn’t answer. For
example, why she knew each of the Seven Goddesses names but not the
ritual to pray to them. She managed to avoid making her lack of
knowledge about the North too apparent, but she was sure it wouldn’t
be long before Elora became suspicious.
One evening as they headed back to the sleeping room, Nureen
asked, “Did you two know each other before you came here?”
When I’mya and Elora shook their heads, she raised her brows. “Oh!
I thought…” She glanced up to I’mya’s nook. “I thought I saw you in the
same nook together.”
 “Oh.” Elora glanced at I’mya sheepishly. “I was in your nook the first
day we came here. Sorry. You were unconscious, and I was trying to see
if they’d done something to you.”
Nureen laughed and began climbing up. “No, my mistake. I should
mind my own business.”
“What did you think they’d done?” I’mya asked Elora as they
climbed up higher to their nooks. “Do you have experience with medical
conditions?”
Elora shook her head. “I saw a lot of dead and almost dead bodies
back home,” she explained. “I just wanted to see how bad you were—if
you had any bruises or injuries.” She shrugged. “If they’d done
something to you, then….”
I’mya settled herself at the edge of her nook, her legs dangling over,
silently finishing Elora’s sentence. “Safety is really important to all of
you,” she muttered, watching Syb below glancing around the room
before climbing into bed.
“Of course, it’s the main benefit about this place.” Elora shifted to sit
on the edge of her nook. “Syb was right about that. The North is a no
place for anyone to live.”
I’mya shot her look. “Worse than being a sex slave?”
Elora frowned, turning to her in disbelief. “That’s not what we are.”
“No?”
“No,” Elora said firmly. “kon’aya are treasured by Thrakonds. It’s an
ancient service that only a few were chosen for. kon’aya are considered
to be very special to the dragorai clans in particular, especially the
unmated.”
“You know a lot about it.”
Elora shot her a strange look. “Everyone knows about this position.
It’s part of the history of the Twin Realms and the Seven. Everyone is
desperate to secure the role.”
 “To get away from the war.”
“Exactly.”
A loud ringing bell interrupted I’mya thoughts.
The atmosphere in the room became suddenly alert. Voices
quietened, and those who had been lying down sat up, looking toward
the door, as though they were waiting for something.
Below, Syb and Tiiu moved to stand near each other, and Nureen,
who was in a nook in the row below I’mya and Elora knelt at the edge of
her nook, looking down over the room.
Elora drew a sharp breath in.
“What is it?” I’mya asked, alarmed.
“That has to be the bell Tvesha talked about,” she said in a hushed
tone. “The bell for the master.” She glanced at I’mya, uneasy. “He is in
need of one of us now.”
Before I’mya could even make sense of what she said, she saw
Dayatha enter their room and head straight for their wall.
I’mya’s heart pounded in her throat as she watched her navigate
through the room.
Dayatha’s eyes were bright, her face determined, and her stance
suggested she would not be debated with. “I’mya.” She stopped at the
wall, looking up. “You are first.”
 4

“Q uickly, quickly.” Dayatha hurried ahead, leading I’mya out of the

sleeping lounge.
“Why do I have to go first?” I’mya said, panic clawing at her chest as
the resounding chime of the bell faded in her ears. “Why aren’t you
choosing someone else? At least until I get used to being here.”
Dayatha shook her head. “Newcomers are always offered first,” she
explained. “It helps to eliminate lingering anticipation and stress once
one has been through it.”
“Have you been through it?” I’mya snapped. “Have you even done
any of the things that you are expecting all of us to do?”
“Not all of us are kon’aya,” Dayatha said nonchalantly. “We all have
our role to play here; this is yours.”
I’mya was silent for a moment, almost running to keep up with
Dayatha as she sped along the corridor and turned into another that
sloped upward. “I’m not ready!”
“You are lucky he’s been hunting for the last few days,” Dayatha said
darkly. “Some kon’ayas see him the day they arrive.”
I’mya probably had seen him the day she arrived, but she didn’t say
that. “Why do I have to go first? Why can’t one of the other girls go?”
 Dayatha shot her a side glance. “You are the one who provides the
highest risk.”
“What do you mean?” I’mya said, struggling to keep up. “Because of
the magic?”
Dayatha spun around abruptly and grabbed I’mya by her shoulders.
“Master does not know that any kon’aya has exhibited signs of magical
ability, so you have a choice. If you choose to display that in front of
him, he will deal with it accordingly.”
I’mya frowned. “What does that mean? Will he… hurt me?”
“I don’t know what he will do,” Dayatha said. “That’s why we want to
get you out of the way first.” She turned on her heel and began walking
again, I’mya staring after her. So she was throwing her into the deep
end with an animal of a man. “Why don’t you just tell him, then?” she
said, hurrying to keep up. “So he knows what might happen?”
Dayatha chuckled, her voice echoing against the craggy walls.
“Master is skilled at dealing with problems as they arise,” she said
wryly. “He does not need to be forewarned of anything like this.
Recently he was even asking about unexpected or unusual new recruits.
I hadn’t told the rest of stewards about you yet at the time, so the head
steward didn’t know. We decided to see if you can settle here before we
say anything. And that is part of the reason you are going first. In any
case, Master never makes adjustments—it is you who must adjust to
him. You are the kon’aya, he does not serve you.”
“So I’m rushing in there without any preparation at all,” I’mya shot
back, bitterness entering her tone. Dayatha said nothing for a long
moment, winding up through a smaller corridor before reaching
another large one. The air was different up here… dry, but with a cool
breeze that swept along the walls.
Dayatha turned left and walked along until they reached a set of
double doors.
 “Inside you will see a small ledge next to one of the walls. It looks
like a table,” she said in a hushed voice, turning to I’mya. “You are to
bend over it, stomach down, and remain there. There are two handles
that stick up out on the table that provide support if things become
too… overwhelming.”
“What does that mean?” I’mya said, panicked.
“Do not linger when you enter his chambers,” Dayatha said, ignoring
her. “Head straight to the table and position yourself—make sure you
are there waiting when Master arrives. Make sure your knees are
spread wider than your hips. Now, be aware—he may not approach you
at all. You are simply an offer of pleasure for him if he chooses it.”
Annoyance sparked in I’mya. “What? So I’ll just be lying there
spread out, just in case?”
“Yes!” Dayatha’s cool attitude snapped, and for a moment a flash of
anger burst through her cool exterior. “That is your job!” She stilled,
closing her eyes as she forced her shoulders down. Opening her eyes,
she said, “It is better for you to get this is over with. It only need be once
for now; a different girl will go in next time. And he may not be
interested in having you at all. His appetite has waned of late.” She
paused. “Do you remember ever having sex before?”
I’mya swallowed, her throat fluttering as horror clogged every pore.
She was asking her if she was a virgin. Her answer came out hoarse.
“No, I don’t recall.”
Dayatha nodded, her face grim. “Use the handles.”
I’mya’s throat was so tight, she could barely get the words out. “And
how will I know when I’m dismissed?”
“You will know,” Dayatha said. “When you are released, someone
will escort you back to your area. You are permitted to use the
washrooms before you return to the sleeping lounge.”
 I’mya nodded, although she was disturbed by the sudden concern in
Dayatha’s eyes.
“In you go,” she said.
I’mya took a deep breath and pushed open the doors.
Inside was brighter than she’d imagined. The evening sun flooded
the room with red-tinged golden rays from an enormous aperture along
one side of the room. It offered a view of yet another, different part of
the range than I’mya had seen previously.
The room was enormous. A huge bed filled out the main space while
the rest of the room was furnished with the most quality pieces. Various
archways leading to smaller spaces and even a washroom made the
space seem like a mini-residence. A large desk made of gold-laced bark
and a wide wardrobe made of crisp wood were against the walls, and
other small chests and items were positioned around the floor.
Everything was decorated with gold, gems, or other precious metals
and stones, indicating the high quality of the furnishings. As she padded
in, she stepped on thick rugs spread across the length of the room,
tightly woven and intricately patterned. Another door was positioned at
the other end of the room, and clearly it was the door for the master
because it was patterned with a crafted frame.
I’mya walked around the chambers examining everything. Dayatha
may have given her orders to follow, but she was not going to lose an
opportunity to explore and learn. The room was spectacular. The
craftmanship that went into the fine details and intricacies of the
decorations, the quality of the tightly woven bedsheets on the bed that
looked like it had never been slept in, and the clothes in the wardrobe
of the finest silk and cotton, clothes that had to belong to the master.
With high ceilings and smooth walls, the room was the picture of
wealth.
 I’mya looked around in wonder. There was no doubt that the
dragorai were wealthy; although, she didn’t automatically assume that
when she’d recalled them. Based on the wealth spent on the
decorations in the servant area, it made sense that the master’s
chambers would be drenched in riches. She was surprised there wasn’t
a stack of golden coin in the center of the room.
She made her way to the opening, or the windows as Tvesha called
it. This view of the mountain range was spectacular. Mountain peaks
spread far and wide into the distance, and somewhere in that distance,
a dragon soared, its black silhouette clear against the blue sky. I’mya
frowned as she spotted another dragon far to the left, and an unease
stirred in her stomach.
How many were there? And would they all attempt to attack the
mountain like the one a few days ago had? For all her insistence that
they were safe, Dayatha had practically agreed that everything I’mya
said about them could be true.
Peering down, she saw sections of rock under the window jutted
out into a wide, long ledge. The rock created a path of ledges that led
down from the opening, starting with one that was within easy reach
from the edge of the window. She squinted and twisted her head in an
attempt to see all the way down the mountain. It was steep and
extremely jagged, but that didn’t mean it was impossible to climb down
to safely. Still, she had to be smart about it. She had an inkling that this
wasn’t the best way to leave the mountain.
Holding up her hand, she pressed her palm toward the opening of
the window, and sure enough, as Tvesha had said, a light tingle bubbled
on her hand, and a ripple of magic flared across the entire opening but
her hand went right through it, so that was pointless.
A sound out in the corridor jolted her out of her reflection, and she
froze for moment before searching for the table where she was
supposed to be laid out on. She had to be in position when he entered!
Looking around wildly, she saw the table that Dayatha had referred
to. Squat and shaped like a box, it was just the right height to lay her
torso on while she knelt. She carefully positioned herself so that her
thighs pressed firmly along the side. The table was somewhat cooler
than the temperature in the rest of the lair, and she relaxed onto it,
releasing a sigh of relief. Further along the table were the two handles
Dayatha had referred to. They were shaped as cones and just within
arm’s reach for her grab if she needed to.
Anticipation of seeing the giant man again kept I’mya tense, every
sense extending as far as it could. What if he was the dragorai? What if
he wasn’t? She wasn’t sure which thought frightened her more. She was
waiting for a change in her environment but nothing came.
She relaxed onto the table, pressing her cheek into the cool wood.
Maybe he wasn’t coming, maybe he had other, better things to do.
Just as the thought crossed her mind, the main door opened.
I’mya held her breath, her heart beating so wildly, she could feel it
underneath the table. Whoever came in was heavy, their footsteps
clunking around the room as they moved about.
Curiosity almost made I’mya peek behind her, but she forced herself
not to. Looking at him may indeed frighten her enough to simply run
out of the room, and that would be unacceptable. She would never be
able to escape Dayatha, and the woman would surely make her pay in
one way or another.
The footsteps behind her abruptly stopped for a long moment,
replaced by the shuffling of bedsheets.
Maybe he was going to sleep?
She quietly sighed in relief. Maybe he was too tired to make use of
her?
 As she was considering what to do next, a familiar scent swept over
her and her stomach dropped. It was him. The giant who had tortured
her was in the room. Warm and enticing, his scent comforted her,
soothing the tension from her body and allowing her to relax
completely on the table. Unable to help herself, she breathed in a deep
breath, sighing as she released it. That scent was probably the best
thing about the lair that she’d discovered so far.
A fluttering began in her stomach and a sudden tickle started
between her legs. Horrified, she closed her legs as slick began to gather
and trickle down her thighs.
She wondered if she should just get up and leave. The master was
not going to make use of her—he was probably sleeping. Surely she
wasn’t supposed to wait around until he woke? That could be hours
from now.
Before she had time to consider what to do, the sounds started
again behind her. Shuffling, and then footsteps. To her horror, they were
heading directly toward her.
A gruff grunt rumbled behind her, and tension sparked throughout
her body at the sound, but she was too relaxed, too soothed by the scent
to return to the tense state she had been when she first laid down. The
man behind her made another rumble that twisted the inside of her
stomach, and at the same time an enormous hand gripped the back of
her hair. His fingers scraped along her scalp into a fist that lifted her
head off the table, turned her head to the other side and pushed it back
down. As her cheek slammed onto the stone, she tried to look at him
out of the corner of her eye as he pinned her head down and leaned
over her.
“’et don la!” He face was twisted in rage. “si zidakhe gi tas pe kve! si
may si dvak pem dashuse stodakh pe ’et.”
 I’mya awaited for the echo but it never came. She stared at the man,
wondering how much he was going to make her suffer this time—and
deep down, if he was going to pleasure her again. As much as she hated
what she went through, the pleasure peak was truly beyond anything
she’d ever experienced, not that she remembered if she had. But
constantly surrounded by rutting bodies around the lair had made her
more aware and agitated.
His furious eyes flitted over her body again, and she couldn’t help
the clench in her core as she watched that fury transmute to hunger.
“I’m not supposed to be here,” she said slowly. “Please, just release
me from your service and I will leave.”
“’et kla si m sigakh de pebel kveme ma dvakal botzen meze?” The
man’s brow arched.
I’mya shook her head. “I don’t understand you.”
“kev, zmukh ’et mesh si ukes kmeyes as kla tzomkikh shaf bos,” the
man said, annoyance in his tone. “makh ls gi kod, bnum siv.”
I’mya stared at him, bewildered by his words. Was he going to let
her go or not? It wasn’t clear whether he could understand her, and if
he did, he should know that she didn’t understand. A low, gruff mumble
of words reached her ears just before the magic in the air began to stir
again. The table she lay on rose up sharply, and she squealed in
surprise, grabbing onto the handles to make sure she didn’t fall. The
table was now hovering in the air, and her feet dangled, only her toes
grazing the floor.
She remained still, choosing to wait and see what he would do.
Extending her awareness, she listened for anything that would give any
clue as to what was coming. Magic was fresh and thick in the air as
usual, but that just made her even more wary of how he was going to
use it.
 After a long moment, a string of rhythmic words left his lips and
dread gripped her chest. He was casting an incantation. I’mya held her
breath, waiting to see what the consequences would be, and within a
few moments, icy cold tendrils began to thread along her spine, from
the very bottom, all the way into her neck. She shivered as it nestled
into her bone, vibrating gently, waiting for instruction.
“gih ’et don la, si kla dvay gimnef eni ko’ dvay abnurakh, ’et nu
bnum?” This time, the echo appeared a few seconds after he spoke each
word. “Since you are here, I think we should finish what we started,
don’t you?”
I’mya gritted her teeth. He was planning to hurt her again. She had
hoped he wouldn’t, but she also knew he was a maniac. The cold
tendrils running along her spine burrowed deeper into her bone,
vibrating as it did. A smattering of sharp discomfort traveled along her
back and down her limbs, but it wasn’t too unbearable just yet.
I’mya desperately tried to think how to fight him back using magic.
If she had managed to create a shield before, then she should be able to
again. But she couldn’t remember the words she’d used. They just
appeared out of nowhere when she thought she was being burned to
death.
Suddenly the pressure on her spine increased tenfold, and she
gasped at the uncomfortable ache in her back.
The alpha uttered a single word and her spine curved as the magic
lurched upward, pulling her with it. She rose off the table, her arms and
legs dangling as the magic lifted her spine upward.
Agony shot through her, as if her spine was being ripped from her
back. I’mya gritted her teeth, refusing to cry out and give him the
satisfaction of her screams. She still remembered his amusement the
last time she screamed, and she refused to give him that again. But as
she rose into the air, she was distracted by warm, wet lapping on her
inner thigh. She tried to twist, to see what he was doing, but her spine
spasmed, so she dropped her head and looked between her legs. The
dragorai was there, licking and sucking the wetness on her thighs. She
stared in shock, mostly amazed at the enraptured look on his face.
There was no doubt he was enjoying himself, and that was… well,
highly arousing. The sight of him only made her slick run faster, but he
wasn’t complaining as it pooled around his skillful tongue. I’mya’s core
clenched, eager for him to turn his attention between her legs, but she
was distracted by the pain still ricocheting up her spine.
“Please,” she whispered.
Before she could say anything further, he traveled upward, lapping
across her slit to the other thigh.
I’mya whimpered, wriggling again even though she knew it would
cause pain to spiral over her body. The dragorai took his time, leisurely
licking as though he had all the time in the world.
When she almost couldn’t take anymore, he returned to her center,
slipping his tongue in to cradle and caress that little bundle. I’mya
exhaled deeply and focused all her attention into the feeling of his
tongue, relief and pleasure expanding against the pain. She watched his
muscled chest as he pleasured her, and the bulge in his pants told her
that he was not going to remain satisfied with this action for long.
But soon, everything fell away except the jumble of pleasure
building within her, clawing to a crescendo that she desperately needed
to escape the pain. She reveled in the feeling, tilting her hips for more,
absorbing every sound, every feel, every touch of the dragorai as he
brought her higher, taking her to the peak of ecstasy thundering around
her whole body until she was gasping, pleading for her release. When
his fingers grazed her nipple, she shattered, tensing every muscle as she
screamed, swept up in the rapture that claimed her.
 By the time the frenzy abated, the pain had almost gone and she was
limp, her limbs swinging in the air..
“You said you didn’t belong here, but you are a new kon’aya.” His
voice was grave, but not yet threatening. “You lied.”
I’mya said nothing. What could she say? She knew she didn’t belong
here but she couldn’t tell him that, nor she could she explain what she
had been doing in that part of the lair. If he wanted to punish her for
lying, he could. She wasn’t sure she expected to leave this room alive
anyway.
“I told you to remain where you were and you left,” he said, his voice
deepening in displeasure. “I spent the last five days looking for you.
Your deception is unacceptable.”
I’mya’s breath hitched. He had been looking for her? Why? He had a
new influx of kon’ayas—he didn’t need to find a particular one to satisfy
his needs.
The dragorai rose to his feet and I’mya stilled, her breath shallow as
she waited for what was next. But instead of unbuckling himself, his
large hand rubbed the roundness of her bottom, caressing both cheeks
and squeezing them before coming down heavy, delivering a hard,
sharp slap on the roundest part.
I’mya gasped, jerking at the shock of the sting, but nothing could
compare to the shuddering agony it caused along her spine as the
magic in her jostled. It was as though her spine was splintering and
breaking apart. Before she had time to scream, another slap came. And
another, and another. Until she was shrieking in agony. So this was why
he was looking for her—to inflict more pain.
I’mya reacted without even thinking. She kicked out, her heel
catching the dragorai in his stomach area, possibly in his groin.
He stumbled back, a roar powering from his lips.
 “You are a coward!” I’mya raged, her fists tight as she thrashed her
arms and legs, causing an incredible amount of pain in her back. But
she didn’t care. She would rather knowingly inflict the pain on herself
than be at his mercy. “It’s easy to torture someone when you have them
tied up or pinned down with magic!”
A moment of silence followed. Then he began chanting and the
magic in her back tilted her upright before fading, melting into a
soothing sensation on her back. I’mya stopped thrashing, trying to catch
her breath as her spine was massaged. She still hovered in the air, magic
holding her up as it did before, with her back to him, but she didn’t dare
turn to look at him in case the pain in her back returned.
The dragorai’s laughter filled the room. “You believe you can fight
me?” The amusement in his tone made her scowl. “You believe that the
only reason you haven’t overpowered me is because I’ve used magic?”
He walked round to face her. “I knew you were a fireball, but I had no
idea you’d also be so stupidly brave to suggest—”
As he saw her, his face dropped, his expression hardening. He
grabbed her neck, pulling her closer so that as she hovered, her face
was close to his. I’mya was reminded of just how handsome he actually
was. His beard had grown a little, but that only made him look slightly
more rugged.
It couldn’t be right that one man could be so magically skilled, so
wealthy, meet all the criteria for a powerful alpha and have such good
looks. No wonder he was so unbelievably arrogant.
He brushed his thumb across her cheek, wetting it with her angry
tears, before peering at it. He looked back at her, his voice a low, deep
growl. “This does not please me.”
I’mya’s mouth tightened, anger flaring that he would make such a
declaration about her tears when he was the one who caused them. But
she refused to say anything.
 His eyes softened on her face, and he was still for a long moment as
he examined her. I’mya avoided his gaze and tried not to inhale. His
incredible scent overwhelmed her when he was close, but of course, she
couldn’t simply stop breathing.
The dragorai finally spoke, removing his hand from her neck and
wrapping a thick arm around her lower half to pull her to his body. “It is
easy to forget how delicate you are.” His words came back as an echo.
I’mya blinked. Was that an apology? Or maybe… regret? Surely not.
“Even so,” he continued, “you will not weep in my presence again. I
forbid it.”
There it was. That total rage-inducing arrogance. But he wasn’t
finished.
“And since you believe magic provides me an unfair advantage in
our… encounters—” He had the audacity to chuckle. “—let us see if you
can overpower me without it.”
Overpower him? That hadn’t been what she’d meant, but if the
result was that he stopped torturing her, she wasn’t going to complain.
Of course, his intention could be to use other means to torment her. She
didn’t trust him to not inflict pain whenever he could—he enjoyed it too
much.
As his scent became irresistible and exhaustion set in, she relaxed in
his arms and lay her head on his chest, closing her eyes and breathing
in deeply.
The dragorai stiffened, but said nothing.
They stayed in that position for so long, that I’mya lost track of time.
The drowsy peace of sleep ebbed over her, promising to drag her into a
vast depth of tranquility. But just as she was about to succumb to it, she
stopped herself. It wasn’t wise to leave herself vulnerable when in the
presence of such a monster.
 When she opened her eyes, she found he was still looking at her, the
gaze in his eyes strange; part smugness, part curiosity, and a tinge of
something else she couldn’t quite determine. She looked away,
unprepared for the close examination and the odd twist in her stomach.
Swallowing, she steadied her nerves and looked back at him. “Am I…
dismissed?”
The dragorai’s face slacked in surprise. He growled, turning swiftly
and walking across the room. “You are smarter than I gave you credit
for,” he muttered as he sat on the bed.
He straddled her on his lap, the tops of her feet resting on the bed,
calves folded under her thighs as she sat on this thick legs. “You are not
a kon’aya,” he stated firmly. “I don’t know how you fooled my stewards,
but I’m impressed. That is a feat in itself.”
I’mya’s heart began to race. How did he know?
“You do not possess the traits of what is typical for one.” He leaned
forward, brushing his nose against hers. “I will find out all of your
secrets eventually, tiny fireball. I will take great pleasure in discovering
everything about you as time permits—and we have plenty of time. But
in the meanwhile”—he leaned back slightly—”you will prove your
worth on my cock.”
I’mya stared at him, equally disgusted and terrified about what he
just said. He had guessed that she was different and was intent on
finding out everything about her—things she didn’t know herself. What
if he asked Dayatha to give him information? Dayatha certainly knew
things I’mya didn’t, information about her old life that she wouldn’t
share. Was it worth trying to persuade the dragorai to help her recall
her memories? But even as the thought came to her, she dismissed it.
She would never trust him. He was a self-serving dragorai with no
reason to help her, and he would likely kill her once he got bored.
 At the thought of the other kon’ayas, I’mya wondered how many had
“left” the lair? How often did they recruit and why did they have to?
Was it because previous women had hated being in the lair due to the
dragorai’s actions? He was clearly a man who enjoyed torture—did he
permanently damage or kill the women who didn’t do what he
demanded? She made a note to remember to ask one of the other girls.
If she couldn’t find a way out, she wasn’t sure she could survive him.
The man enjoyed bestowing pleasure and pain as though it was his
right.
As her mind raced, he used one hand to unbuckle and release
himself from his pants, and all thoughts fled as I’mya’s eyes landed on
his length. Thick, long, and bulbous, it jutted up, a drip of fluid trickling
down its tip.
I’mya glanced up at the dragorai. He looked at her expectantly, as if
she was supposed to be doing something, but Dayatha did not prepare
her for this. She was only supposed to lie on the table and everything
else should be simple.
I’mya turned to look out of the window at the velvety night sky, but
the dragorai grabbed her jaw and dragged her face back to his.
“I know you don’t understand me or my language yet,” he said
slowly. “You will in time. But the first thing you must learn is that when
I want to fuck, we fuck.”
If he didn’t have hold of her jaw, I’mya’s mouth would have dropped
open. She expected him to be crude and demanding, but he just
revealed he wasn’t aware she could understand him? All this time she
had assumed he’d been manipulating the magic in the air so she could
understand his speech, but clearly that wasn’t the case. Somehow, his
speech was being translated to her without him knowing it.
Before she had time to ponder on any of it, the dragorai’s other
hand scooped her up by her bottom and pulled her forward, pressing
her slit against his thickness. It felt just as hard as it looked, though its
ridges sent shivers through her as it rubbed against her folds.
The dragorai pulled her face forward until her lips almost touched
his. “Kiss me.”
I’mya wrenched her head away, growling in annoyance she had even
kissed him before. That wasn’t supposed to have happened.
The dragorai laughed, obviously delighted by her reaction, which
confused I’mya immensely.
Grabbing her hips, he rolled her up and down his length, caressing
her bundle of pleasure with the ridges on his length until the hunger for
more spread up her core and gripped her. At some point, she took over.
Breathing heavily as she gyrated against him, her nipples were hard
and her slick was flowing.
“Your slick is deliciously scented,” he muttered. But he wasn’t even
looking at her, he was looking between them, and I’mya was
embarrassed by how much slick she was producing. It lathered his
cock, drenched his pants and even his tunic.
But she couldn’t stop. Planting her feet on each side of him, she
grabbed his shoulders as she moved faster. The dragorai groaned as he
watched her, his hand reaching up to squeeze her breasts, her stomach,
her thighs, and the pockets of fat around her waist. It only added to her
arousal.
Suddenly his cock moved, its head breeching her entrance. I’mya
froze, registering the prickles of discomfort, but it was already too late.
She lowered onto it slowly, hissing at the sharp pain of the stretch from
his girth. When she stopped, the dragorai leaned forward and captured
a nipple in his mouth, flicking it with his tongue until it zinged pleasure
around her body. When he moved to her other breast, I’mya sighed,
lowering herself farther down on him until he completely filled her.
 There was something strangely primal about being impaled so
deeply. I’mya slowly worked up and down his length, absorbing both
the pain of the stretch and the carnal hunger that each stroke invoked.
The dragorai straightened and watched her as she began to ride him
in earnest, her hips working to a rhythm that heightened the stormy,
jagged pleasure shooting through her core. I’mya moaned as the feeling
overwhelmed her, the depth, the stretch, the scent of him—all of it was
so visceral, so raw and so erotic that she couldn’t help but cling on to
the sensations.
As she built up speed, the dragorai growled into her ear and
grabbed her ass, pulling her down on him harder, rougher, and with
each slam the pleasure sharpened with a tinge of accompanying pain.
I’mya gasped, smothered with the intensity of it. How could anything be
this good, this powerful? Interlocking her fingers behind his neck, she
sought more, slammed herself down onto him until the sloppy, frantic
slaps of their coupling, his grunts, and her whimpers were all she could
hear.
The bliss of it swept all thoughts from her mind. In that moment,
she did not know who or where she was—the only thing she knew was
pleasure.
A crescendo rose similar to what she experienced before, except this
one was mercilessly violent. Her toes curled, her fingers dug into the
back of his neck, her breath hitched, her whole body trembled. When
the peak finally claimed her, searing through every nerve in her body,
she convulsed on the dragorai’s cock, slamming herself down
erratically as she cried out, wild and out of control.
Panting, I’mya slumped forward, resting on the dragorai’s chest as
his hand on her ass continued to work her on his cock. I’mya shivered
and twitched as the feel of her climax lengthened, each continued
stroke sending throbbing beams of devastation through her.
 When he found his release, he wrapped his arms around her waist
and pummeled erratically into her, his lips finding her nipple again to
bite down on. I’mya cried out, but it was with relish. His animalistic
hunger sent goosebumps scattering all over her skin and she reveled it.
With his last slam, the large bulbous base of his cock forced itself
into her tight channel, and they both stilled. The dragorai breathed
heavily, his teeth still around her nipple as they basked in being locked
together so intimately.
The stretch was incredible. It was as if the bliss of her climax had
muted and elongated into an abyss of peace. All she wanted to do was
relax into the sensation. She settled onto the dragorai’s chest to do just
that, but as she did memories arose once again, snapping through her
mind in a quick instant.

“You think you’re the only one who suffered!” The curly-haired man
looked furious. “There is an entire realm out there suffering.” A surge of
defiance rose in her.
“I know that better than you,” she spat. “You sit in here and hide while
people die out there. Do not lecture me on suffering!”
The dark-haired man paused his pacing, turning to her, his eyes
vicious. “You have no idea what true suffering is.”
Running through the city, out of breath, dodging explosions that
turned air into black rock. Voices screamed at her from the far right, but
they didn’t understand. If they weren’t careful, they’d lead the soldiers
straight to the faction’s home base.
Lying on soiled bedding in the secured corner tucked into an alleyway
that sat between two buildings, the two of them tried to get comfortable.
“Do you think they’ll find us?” I’yala asked. I’mya smiled back at her,
trying to hide the worry she felt. “They won’t.” She said that with such
determination that the girl nodded and smiled, relaxing into her arms as
she closed her eyes to sleep. I’mya watched her, staying awake until I’yala
drifted off and then she kept her eyes open for when the soldiers entered
the alleyway. They would most certainly do so in the next few minutes,
and when they did, it was either kill or be killed.

The memories faded, but the strong feelings that accompanied them
faded slower. I’mya opened her eyes as she examined the emotions.
Fear, determination, anger, worry, indignation, and dedication. These
memories were proving to be more confusing than before. Was the man
with black curls friend or foe? What was her affiliation with him? How
old were some of these memories? And the girl.. why did she lie to her?
I’mya needed more.
Too late she realized the dragorai was watching her. Pulling her
attention back to her situation, she peered between them, examining
what had happened. The answer fell into her mind as she looked at her
body flush with his. He had knotted her. That was what caused the
divine stretch that still soothed and settled her. She reached down to
touch their joining, but the dragorai grabbed her hand, holding her gaze
as he slowly drew her fingers up to his lips.
The fieriness in his eyes as he sucked on her fingers made her
shiver, and she watched him, mesmerized.
Their gaze held until he pulled her forward until their lips were
close again. Then he waited.
He wanted her to kiss him again.
I’mya almost snorted. She wasn’t going to be as foolish as that again.
Instead, she lowered her face and slowly rubbed her nose and cheeks
over his rough beard. He broke into a low chuckle at her evasion, and
she hid her face so he wouldn’t see her smile.
 Unfortunately, she found she enjoyed the prickling hair of his beard
on her face. She was still rubbing him when his knot shrunk, and she
yelped in surprise when he lifted her up, turned and threw her on the
bed.
This time he did not wait for her to do anything. After tearing off his
clothes, he spread her legs wide and entered her with one thrust. I’mya
gasped, clenching in shock. He went deeper than before. But before she
could adjust, he was pounding her into the bed, gripping her hips and
her neck as he rammed his hips, plunging into her wet tightness. I’mya’s
knees spread of their own accord, her hips lifted to meet him almost on
their own. She didn’t have the power to do anything else. His brutal
savagery captured her raw instincts, she had no choice but to submit.
And it was magnificent.

“I will teach you, but you must be willing to learn.” Black-curls stared at
her, waiting for a response. “This takes effort—and it cannot be
halfhearted.”
I’mya held his eye. “I told you I am willing to do whatever it takes. Just
teach me.”
“I’mya, look!” I’yala held up a large loaf of bread, her eyes shining
with joy. I’mya’s mouth watered at the sight, but she asked calmly.
“Where did you get it, I’yala? Please don’t tell me you traded with any of
the other factions.”
They quietly inched around the ember; jagged and imposing, it
blocked most of the road, with only a sliver of a gap to squeeze through,
but they had to get to the other side of the ember if they were to escape
the other faction. The punishment for theft was severe wherever you
went, but I’mya would be damned by the Seven if she was going to let
anyone hurt I’yala. She was only eight, but no one cared about age much
anymore. If she could speak and understand, then she could be held
accountable.
“Concentrate!” a thick voice bellowed. “You have to concentrate if you
want to wield magic, I’mya!”
“I’m trying! Stop shouting.”
The magic faded. Black-curls glared at her and he shook his head
before walking out of the potions room. I’mya cursed, kicking over a chair
in her anger. She would rather throw knives than have to learn magic, but
that was what she signed up for. Sighing, she followed Black-curls to
apologize.

I’mya had no idea how many hours passed or how many times she
ended up impaled on the dragorai’s knot. All she knew was that by the
time the sun peeked over the horizon of the mountain range, heralding
a new day, she was exhausted.
She lay on the bed, entangled with the sheets and the dragorai’s
limbs, every single muscle in her body aching. Sweat drenched her, her
own and the dragorai’s. Being sore she’d expected, but what she didn’t
expect was the strange satisfaction settled in every part of her.
Watching the approaching sun, she wondered when it would be
time to leave. She was deathly tired, but no matter how tired she was,
no matter how much she longed to drift off, she couldn’t sleep with the
dragorai. It was impossible to trust him with the way he’d toyed with
her, playing with her like a child infatuated with a new toy.
Throughout the night he’d watched her intensely, observing how
she reacted to the things he did. Of course, she was not proud of her
behavior; like the way she’d pressed her nose into his chest, or any part
of his skin really, to breathe in his scent. Or the way she spread her legs
and aided his thrusts whenever he was between them. But that was all
sexual activity. She couldn’t be blamed for seeking to find her situation
enjoyable—she might as well.
But she didn’t trust the way he watched her. What was he looking
for? Was he using magic to monitor her in some way? It was unsettling.
The main revelation that came from the night was the amount of
memories that returned and the pattern with which they arrived. It
usually happened during the knotting on his cock. It was a strange time
between them; they were locked together so intimately, both in close
proximity, still panting and touching, yet they did not speak at all. I’mya
was glad for the return of her memories; she could use the time to
analyze them and figure out who she was.
By the end of the night, she pieced together that she had come from
the North, although the information Dayatha had didn’t match up. From
what she could tell, she had been born into one of the oldest factions
and she’d been a scout, gathering information about other factions so
they could secure food, shelter, weapons, and anything else to help
them to live and defend against both attacks from the South and the
dangerous magic that plagued the North. There were a couple of
moments surrounding magic that she didn’t quite understand, but the
picture was beginning to build.
Another common reoccurring theme was her speaking to the man
with dark hair. He was clearly an alpha, with a muscled body and an
arrogant nature to prove it. And he seemed to be someone that her
faction respected. He wasn’t the leader of it, but he had a lot of
knowledge about the war and what was happening in the area she was
in.
In a few of the memories, the young girl, I’yala, appeared, and it was
clear they had some kind of life together. I’mya was usually playing with
her, reading her a story, reminding her of the rules—like not picking up
random things that could be magical bombs, or not trusting anyone
who was unfamiliar and could be from a different faction—and
generally trying to keep her out of trouble. The girl was either her
daughter or a family member, maybe a sister or a niece. But there was
no indication where the girl was now. The only thing I’mya could think
was that the girl, the man with black hair, or her faction had something
to do why she was in the lair. Still, she had to also consider there wasn’t
any indication that she hadn’t come here to be a kon’aya. Just because
she lied to Dayatha about her background didn’t mean she came here
with ulterior intentions. She could have simply applied to be part the
lair to get away from that life.
The dragorai turned, dead in his sleep, and I’mya slipped out from
under his arm, and out of the bed. It was time to go. She wasn’t sure
how long kon’ayas usually stayed, but she didn’t want to wake up with
him—from her understanding that wasn’t something typical for a
dragorai either. So she forced her shaky legs to take her to the door she
came in through.
Thankfully, when she opened it there was someone waiting for her
—not a steward, but a blue-cloaked servant who had fallen asleep
crouched on the ground, clearly only there waiting for her.
She nudged him awake and sighed with relief as he allowed her to
lean on him and he assisted her to the nearest washroom. After that,
she headed back to the sleeping lounge where she sunk into a deep
slumber, finally escaping the arrogant dragorai and the insane few
hours they’d had together.
 5

I ’mya dropped down into the chair opposite Dayatha and scowled.
From the glare of the sun, she could tell it was still early morning,
and she felt like she hadn’t slept at all. Everything ached when she
moved and her head pounded. “Why did you wake me?” she asked
irritably.
Dayatha leaned forward on the desk. “I’d like to know what
happened.”
“What do you mean?”
“You were in Master’s room all night.”
I’mya shrugged. “So?”
“So,” Dayatha said slowly. “What did you do?”
“What do you mean, what did I do?” I’mya bristled. “I did what you
told me to do.”
“And he… made use of you all night?”
“What else do you think I was doing in there?” I’mya said, her voice
hardening. “You send me in there, unprepared, and with the risk of him
harming me—because I used magic once and may have deceived you
get here—and now you are asking me what I did! I did exactly what I
was told. What more do you want?”
 Dayatha stared at her, her gaze narrowing as she looked over I’mya’s
face. “I’m simply requesting to know what happened in the room. I ask
all the kon’ayas. If his appetite is changing, I want to prepare the
others.”
“I have no idea about his appetite.” I’mya folded her arms and sat
back in her chair. “I know that I ache all over and that I stink of him
even though I’ve already washed twice. Anything else you want to
know, I have nothing to tell you.”
Dayatha stared at her, clearly annoyed at her answer. “Here.” She
pushed a goblet of liquid across the table. “Drink this.”
“What is it?”
“Water, mixed with a little potion that will help the pain and also
reduce your tiredness. You are very irritable.”
I’mya scowled at her, but picked up the goblet. As soon as the water
touched her lips, she realized how thirsty she was. She also realized she
hadn’t eaten anything since yesterday afternoon.
“When we went in there to fix the room, the bed had been used,”
Dayatha said.
“Yes.” I’mya looked at her confused.
“I just wanted to check where you actually presented yourself?”
“On the table,” I’mya said forcefully. “Like I was told. Why don’t you
ask him if you don’t believe me?”
“I do not question Master,” Dayatha said. “But your answers could
help the next person who goes in to see him. Thank you.” Her words
were polite, but she looked like she wanted to roll her eyes. “If I have
any other questions, I will be sure to ask you.”
I’mya got up, wincing a little, before making her way to the door.
Something was strange about Dayatha’s questions, but she couldn’t
bring herself to care about it at that moment.
 However, by the time she was halfway back to the sleeping lounge,
her mood suddenly lifted, no doubt due to Dayatha’s potion. She slowed
down to think about her situation. There was no doubt that being with
the dragorai helped her to remember her life. The only time she’d ever
recalled her memories was when she was with him, and she’d had
frequent recall last night, so if she wanted to access more of them, she
needed to spend more time with him. Expelling a heavy sigh, she tried
to manage the turbulence of mixed emotions churning through her at
the idea. As infuriating as he was, she couldn’t deny how addictive he
was—and she struggled to control herself around him. His scent, the
things he did…. that they did… it had all been so animalistic and
instinctual, and that both frightened and thrilled her.
Another thing becoming clearer was her strange connection to
magic. She may have used magic once to create a shield against the
dragon’s fire, but that didn’t explain how magic was somehow
translating his language into words she could understand. If he wasn’t
doing it, did it mean she was? And what had she been trying to do in
her memories with the curly black-haired man? There was more to her
connection with magic than there appeared to be, and there was no
doubt it would benefit her to find out more.
She couldn’t help but wonder if it was all worth it. What if she was
putting herself in danger? Since he admitted not realizing how delicate
she was, he didn’t try to hurt her the rest of the night, but did that mean
he was never going to hurt her again? She didn’t know, and she couldn’t
trust that he wouldn’t.
I’mya rubbed her forehead and put the thoughts aside for now. She
had time to think about it all—she wasn’t going to be visiting him again
for a while.
When I’mya returned to the sleeping lounge, her group was waiting
for her by the wall of her nook. She offered them a weak smile as she
approached and began to climb up.
“Don’t you dare walk past us,” Syb exclaimed, looking up at her. “We
agreed that whoever went first would give the rest of us feedback.”
“I’m tired,” I’mya explained. “I don’t have the energy right now.” And
even if she did, what would she say? She couldn’t tell these girls
everything she’d been through. Not when it was so humiliating and…
intimately private.
“You can’t let us down like that, I’mya,” Syb said sternly. “You’re the
only one who can prepare us.”
I’mya released a low chuckle, turning back to her. “I can tell you that
Tvesha was correct. No one can prepare you for that.”
“You are the only kon’aya who has ever spent the entire night with
him,” Tiiu said, watching her carefully. “Why is that?”
I’mya raised her brows. “How do you know that?”
“The other girls told us,” Nureen said. “No one else has been in there
for the whole night.” Her expression was a blend of worry, shock, and
nervousness. “Not a single kon’aya remembers that ever happening
before. You have to tell us why. You have to help prepare us for a whole
night of him.”
Elora held up her hand to the other girls. “Let’s give her some time
to rest,” she said gently to the others. “If he has never spent a whole
night with a kon’aya before, then she has likely experienced something
that no one else in this lair has—she can’t be expected to report back
when she’s barely had a night sleep.”
Tiiu’s gaze dropped and she nodded in agreement, as did Nureen.
Syb watched I’mya carefully before dipping her head in a sharp nod and
heading toward her bed.
“Thank you,” I’mya mouthed to Elora with relief.
Elora nodded. “Have a good sleep,” she said wistfully. “There will be
plenty of questions for you when you wake.”
When I’mya woke again, midday was approaching. She scooted to the
edge of her nook. The sleeping lounge was mostly empty, with only a
few people in the space fixing bedsheets.
“You’re awake?”
I’mya glanced over to Elora’s nook. “Yes, finally.” She laughed
nervously. “Were you waiting for me?”
“Honestly? Yes. I have to admit, I’m as curious as everyone else.”
I’mya shook her head as she sat with her legs dangling out of the
nook. She wasn’t as sore between the legs as she had been that
morning, and she silently thanked Dayatha for her potion. “I can’t
explain it,” she said. “It’s like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. I
wouldn’t know how to prepare anyone.”
“You can’t explain it at all?” Elora asked, disappointment in her tone.
“Only because it was so different to anything I’ve experienced
before,” I’mya explained. “He is a… monster.”
Elora’s eyes widened to frightening proportions. “A monster?”
I’mya nodded. “I was in a lot of pain throughout the whole thing, and
yet he also made me feel…”
“Pleasure?”
I’mya nodded, almost scared to admit it. “And not just pleasure,
but…” She struggled to find the right words. “It was as if my body
needed what he gave me—like he knew what I needed more than I did.”
And she had been very needy.
Elora nodded, chewing on her lip as she thought. “That’s not really
surprising, especially if you’re an omega. And if you haven’t had sex
before—or that kind of sex—then it makes sense, I suppose.”
“Have you?”
 Elora shook her head. “I was lucky enough not to need to sell my
virginity or seek an omega shelter.”
“An omega shelter isn’t that much different from this though, isn’t
it?” I’mya asked, remembering one of the conversations from her
memories.
“It’s very different,” Elora said, her brows shooting up. “In an omega
shelter there isn’t this much luxury or sense of community or all of
these activities that we can do if we want. And at least it’s only one man
we’re required to serve here. In an omega shelter you have to serve
many, and then bear the resulting children, regardless if you want to or
not.”
“But it is a form of safety, isn’t it?” I’mya asked, wondering about
I’yala. There was no indication in her memories of how long ago that
little girl was with her. What if she was grown up now? What if she was
an omega?
“It is barely living,” Elora muttered. “I’d prefer being on my own or
in a well-formed faction than in a place like that. It is also targeted, you
know. The Southern soldiers know that there will always be men near
an omega shelter.” She shook her head. “Omegas always end up in the
middle of everything.”
I’mya looked over at Elora for a long moment and decided to take a
risk. “Do you think you could tell me more about the North? I can’t
remember much about anything before I came here.”
Elora pursed her lips as she looked at her. “Maybe you blocked it
out.”
“I don’t think it’s that. I didn’t even remember my name when I first
woke up.”
Elora frowned at her. “You lost your memory?”
I’mya nodded.
“How?”
 “I don’t know.”
Elora peered at her for a long moment.
“I don’t think Dayatha was involved,” I’mya added. “I just woke up
here.”
Elora relaxed. “Well, if you can’t remember, that’s probably a good
thing,” she muttered darkly. “Is that why you were unconscious that
first day?”
“One of the reasons. I-I thought I’d been kidnapped.”
Surprisingly, Elora didn’t laugh. “I can see how it might seem like
that,” she said thoughtfully.
“I just want to understand how I came to be here.”
Elora swung out onto the wall and climbed over to I’mya’s nook.
“What are you doing?” I’mya asked, as Elora pushed past her and
crawled into her nook.
“It’s easier to talk privately if we are closer,” she said, then settled
cross-legged against front of the ledge at the end of the nook . “What
exactly do you remember about the North—before you came here?”
“Just snippets of conversation and places I’ve been,” I’mya said,
fixing herself sideways and resting her feet on the wall.
“Do you know what the Twin Realms are?”
When I’mya shook her head, Elora’s brows raised. “What do you
know?”
“I know what the dragorai are, but they are more of a feeling than a
memory,” I’mya replied. “I think I understand what magic is and how is
works…” She thought back to the broken memories. “I remember a
tower… and a city with destroyed buildings… but not much more than
that.”
Elora was quiet for a long moment. “It’s definitely magic that is the
cause of your memory loss.”
“Why do you say that?”
 “You have no knowledge of anything, not even the background of
our land and how it’s structured. That’s not normal. You should
remember something concrete and its context. It is almost as if your
memories have been completely wiped.”
“Could that be intentional?”
Elora shrugged. “Not necessarily. Magic is highly volatile. It causes
many accidental injuries and problems. It’s the whole reason why the
war is so dangerous for us all.”
“But how dangerous?” I’mya asked. “I’m trying to understand
exactly what it was like.”
Elora remained still, then sighed heavily. “We are on one side of
what we call the Twin Realms, which are two enormous sets of lands
separated by the Forbidden Mountains and the Karyllean Ocean. We
don’t really communicate or trade much with the other realm. I think
it’s because they’re so far away that any prolonged communication
would be difficult, so we don’t know anything about them. Anyway, our
realm is split into two Dominions, North and South. The North is
slightly bigger, colder, and is ruled by the king. The South is warmer and
split into provinces and ruled by the queen.”
“And they are both at war?” I’mya interjected.
“Yes. No one knows exactly why, but there are lots of rumors as well
as plenty of obvious reasons.”
“Like what?”
Elora shrugged. “Both are highly skilled in wielding magic. It is
rumored they each want the secrets of the other. It is also rumored they
were once lovers who turned against each other, or possibly siblings
who are jealous of each other. Things like that. The king is an alpha, the
queen is an omega, so they could also be fighting for the rights of their
dynamic in the others’ land or even to overtake the others’ land….”
Elora shrugged. “It really could be anything. The northern cities used to
be vast and beautiful and wealthy, spread over the various lands in the
North. They had their own names and personalities and trading
specialties. But since the war has been raging for so long, they are all
just called the North cities now. The queen attacks the cities every day,
so no one knows if they will die in their sleep or wake up ripped apart.
Disease is everywhere, and crime isn’t recognized unless it’s against the
crown. The only way any of us survived is by sticking with the people
we trusted, our families and friends, or creating alliances with people
we trust. Different factions were created based on that. But… even then,
there was a lot of betrayal and infighting. More recently, the factions
started devolving into specific groups based on gender, dynamic, race,
or beliefs. Many people died needlessly just from us fighting among
ourselves…” Her voice faded away, unfocused eyes fixed somewhere in
her memory and not on I’mya. After a long moment, she glanced at
I’mya. “Do you know what ember is?”
I’mya shook her head.
“But you know what magic is, yes?”
I’mya nodded, but she wasn’t sure how to describe it. “It’s a type of
energy in the air… I think.”
“Yes, is it a force that exists everywhere, but not in the same… space
as us.” She wrinkled her nose. “No wait.” After a moment’s thought,
Elora raised her arm and grabbed it with her hand. “See how I can
touch my arm? We can’t touch magic like that, even though it’s more
substantial and weightier than air.”
“Right,” I’mya agreed.
“So it’s there, but we usually cannot feel it or see it the way we feel
and see physical things.”
I’mya nodded.
“But it can be invoked to cross over into our… space, so that we do
feel it.”
 “Through incantations?”
“Yes, although incantations are the most dangerous way,” Elora
explained. “It can be invoked in other, safer ways.” She dropped her arm
and got comfortable again. “Ember is the residue that remains when
magic passes into our space and becomes tangible and then is used up.”
“Like when something burns?”
“Yes,” Elora said, pleased. “It’s like… ash. Magical ash. But it’s
incredibly dangerous.”
“Why?”
Elora leaned back on the ledge behind her. “When someone invokes
magic in a general sense, if they don’t know what they’re doing, they
will end up leaving at least some kind of magical residue. It’s only the
highest level casters who leave no residue at all. When the king and
queen battle using magic, they deliberately discharge ember all over the
place. Sometimes, they’ll detonate a magical bomb, and after the
incantation or charm has done what it’s intended to do, there will be a
massive cloud of ember that sprouts in the whole area. Sometimes it
won’t happen until a day, a week, a month, or even a year after. No one
knows when to expect it.”
“But why is it bad?” I’mya asked, thinking back to one of her
memories. “What does it do?”
Elora leaned forward, pressing her elbows into her knees as she
tried to think of a way to explain. “Even though it’s ash, it’s the remains
of charged magic. The way it typically manifests is similar to really thick
charcoal smoke. It moves very, very slowly, but it will penetrate
anything it comes into contact with—buildings, stone, water, flesh… it is
unstoppable. Anyone caught in it is ripped apart by its charge and
remains alive while they float in pieces within it. It is well known that if
you hear voices from within the ember, you do not talk to them. They
are basically the dead who still think they can be saved, and they’re
begging for help. But there is nothing you can do to help. Over time they
go insane. Beside that,” Elora shrugged, “it’s magical residue. It’s
unpredictable, and depending on what incantation it came from, it
could have all kinds of additional consequences.”
“Whoa,” I’mya breathed, horrified by the idea of something so
destructive.
Elora nodded. “I know.”
I’mya thought for a long moment about one of the memories she’d
had. Both she and I’yala had been trying to squeeze past a black rock of
some kind, to escape to the other side. It could have been thick smoke
that was barely moving. “So,” she asked hesitantly, as a thought came to
her. “You could be walking, going about your duties, and ember could
just sprout up and… kill you?”
“Not even kill you,” Elora said, darkly. “It will dismember you and
then float you inside its cloud all over the Dominion. Many have been
lost that way. And entire factions have been lost when people try to
quickly run in to save their family or friends. It is a problem that’s
plagued the North since the war began.”
I’mya nodded her head slowly, remembering that they had talked
about it when she first arrived. “And the king can’t stop it?”
“I’m not sure. Ember is almost impossible to destroy. And, of course,
he inflicts the same on the South.”
I’mya shook her head, exhaling heavily. That was not a life that
would be pleasant to live, never knowing when something could attack
that you couldn’t get away from. And you would remain forever alive
but never able to live. Her thoughts returned to I’yala. Had something
like that happened to her? “So,” she began again, “Magic can only be
used safely by a competent caster?”
“Or a potions master,” Elora said. “Potions are much safer than
trying to invoke it by speech or any other method.”
 I’mya chewed on her lip as she thought about the amount of times
the dragorai had used magic on her. Even when Dayatha cast magic in
her face, that could have potentially caused her harm. Why didn’t it?
She didn’t understand that much about magic, but she did know that
the dragorai had to be highly skilled by the way he’d infused magic in
her body. “How do we find out more about magic? she asked.
Elora’s brows crumpled. “Why would you want to? We’re all here to
get away from it.”
I’mya shrugged. “It might spark some memories.”
Elora thought for a long moment. “I’m sure the library will have
papers on it,” she suggested. “Can you read?”
I’mya shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“I read two books before I came here, but they were really basic,”
Elora said. “I’d love to be able to read the whole library. There are a few
girls here who are offering to teach us.” She shot I’mya a look and began
crawling out of the nook. “And on that note, the rest are all waiting to
speak to you after lunch.”
I’mya sighed. “Of course. I don’t suppose I can escape that any
longer.”

After lunch, I’mya sat and talked with the other four girls in one of the
lounges. It turned out not to be as bad as she thought. Mainly they were
curious about the dragorai—what he looked like, the things he said and
did—rather than the specifics of their sexual activity. Even so, she
couldn’t share some things that she felt were too private or too
embarrassing. Like the way she had been so delighted to have him
inside her each time, or the torture and way she fought him. She kept it
somewhat vague, but even without the specific details, the girls found it
fascinating.
“So there’s a table you have to lie on?” Nureen said, her nose
wrinkling. “And he just… takes you?”
Tiiu nodded. “I heard some of the older kon’ayas talking about that.
That is usually how it goes.”
Nureen contemplated it for a moment and then shrugged. “I
suppose it’s better than most options available to us,” she said. “Did you
enjoy any of it? Or was it completely horrible?”
All eyes turned to I’mya—all with some level of hope.
“It wasn’t completely horrible,” I’mya admitted, heat creeping up her
neck. “There were parts I enjoyed very much.”
The girls smiled, and it was as though they collectively relaxed.
“That’s better than hating the whole thing,” Syb said.
After that they began talking about other things, activities they had
taken part in in the lair, the other servants and kon’ayas they’d met, and
suggestions they wanted to make to the stewards about things they
wanted to do. As I’mya listened to them, she realized that they had all
tried most of the available activities and were making new friends. Even
Syb was more relaxed. It seemed like they were adjusting to making a
life in the lair, while she was constantly thinking about escaping—to go
back to the horrible reality that she’d seen in her memories. Maybe she
had this all wrong.
She decided to spend the afternoon in the crafting room with Elora,
Nureen and Syb, trying to learn the skill of painting. It was a curious
activity, one that seemed like magic itself. The other servants would lift
paint on small brushes to their canvases and manage to make beautiful
shapes and patterns or recreate items or rooms from the lair. It was
fascinating. I’mya couldn’t see how they were able to do it without it
being magical, but Nureen insisted no magic was involved.
 “Where is Tiiu?” Nureen asked.
“I think she’s praying at the temple,” Syb said. “She prays a lot.”
A guttural noise in the corner of the room drew their attention. A
couple desperate for each were against the wall, the man’s hips
rhythmically banging against the woman as she clawed his back.
The girls turn their attentions back to their canvas like it was the
most normal thing to see, but I’mya continued to watch them, a little
confused. Was that how she and the dragorai looked? Before him, the
sex around the lair seemed lewd and perverse. But what they were
doing didn’t seem anything like the obscene and deeply lascivious
experience she’d had with the dragorai—a powerful whole body
experience that rendered her mindless and exhausted.
“Why do they all have sex anywhere they want around here?” she
asked, turning back to her canvas. “Do the men not have bedrooms?”
“From what I understand,” Syb said, “sex is encouraged between
staff whether it’s public or not, but they don’t like it when it crosses the
hierarchy of the lair—like stewards having sex with the blue-robed
servants—it should only happen within their own group to prevent
societal power abuse. Kon’ayas can voluntarily choose to have sex with
anyone they wish, because it helps them to normalize and enjoy what
they do for the master. And, of course, there is the omega heat.”
Elora, I’mya, and Nureen all stopped painting to look at Syb. “What
about it?” Elora asked.
“We are supposed to be learning this in our studies, but there are
two ways that it’s dealt with. The first way is to suppress it, which most
people do not choose. The second way is to allow other staff to help the
omega through it.”
“Why do people choose not to suppress it?” Nureen asked. “Surely
that would be a better option than to leave them at the mercy of other
staff members?”
 “I don’t know all the details,” Syb said, somewhat apologetically. “I’m
not an omega, so it felt strange for me to ask, but when we have our
study session we can ask.”
“But when is it,” Elora asked, somewhat irritably. “What if one of us
goes into our heat before we get a chance to learn about our options?”
Syb simply shrugged, but Nureen got up. “I’m going to ask Dayatha.”
I’mya’s canvas ended up looking like a colorful mess, as did she. She
had to visit the washroom afterward because paint landed everywhere,
and she was not happy about it. It was completely unsatisfactory not to
have a final product that was as good as some of the others’. And then to
have to wash paint off your breasts? Horrendous. Elora laughed the
whole way back to the sleeping lounge at I’mya’s ranting about the
activity.
“They’ve been painting for ages,” Elora tried to explain between her
giggles. “It takes practice.”
I’mya simply scowled. But as she climbed back up to her nook, she
realized she hadn’t thought about anything but painting all afternoon. It
was the first time she’d felt at ease in the place... And that had been
worth it, even if the end result hadn’t been very good.
“I spoke to Dayatha,” Nureen called from below, climbing up to her
own nook. “Our studies start in the next couple of days. She said no one
will be in their heat before then.”
“How does she know?” I’mya asked.
“I don’t know how,” Nureen replied. “But I’m relieved. I don’t want to
go into my heat unprepared.”
I’mya settled down on her bedding wondering how Dayatha could
predict their heats, but before she could think it through, the bell
chimed.
She sat up, her heart pounding, but she forced herself to calm.
Another girl would be going this time. Hearing Dayatha’s footsteps
enter the lounge, she crawled to the edge of her nook to see who she
was going to choose.
To her utter horror, Dayatha headed to the foot of her wall and
stopped, staring up at her.
I’mya scooted back in her nook, shocked. “No!”
A tight, controlled disapproval surfaced on Dayatha’s face. Muttering
under her breath, she rose into the air swiftly until she hovered in front
of I’mya’s nook. “Control yourself!” she ordered, her voice quiet enough
for only I’mya to hear. “You do not ever refuse Master, nor do you
behave as though this is not an honor, especially in front of the others.”
“You told me I didn’t have to go again for a while after yesterday,”
I’mya argued. “I’m not going again today! There are other girls who
haven’t been yet.”
Dayatha’s mouth tightened. “I know I said that, but he has demanded
you. And you cannot refuse the request.”
I’mya stared at her. “What?”
Dayatha began to descend. “We do not have time to debate this. Join
me on the ground.”
I’mya sat in her nook fuming. She thought there would be more time
before she saw the dragorai again. She wasn’t ready for him. Yes, her
body had healed, but after the relaxing afternoon she’d just had, now
she had to guard herself against what he might do. No doubt he
requested her so he could torture her again.
She grit her teeth and cursed, but she couldn’t see a way out of it.
As I’mya climbed out of her nook, she glanced up at Elora, who
offered her an encouraging smile, and Nureen, who grinned brightly as
though it was exciting that she had been chosen for a second time in a
row. I’mya sighed as she followed Dayatha out of the room. Maybe this
was a good thing. Hadn’t she already determined that he helped her
memories return? That meant the more time she spent with him, the
quicker she would get her memories back. But that only made her feel
marginally better.
She hurried to keep up with Dayatha, who always seemed to be able
to walk at unnatural speeds when it came to the master.
As they approached the chamber, I’mya asked. “Any words of
wisdom this time?”
Dayatha hesitated as they came to a stop in front of the door. “I
know we may have begun on difficult footing,” she began, “but you are
still a kon’aya, and I care for you like I care for the others. You are still
my responsibility, and if you feel this—” she gestured toward the door
“—becomes too much, then you can let me know and we can provide
you with extra support.”
I’mya nodded, grateful Dayatha had at least recognized that this was
overwhelming.
“Now that you know what to expect, it should be easier,” Dayatha
continued. “But you can always come to see me afterward. Now, in you
go. We’ve kept him waiting long enough.”
I’mya took a slow breath and entered the room.
The dragorai was already there. He stood in the center of the room,
his hands clasped behind his back, feet wide, tall and imposing. His
stance emanated strength and power. He only wore pants today so his
bare chest, broad and muscled, was on display, and for a moment I’mya
was wholly intimidated. It didn’t help that he watched her with those
dark eyes and hard jaw, as if he had been waiting for her for hours.
“’et pebal tan itatzon de me la,” he said, his voice hard. He looked at
her as though he was expecting an answer.
I’mya exhaled in frustration. “I cannot understand your language,”
she said in annoyance. “If you can understand me, why don’t you speak
my language?”
 He didn’t answer, choosing to glare at her from the middle of the
room. I’mya huffed out a breath. It were as if he was trying to be as
aggravating as possible.
“Do you want me on the table or the bed,” she asked.
The man stalked forward so quickly she didn’t have time to move
before he was right in front of her. “si nu bnum dakno ’et la’ubf si bokh
dvayfa daakh tusi.” From his rough tone alone, she could tell that he was
threatening her or that he was angry about something.
“You are angry,” she said, taking a moment to carefully examine his
expression.
Slowly, he nodded.
“How can you be angry with me?” I’mya said sharply. “I haven’t even
seen you since early this morning.”
The dragorai’s eyes flashed and he growled as he stepped even
closer, towering over her.
I’mya stared up at him, then bit her lip thoughtfully. “When I left you
were sleeping.”
Impossibly, the dragorai’s eyes hardened even more, and finally
I’mya understood.
“You weren’t finished with me,” she suggested slowly. “I wasn’t
dismissed?”
Words rumbled out of him with such a salacious tone that heat crept
up I’mya’s neck. There was no doubt what he was saying about his
intentions for her that morning.
“I didn’t realize,” she said, trying to be as apologetic as she could. “I
wasn’t aware I would be needed.”
He still wasn’t happy with that because he grabbed her wrists and
placed her hands on his pants, then grabbing her hair, he forced her
down to her knees.
 Trembling, I’mya unbuckled him, apprehension rising in her chest.
His cock bound out of his pants as she finally dragged them down his
hips. It looked bigger than it had yesterday, but of course, she was
closer.
He positioned his cock at her lips. “pe gen tmo’ gi zmuy.”
I’mya braced herself. Every time she’d seen men or women doing it
around the lair, it looked as though they enjoyed it, but how could they?
Their mouth was open in a strange position and some of them sounded
like they were choking to death. She took a breath, clinging onto the fact
that by the end of her next few hours with him, she would have more
memories to piece together about her past.
His skin was silky on her tongue when she closed her mouth around
the tip. She kept her eyes on the dragorai for any indication that she
was doing it wrong, but he simply stared down at her with that usual
hunger in his eyes.
She began sucking him slowly, running her tongue over him to
explore the features of him; the veins scattered along the length, its
various ridges and the smooth, round tip. The dragorai’s hand guided
her, helping her find a rhythm, sucking him into her mouth as far as she
could go and then pulling back to the tip. It was strange at first, but the
taste of him was even more potent than his scent, and once his fluid
saturated her mouth and throat, it was difficult not to enjoy it. By the
time her nipples were hardening, her slick gathering, she was lost in the
feel of him, and she sucked eagerly until her head was bobbing up and
down on him in a quick, sharp pace.
The dragorai groaned, and the low, deep sound burrowed into her
stomach, twisting down to the tingle between her legs, agitating her
desire for him.
Magic stirred in the air, but I’mya was too focused on what she was
doing to pay attention to what the dragorai may be planning for her.
 The more groans and growls that rumbled from his chest, the more
unbearable her arousal became. I’mya slipped her fingers between her
legs, searching for that bundle he was so expert at pleasuring, but
within a few moments the dragorai yanked her head back, pulling her
off his cock.
“nu bnum yomra bnah gi tag,” he growled. The echo followed within
moments. “Don’t you dare touch yourself.”
I’mya frowned up at him, saliva trickling out of the corner of her
mouth and down her chin. The echo had returned. What had changed?
The dragorai grabbed the wrist of the hand between her legs and
pulled it up to his face. Brushing her fingers over his nose, he then
sucked her fingers one by one.
I’mya’s core clenched at the feel of his warm mouth, but she forced
herself to think about the echo. Why had it suddenly appeared?
When the cold coils of magic began to wrap down her spine again,
she knew. He had casted an incantation. She hadn’t heard him chanting,
but he must have. It was the only thing that was different.
As the magic yanked on her spine, pulling her up into the air, she
yelled at the dragorai. “What are you doing?”
“You didn’t think that your punishment for leaving this room this
morning without permission was just to suck my cock, did you?” He
smirked, as he pushed his pants down and stepped out of them. “You
looked like you enjoyed that too much for it to be any kind of
punishment.”
I’mya hung in the position that she’d been in the day before, her
body curved over with her limbs hanging. It wasn’t as painful, but was
equally frustrating. She began to thrash again, but this time the dragorai
didn’t wait to be kicked.
He grabbed her thighs and tugged her towards him, entering her
with one hard thrust from behind.
 I’mya jerked, that beam of sharp pleasure shooting through her
body as she cried out, but he was already pounding into her, quick and
hard.
I’mya flailed, unsure what to do with herself as the surge of
sensation began to quiver in her body. It was strange to be in midair,
with no support as her whole body shook and shuddered, but
eventually she relaxed and focused on the delicious friction between
her legs. It built quickly. Arching her back, she pulled her knees up to
her stomach and spread them as wide as she could to give him easier
and deeper access.
The dragorai uttered a filthy curse, both of his large hands gripping
each of her ass cheeks as his rhythm became harsher and rougher.
Soon, nothing existed but the spiraling of sweet bliss around her
body and the need for it overwhelmed her. She could not get enough of
this feeling.
The dragorai pushed her down so she was on a diagonal with her
ass up as he pummeled her harder. She was so wet that the squishing of
their joining was positively obscene. All of it served to sink I’mya
deeper into the addiction, everything heightened her experience, and
when her climax crashed down, it tore through her, brilliantly blinding.
By the time her senses returned, the dragorai had tilted her back
upright and turned her to face him. Both of his hands gripped her hips
as he worked her on his cock, though his gaze was on her breasts as
though he wished they were in his mouth. In this position, he was too
tall to reach them.
I’mya caught his longing expression and grabbed her breast, playing
with the nipple as she smirked at him.
She almost laughed when his nose flared, annoyance in his eyes as
he glanced at her. “Do not play with me, fireball,” he ground out.
 I’mya was much too aroused to laugh, but she lifted a breast as high
as she could, dipped out to flick the nipple with her tongue.
The dragorai’s sudden roar shuddered through her body. Pulling out
of her, he placed a flat hand on her stomach and led her to the bed.
Buoyed by magic, she floated along until he pushed her down onto her
back and descended on her breasts like a madman.
I’mya loved every lick, every suck, every bite. It was so rough and
animalistic, inflicting so much pleasure and pain she knew she would
have bruises the next day, but in that moment she didn’t care. He
focused his attentions on each nipple, both separately and together
until her whole body was teetering on the edge of scorching
devastation. When he finally plunged into her again, she tumbled over,
convulsing as she screamed for more.
I’mya climaxed twice more before the dragorai finally knotted her,
stretching her to the limit with the bulbous base of his cock. He lay on
top of her, his chest heaving as he relaxed completely, smothering her as
he settled between her legs. Drenched in pungent sweat, her face
plastered to his chest, his weight pressing her heavily into the bed,
I’mya sighed in a delighted euphoria.

“You cannot enter any temple unless you carry good intentions,” the
Mheyu said. “The Goddesses can tell if someone comes to them with a
rotten heart.”
“I just wish to pray,” I’mya’s voice was hoarse. She was exhausted and
heavy with grief. “I just wish to find some kind of peace.”
The Mheyu looked her closely. “You are not sleeping.”
“Does anyone sleep?” I’mya snapped. “We are at war, Guardian. I’m
not sure what you expect.”
 “What is it that you expect?” the woman asked. “Why have you come
to pray to the Seven today?”

It had been for I’yala. I’mya’s eyes opened. She remembered now. She
had started praying to the Seven when I’yala had died. In her relaxed
state, I’mya focused on I’yala, sinking deeper into the peace she was
experiencing to encourage her memories. She had to remember her, it
felt important.

“Where do you think Mama and Papa are now?” I’yala said
absentmindedly as she laid out I’mya’s knives.
“They could be anywhere ‘lala,” I’mya said. “Probably drifting along
the shores by now. They loved the sea.”
I’yala was quiet for a moment. “Do you think they know they’re dead?”
I’mya shot her a look, frozen for a moment, then picked up a knife to
sharpen it. “They know,” she said softly. “They accepted their fate.”
“How do you know?”
I’mya put the knife down and pulled her sister into her lap, cuddling
her close as she rocked her. “When they were captured by the ember, they
didn’t call for us, do you remember? Everyone else was screaming for
their friends, their loved ones, their faction leaders—anyone who could
help get them out. But Mama and Papa were silent. They didn’t want us
to come for them because they knew. If we had come for them, they would
be killing us too.”
I’yala was silent for a long moment. “I miss them.”
“Me too, ’lala.”
The harsh resounding sadness and grief that embraced I’mya at that
moment were all that remained when the memories faded. It was only
because of the peaceful, settling pressure of the dragorai on top of her
and inside her that she didn’t immediately burst into tears. Her parents
had not been elderly when they died, like she had told Dayatha. They
had been victims of the war, victims of the queen’s ember. I’mya been
part of a family, but she and I’yala were the only ones left, until I’yala
also died. I’mya couldn’t remember how yet, but she remembered her
grief when she went to try to pray.
Thoughts and memories rolled in her head as she realized she was
truly alone. No one was looking for her or waiting for her. She still
didn’t know who the man with the curly black hair was, but she knew
he wasn’t her family. Maybe she truly had come to the lair to start a new
life once I’yala died.
I’mya wasn’t sure how long she lay under the dragorai—time never
seemed to exist in this room—but by the time the dragorai’s knot
shrunk, her melancholy mood had sunk to a bitter, grief-fueled anguish.
As he shifted his position, I’mya caught sight of a new piece of
artwork on the wall. Pushing herself up onto her elbows, she stared at it
in shock. It was the painting she made earlier in the crafting room.
“How did you get that?”
The dragorai didn’t answer. He rolled over onto his back, pulling her
with him.
She pulled out of his grasp and sat up. “How did you get that
painting?” She pointed to the painting on the wall.
“Why do you insist on asking me questions if you cannot
understand me,” he growled out, irritably.
That was true, but I’mya didn’t care.
An unreasonable rage flared over her, bubbling up her grief into
something hard and prickly.
 “You’re following me!” she accused, glaring at him. “Why did you
take that?”
He rested his hands under his head and looked at her, amused. “You
are in my lair, fireball. Everything you are belongs to me, much less a
painting.”
I’mya climbed off him, infuriated by his utter dismissiveness.
She stomped over to the painting and ripped it from the wall.
Fighting with it, she tried to tear it to shreds as she growled, taking all
of her anger out onto the canvas. It wasn’t as easy as it looked, she had
only managed to pathetically break it in two by the time the dragorai
grabbed her and yanked it away from her. He slammed her up against
the wall, clearly angry, but she was already crying.
That only infuriated him more. “I told you, you are forbidden from
weeping,” he growled out. “Stop it. Now!”
But the grief had taken hold of her, racking up the sobs for I’yala
that she’d never released. She hadn’t protected her own sister, and the
shame was like a fire burning every drop of her blood. Adding to that
pain was knowing she’d never honored I’yala’s death properly—the
guardian wouldn’t let her pray. With every recollection of her
memories, the realization hit her over and over again; she belonged
nowhere and with no one. She’d been forced to leave her faction to
protect I’yala—who’d stolen bread to feed I’mya when starvation began
to set in.
“What is wrong with you?” the dragorai bellowed.
I’mya lashed out at him, but he grabbed her wrists before her fists
could connect with anything. “Why are you torturing me?” I’mya yelled
at him. “You have an entire lair of women, why do you have to pick me
to torture two nights in a row? Just let me be!”
He stood there for a moment, incredulity forming on his face as he
watched her.
 “I want to be on my own, I want to go back to my nook. Let me
leave!”
The dragorai leaned forward, pressing his body over hers as she
fought him, but eventually there was no point in continuing. He was too
strong and not only that, his scent, as always, began to settle her.
As she fell limp, her head dropping onto his shoulder, he carried her
back over to the bed and lay her down.
“Do not pretend you have been tortured the entire time you have
been with me,” he murmured as he spread her legs and ran his hands
over her breasts, squeezing them. “Or that you have not enjoyed me as
much as I have enjoyed you.” He lowered to kiss between her legs. “You
are different: strong, fiery, beautiful. I see no reason to deprive myself of
something so sweet.”
I’mya moaned, tears still streaming from her eyes as she writhed on
the bed. He rose up and pressed into her, sinking in until she had taken
his full length and then he simply lay on top of her, his elbows digging
into the bed on either side of her head. His eyes captured hers in a
solemn gaze. “This is not torture that you are experiencing, fireball, it is
my cock and my favor. And you will have both for as long as I feel it
necessary.”
With the crest of her grief dissipating, his words settled an odd calm
over I’mya.
He took pleasure in her pain, he laughed as he inflicted his torture
on her. Every time he used magic on her, he was taking the risk of it
damaging her, just like how it damaged and killed her parents, but he
didn’t care. She was his toy to use as he pleased. Even today, he used
magic on her again after knowing she suffered last time. But at least she
knew what he was, and what she was to him. He would get bored with
her eventually and move on to another, and she would still have a life in
this lair. A simple and safe life.
 The dragorai slowly moved his hips, his cock dragging on the
sensitive flesh between her legs. I’mya exhaled, succumbing to the
sparks of pleasure that gripped her, each nerve rejoicing at the blazing
sensation of his length inside her. She stretched, luxuriating in the
feeling, closing her eyes against his gaze and squeezing down on him to
increase the burn in all of her intimate muscles.
The dragorai breathed out a gruff curse and began to thrust. Soon
he was pounding into her and she submitted fully to him until they
were both panting, the force of their slapping bodies releasing rhythmic
grunts from their throats, so carnal and so animalistic.
I’mya became a bundle of instincts. For the rest of the night, she
spread herself for the dragorai in any way he pleased. She took pleasure
and delight whenever his tongue, his hands, and his cock were on her
and ran her fingers over his beautiful, warm skin. He took her
repeatedly, all over the room, sometimes knotting her so viciously she
howled and clawed him for relief.
Memories continued to return, but all they did was reinforce her
relationship with her sister—both before and after their parents had
died. For many new moons, she and I’yala had scrounged for food,
scouted for their faction, and try to avoid all the dangers in the North
while looking out for each other. When some of the men in the faction
paid too much attention to I’yala after their parents died, I’mya had to
constantly find new places to sleep every night. She trained with her
knives while I’yala was sleeping, and during the day she tried to ensure
that her sister could remain a child for at least a few hours. Memories
returned with the curly black head guy, and it was clear that he’d been
trying to teach her something, trying to explain something to her about
the North or the war. I’mya got the feeling that she had met him after
I’yala had died, but it wasn’t clear what they were doing during those
memories.
 Thankfully, I’mya’s grief could not exist in the face of such powerful,
primal activity with the dragorai, and by the time he had taken his fill,
the raw edge of her torment had faded. She panted against his chest,
boneless and tingly. It was becoming clear to her that she’d come to the
lair to find a new life after her sister died, and the dragorai’s ability to
bring her such pleasure was an unexpected advantage. Why shouldn’t
she enjoy it? Putting aside her apprehension about the dragorai, there
was only one thing that made it unpleasant. She needed to address it
with him.
As soon as her energy returned, she climbed on top of him and
straddled his huge body as he watched her through the slits of his eyes.
“I don’t like when you use magic on me,” she informed him. “Please
don’t do it.”
The dragorai watched her, his expression unchanged. For a moment,
she wondered if he heard her. After a long moment, he slid his large
hands under her thighs, and lifted her up, pulling her close to his face.
“Did you know your kon tastes even better after it’s been fucked and
knotted?” he said conversationally, positioning her over his mouth.
I’mya frowned. But before she could say another word, he was
furiously lapping at her. She grabbed his hair, twisting the strands
through her fists as she tried to reaffirm her point, but the invading
pleasure pushed her will aside. And for the rest of the night, she was
lost within him.
 6

F or the next two weeks, he demanded her every night.

Each night was as violently passionate and euphoric as the last, the
ferociousness of their coupling never waning. But the dragorai started
exhibiting strange behavior.
Whenever he entered her, he wanted to watch her face and have her
eyes on his, no matter the position. I’mya couldn’t understand why he
insisted on it, but she soon came to realize that he wanted to look at her
at the moment she submitted to the pleasure—the moment she
submitted to him. A beam of satisfaction entered his gaze whenever she
did, as though it pleased him beyond measure. I’mya wasn’t sure what
to think about that, but her body reacted regardless, her slick abundant
and dripping when she witnessed his satisfaction.
She was still unable to sleep in the dragorai’s bed, and by morning,
she was always exhausted and drained. But to ensure she would not be
able to leave in the mornings, the dragorai started to sleep with his
arms locked around her, keeping her pressed against her body, his legs
pinning down hers. The secure position was mostly comfortable—she
liked the pressure of his weight on her, but it also made her sweaty, hot,
and irritable. If she tried to turn, he woke instantly, growling at her
restlessness. Once, she elbowed him in the chest and snapped at him to
quiet down and stop acting like a startled goat. He rose from the bed
with a stormy annoyance and slapped her legs apart. The tussle of wills
ended in a brutal and delicious knot that left her too drowsy to
complain further.
Another new behavior revealed itself in the mornings. He didn’t
allow her to leave his chambers without spilling his seed over her neck,
breasts, or stomach. Although I’mya instinctively enjoyed it during her
orgasmic bliss, she wasn’t fond of it once in her right mind. The one
time she complained about it, he grabbed the crown of her hair and
released ropes of his pungent seed all over her face, then wouldn’t let
her wipe it off. I’mya levied a hot and angry rant at him, but stopped
once she realized he was positively pleased about his decision and was
admiring her dripping face. When his length began to harden again, she
simply stormed out of the chambers. I’mya much preferred his knot to
this strange occurrence, but she would never ask him for that. So she
kept her mouth shut and spent more time washing afterward, even
though it felt like his scent never left her completely.
“You don’t smell that strongly of him,” Elora said, rolling her eyes
one morning when I’mya returned, complaining about it yet again. “And
even if you did, would it be so bad? You said you liked his scent.”
I’mya scowled at her, but couldn’t find a worthy reply. It was true;
she loved his scent, but why was he spilling his seed on her skin—it was
a waste of a good knot and she’d only have to wash it off.
Elora laughed at her expression and shook her head. “I don’t think
you mind as much as you think you do. Otherwise you would fight him
more about it.”
I’mya glared at her and then scooted back in her nook to sulk while
Elora’s laughter rang in her ears.
Since the return of her memories about her parents and I’yala, a
heavy weight of gloom pressed down on her. Talking to Elora and
Nureen about the North helped lift it slightly because she wasn’t the
only one who had suffered—they understood. Elora in particular had
suffered a lot in the North. I’mya was surprised she’d managed to be so
positive and helpful and attentive all the time. Elora brought water for
I’mya to drink when she woke up, made sure lunch was saved for her so
she could eat, and kept her informed on the happenings in the lair.
When I’mya asked her how she could be so positive, Elora explained
that her closest friends were her parents, and they had a close-knit
group of friends who survived longer than most factions because of
their sense of family. Elora never had friends of her own, but she
wanted to create that within the lair. I’mya could understand that,
having been so close to I’yala and her parents. Memories continued to
return until she remembered almost everything about Mama, Papa,
I’yala, her faction, and the war. She still didn’t know who the black-
haired man was—he had to be a more recent memory. All of their
memories were of the two of them either arguing or him trying to teach
her magic, which she clearly wasn’t good at.
As I’mya and Elora became closer, I’mya confided in Elora a little
more about her interactions with the dragorai, though she still kept all
of her thoughts about magic to herself.
The dragorai still continued to use magic to manipulate her body,
which I’mya fought even more against since the return of her memories.
It felt disrespectful to her parents to allow him to filter his magic into
her body when it was magic that destroyed theirs, but it wasn’t like she
could stop him. She’d asked and he’d ignored her. So instead she found
ways to distract him or make him minimize his use of it.
“Don’t think I am unaware of what you’re doing, little fireball,” he
grunted out one day after she’d teased him into dispensing with magic
and taking her savagely against the wall. “You are lucky your kon is so
irresistible.”
 But through his continued use of magic, I’mya realized that it was
when he used it that the echo appeared with words she understood.
She wasn’t sure if it was from the act of casting an incantation or him
using it on her body, but when he didn’t use magic at all, she couldn’t
understand him. Of course, that didn’t make him any less infuriating.
I’mya spent her days trying some of the activities that the other girls
loved so much. Since she’d seen her terrible painting on the dragorai’s
wall, she didn’t return to that activity, but visited the garden, took part
in a strange pastime called embroidery and learned to play a popular
game the other servants loved called Dao. In the evenings, the bell
chimed for her to visit the dragorai’s chambers, but after the first week,
Dayatha said that she would be summoned by a servant instead.
She also visited the library to see if there was anything she could
learn about magic and how it was used or anything about the dragorai
that could explain the master’s connection to magic, but most of the
books were thick tomes of strange symbols and shapes she didn’t
understand. Even Elora, who could read a little, had no idea what they
said.
I’mya was curious about the temple, and Tiiu encouraged her to
visit, saying it had brought her a lot of peace since arriving.
“When was the last time you visited a temple?” Tiiu asked as they
arrived one afternoon.
“A long time ago,” I’mya muttered. “It was half-destroyed but all
seven shrines were still intact. It was the second Temple of the Seven
that I’d ever visited, but I wasn’t able to go in.”
“Why not?”
“A Mheyu wouldn’t let me enter.”
Tiiu turned to look at her, amazement on her face. “You saw a Mheyu
guardian? In the flesh?”
 I’mya nodded as she thought back to the memory. “I was surprised
as well. I didn’t realize they visited temples during the war, especially
those that were partial ruins.”
“Maybe she went to collect something important?” Tiiu said
thoughtfully. “Why wouldn’t she you let you in?”
I’mya shrugged. The Mheyu guardian from her memories had
prevented her from entering the temple, saying she held too much grief
and impure energy. She’d told I’mya the Seven would not be able to help
her, but I’mya couldn’t say that to Tiiu. “She didn’t think I had the right…
disposition.”
Tiiu shot her a strange look. “To pray to the Seven?”
I’mya carefully thought about her words before she responded, just
in case Tiiu was a devout follower of the Seven. They were usually
sensitive about the strangest things. “I had just lost someone important
to me at the time, and I hadn’t grieved properly. I think she wanted me
to work on my prayers before I entered.”
Tiiu nodded, smiling sympathetically. “That is something the Mheyu
would say. You are lucky to have met one. I heard that they’ve remained
in their sanctums since the war started, and neither the king nor queen
dare target them.”
When they entered the temple, the air was different; the magic that
usually saturated the air in the lair was thinner here. Tiiu showed her
how to kneel and the words to begin a prayer at each of the shrines.
During a visit, it was important to pray to each one of the Seven
Goddesses to ensure you didn’t ignore one and invoke their wrath. That
meant praying took a long time. By the end, I’mya was disappointed
that she felt the same—grief still weighed on her—but she was glad for
Tiiu, who was visibly uplifted.
As the first week progressed, the mood in the lair began to shift.
Other kon’ayas’ gaze lingered on her longer than necessary, whispering
and hushed tones followed her in the corridors, and even the servants
watched her with interest as she traveled around the lair.
“Everyone is talking about you and the master,” Elora admitted
when I’mya asked her about it.
“What are they saying?” I’mya asked, apprehension gripping her
stomach. She didn’t want to have any problems with the other people in
the lair. It would mean being constantly on edge, like when she was in
the North cities, and it would make life unbearable.
“Different things—nothing horrible,” Elora said. “Some of the
kon’ayas want to talk to you, but Dayatha is telling them to let you be.”
“Why?”
Elora shrugged. “I think she’s trying to settle them—maintain a
calm environment.”
“So they’re angry?”
“I don’t think so.”
I’mya chewed her lip as she thought. “Do you think you could
arrange a talk with them?”
Elora’s eyes widened. “Do you think that’s a good idea?”
“We are all in the same position, Elora. The dragorai is just
entertained with me at the moment—I don’t want them to think I’ve
tried to replace them or something. And I have questions for them too.”
By that afternoon, they were all gathered in the library.
There were about fifteen of them in total, not including the group
that arrived with I’mya, and they were all quite different—a range of
ages, skin shades, shapes, height…. I’mya couldn’t see any commonality
between them except that they were all female, shapely, and had at least
shoulder-length hair. It was strange to know that the dragorai had
bedded the majority, but she pushed the feeling aside—they were all in
the same situation.
 They sat closely together in a closed-in area of the library that had
soft furnishings on the floor, allowing servants to read while lying down
or stretched out on the ground.
I’mya smiled, nerves jittering in her stomach as she approached the
group. They all smiled back, though were clearly curious.
“This is I’mya,” Elora said. “She’s really excited to meet you all.”
“We haven’t seen you around the lair,” an older woman with broad
shoulders commented, as I’mya sat down on the floor beside them.
“Have you been here as long as Syb and Nureen?”
I’mya nodded. “I spent most of my time trying to familiarize myself
with the lair,” she explained. “I struggled a little with…” She wasn’t sure
how to explain herself. “Everything. Adjusting was very strange for me.”
Many of the women nodded. “It is difficult to adjust here,” one of the
woman said. “For some of us it takes months.”
One of the ladies near the front leaned forward, a thin brow raised.
“How have you managed to capture master’s attention so quickly and so
completely?”
I’mya lifted her shoulder. “I’m not sure.”
“Are you aware that he never sees the same woman twice in a row?
Except you.”
I’mya glanced at Elora and Nureen. “I did hear that, but I don’t know
how true it is.”
“It is true,” said the one with the thin brows, and a few others
echoed her as they nodded. “Some of us have been here for decades, so
we know this is unusual.”
“What exactly do you do… in there with him?” one of the younger
girls asked.
“What do you think they’re doing, Dorel?” called another girl on the
other side of the group, who was rolling her eyes.
A titter of laughter fluttered from the group.
 “I know the general idea,” Dorel shot back. “But how does it work
with Master? Do you lie around on the table the whole time in
between… I don’t understand how you’re able to cope with lying there
for that long?”
I’mya frowned. “No, since the first night, I haven’t been on the table.”
There was almost a collective intake of breath as their mouths
dropped.
I’mya watched all of them, bewildered. “Is the table something he
always uses?”
They nodded. “So where does he have you?” the same girl, Dorel
asked.
“On the bed mostly,” I’mya explained. “Sometimes against the wall,
sometimes on the floor… It just depends.”
“This is highly irregular for Master,” one of the women muttered.
She looked almost worried.
“But what about in-between,” Dorel pressed. “Is it awkward while
you wait for the next round? Do you talk?”
I’mya bit her lip, wondering what she meant. “Do you mean while
we’re knotted?”
A stunned silence followed; no one moved.
I’mya suddenly felt self-conscious, her shoulders tensing as she took
in their astonished faces.
Some of the women noticed and immediately began telling their
tales of their knotting experiences with other men in an obvious
attempt to make her feel more comfortable. Eventually they all laughed,
teased, and jested with each other about their sexual experiences. I’mya
relaxed and began to open up.
She soon discovered that it wasn’t just knotting that was unusual—
most of the things the dragorai did with her was a surprise for the
kon’ayas.
 “He actually licks you there?” one of the women squealed. “What’s
that like?”
“Don’t pretend you’re so innocent, Meleah!” another one of the girl
said, laughing and rolling her eyes. “Like Romet doesn’t live with his
face between your legs. You’re no Mheyu!”
The whole group laughed and Meleah made a face back. “Yes, but it’s
not Master’s tongue.”
I’mya chuckled with them, but heat rose up her neck. “Umm. I don’t
know how to describe it. It’s…”
When she couldn’t say anything further, one of the women leaned
forward and patted her knee. “You don’t have to explain to us, dove,” she
said kindly. “We’re just very nosey and we’re used to sharing
everything. It must be amazing.”
“Actually, I would like her to explain,” said Dorela, feigning being
affronted. “I want every single detail.”
The group laughed again.
I’mya smiled at them and exhaled a heavy breath of relief. “You’re
not like I thought you would be,” she admitted to them all. “I thought
you would be annoyed I was taking away your time with him.”
“’Course not,” one of the older women said. She had the rare accent
of one of the cities in the North. “Don’t mistake me, darlin’, we love the
attentions we get from Master, that’s the reason we’re here in the first
place, but it’s only part of our lives. We have other activities and talents
and things we enjoy doin’, and many of us have meaningful
relationships and even real love with other servants.” She leaned
forward. “An’ if I’m honest wiv’ ya, some of those servants prefer that
we don’t see Master, they don’t like the idea of that comparison.”
A few of the other girls nodded knowingly. “That has been a
frequent concern in my experience,” one of the other woman said dryly.
 “The only thing worryin’ for us,” the first woman said, “is what will
happen if Master no longer has use for us and doesn’t wanta upkeep
our lives here.”
“But Dayatha said that no one leaves,” I’mya said.
“Exactly,” the woman replied. “No one leaves… alive.”
There was a short and uncomfortable silence.
“I’m not sure why that would happen,” I’mya said, alarmed. “This is
just temporary. His interest in me is not going to last very long.”
Smiles flashed up on many of their faces, and a few of them
exchanged knowing glances. “Why do you think that?” one of the girls
nearest asked. “There is no reason to believe that this will be temporary
at all.”
I’mya frowned at her, but didn’t know what to say. Why wouldn’t it
be temporary? He had a whole lair of women at his disposal.
“Do you know what temporary means to a being that is almost
immortal?” she added.
I’mya lifted her head in understanding. “I see what you mean.”
“All we can do is see where his tastes and urges take us all,” another
girl said in agreement. “But, we can be as brazen as you like, so you’re
always welcome to talk to us about anything.”
I’mya looked over them with a new appreciation. “So you’re all truly
friends?”
“We are a family,” one of the girls corrected. “We do have
disagreements and arguments, as all families do, but there is no benefit
in us working against each other. We all have to live here, and we all
came here to serve and be safe. What’s the point in creating an unsafe
or worrying environment for us to live the rest of our lives in?”
All the girls nodded in agreement. “That’s not to say we’ve never
had someone enter the lair who has had that agenda,” she added. “But
Dayatha is really good at getting rid of those pretty quickly.”
 “But… you have sex all over the lair. Do you enjoy that?” I’mya asked
tentatively.
Some of the girls laughed again. “Thank the Goddesses that we are
able to,” one of the girls exclaimed, clapping her hands together and
holding them up.
“We don’t have to do that,” one of the older women said with a grin
on her face. “We choose to do it. Just as many of us choose to have sex
privately, or not have sex at all apart from the master. There was a time
when we all discussed whether we would prefer to keep sex private,
and we decided against it.”
“Why?” asked Syb.
“Firstly, it is an experience that we all share,” the woman replied,
“and when we do it publicly, we normalize it for those of us who have
negative or no sexual experience—those of us who never had anyone to
ask, who worry about if it’s ‘right’ or ‘safe’ to enjoy certain things. We
talk about it together, and Master has been kind enough to encourage it.
Also, it keeps us protected.” A few of the women nodded as she
continued. “Sometimes servants come into our lair and make all kinds
of declarations to one of us, but then make the same declaration to one
of our sisters,” she said gesturing to the group. “We like to know if any
of them are being deceitful.”
Nureen’s face dropped. “So sometimes they can be deceitful?”
“Since they’ve realized that we will talk, most have learned that
getting on the wrong side of a kon’aya will mean no sex with any of us
for eternity,” she remarked. “So that behavior has been minimized. It is
mainly new servants who need to be taught that lesson. But regardless,
it’s our way of life now.”
I’mya continued to talk to them until evening fell. It was eye-
opening seeing the lair from their perspectives. She learned that older
kon’ayas tended to transition from that role into another servant role, if
they were suited.
“Like Dayatha?” Elora asked.
One of the kon’ayas shook her head. “No, no one has transitioned
from kon’aya to steward yet.”
She learned it wasn’t often that someone was forced to “leave,” and
that the stewards were interviewing and watching applicants
throughout the lands before selecting them so that a group arrived at
the same time.
As dinnertime approached, one of the women rose to her feet. “I
must leave now, but it was a pleasure to finally talk to you, I’mya. Please
do not hesitate to ask us for anything you need. We’re excited to get to
know you.”
One by one the girls got up, offering the same until it was just the
new recruits left.
“That went better than I thought it would,” Syb remarked.
“What did you think would happen?” Elora said.
Syb shrugged. “I wasn’t sure what to expect. But at least we know
everyone is friendly.”

The next afternoon, Dayatha summoned I’mya to her room. The

steward had been bewildered by the dragorai’s constant request for
her, but had been supportive, offering her potions for exhaustion and
pain relief. They seemed to reach a level of tentative conversation
where they could be of help to each other. But I’mya wasn’t sure why
Dayatha wanted to see her. Maybe it was about her talk with the other
kon’ayas.
 Stepping into the room, she remained by the door. “You wanted to
see me?”
Dayatha was busying herself with her vine-like bookshelf. “Yes.
Please sit.”
As I’mya sat down, Dayatha picked up the yellow teapot with the
constant steaming spout that sat in the corner of the room and brought
it over to the desk along with its two matching teacups. “How are you?”
“I’m… well,” I’mya said hesitantly.
“I see you have been attending some activities and meeting with the
other kon’ayas.”
I’mya nodded as Dayatha placed one of the cups in front of her and
began to pour.
“Obviously you’ve been missing your studies with the other new
recruits because you’ve been with Master, but there are some things
you do need to know. I asked you here to talk about them.”
I’mya relaxed a little. She wasn’t sure what she had been expecting.
“The most important thing right now is your heat,” Dayatha
continued. “Omegas in this lair have the option to suppress their heats
or they can allow them to run their due course. Most choose not to
suppress.”
I’mya’s brows rose in surprise. “Why?”
“Many of them follow the teachings of the Seven, which suggest that
omegas should not interfere with their natural cycles. Suppression,
obviously, has certain risks, and also the kon’ayas prefer to be open and
honest about sexual activity, even if it means enduring their heat cycles.
It’s the culture of this particular lair to embrace it. ”
I’mya nodded, taking a sip of the fruity tea. She could certainly see
that.
“Usually, an omega’s heat is dealt with by a servant in the lair who is
relieved of his duties to spend time with the omega. There are specific
rooms where they spend time until her heat is broken. The servant is
allocated the task of caring for the omega during this time.”
“And what if the dragorai, umm, Master requests her?”
Dayatha shot her a wry smile. “Master has never requested anyone
before. He has always accepted whoever has been presented to him. In
any case, he has strictly instructed us to never to give him an omega in
her heat.”
That was a surprise. “But why? Surely an Omega in her heat would
be perfect for his needs?”
“He has never explained it, but I don’t think it would be,” Dayatha
said slowly. “He enjoys his kon’ayas on his own terms and omegas in
heat require an attentive alpha. He would not want to be obliged to
serve an omega over a period of days.”
I’mya nodded, seeing how that could be unattractive for someone
like him. “So is it just anybody in the lair that is allocated to the omega?”
“No,” Dayatha said, taking a sip of her own cup. “It can be, but
usually kon’ayas have established acquaintances, relationships, or
friendships with other servants who they have sex with regularly
anyway, and usually they like to pick their own person. It’s not always
the case that the person will accept the role, but there will always be
someone willing to take the spot.”
“But the omega heat is a breeding state,” I’mya pointed out. “They
are likely to conceive during that time, aren’t they?”
“That is one of the reasons why some omegas choose to suppress,
and why some servants may not wish to engage in the activity,” Dayatha
admitted. “If an Omega, or anyone one for that matter, conceives, the
child is given away.”
“What?” I’mya asked disbelief. She stared at her. “The child is
discarded from the lair?”
 “It is not killed,” Dayatha clarified. She seemed almost offended.
“Just given away to be cared for elsewhere. We cannot have children
here, obviously. You’ve seen the environment. Do you think it is suitable
for children?”
“Then why not just suppress everyone rather than have this
happen?” I’mya said. “There is a war happening. How safe can they be?”
Dayatha sighed. “Suppression has never been perfected, as I’m sure
you know.”
I’mya remembered that some of her faction had tried suppressing
their heat and ended up in a lot of pain. “But surely you have potions
and charms you have tested?”
“Yes, but the omega breeding state is so powerful and integral to her
hormones that it’s difficult to shut off that side of her,” Dayatha
explained. “Many suppressants make the omega barren, and that is the
good result. Most, however, cause a lot of pain, bleeding, and a
shortened lifespan.”
“But does being infertile matter that much to the kon’ayas if they are
living here and will never be able to have children for the rest of their
lives?” I’mya asked.
“Making them barren would also reduce their appetite for and
ability to be pleasured during sex.”
“Ah.” That would definitely be a problem. “All right,” I’mya said,
exhaling. “So what happens to the children?”
“They are given to the Mheyu.”
I’mya relaxed a little at that. At least the Mheyu were not affected by
the war and the children could grow up in a safe environment. Maybe
she should have thought about leaving I’yala at one of their sacred
temples. “And the omegas are happy with that? Their children being
taken away to grow up in a monastery?”
“They all know the risks,” Dayatha said. “As do you now.”
 “That’s not an answer,” I’mya said, smiling.
Dayatha sighed. “They can’t have it both ways, I’mya. Of course not
all of them are happy when the child leaves the lair, but they are
comforted knowing that they will be cared for by Mheyu guardians.
There is no safer place for them in the Twin Realms—not even any of
the other lairs.”
I’mya mulled over what she said. She was right.
“So, your heat will be coming soon,” Dayatha said carefully. “What do
you wish to do?”
“Suppression,” I’mya said immediately and without hesitation.
“Are you sure?” Dayatha was looking at her strangely.
“I’m not particularly attached to sex the way the other kon’ayas are.”
Dayatha laughed. “You probably have had more sex than anyone in
the Twin Realms. I assure you, you’re most likely attached to it.”
I’mya rolled her eyes playfully. After thinking for a moment, she
asked, “Then you think I should put myself in a situation where I could
have a child here?”
“Not particularly,” Dayatha said carefully. “But it could mean a lot of
pain. And if you lose interest in sex and Master doesn’t, you’ll have to
endure nights with him in a very different mood. Remember, you
cannot refuse him.”
That was true.
“Whereas… if you choose to have your heat, then Master will take a
break from you until it’s over.”
I’mya lifted her head, realizing what Dayatha was trying to say.
“If that’s what you want,” Dayatha added hurriedly. “I admit, I did
not think that this would ever happen. But now that it has, if you
wanted to take a break that would be a way for you to ensure he is
forced to select someone else for a few nights.”
 Yes, her heat could be her escape. And maybe if she was unavailable
for a while, the dragorai would go back to selecting some of the other
kon’ayas, and they could be a little more reassured about their place in
the lair. “I would have to select someone, wouldn’t I? For my heat?”
“If you prefer it,” Dayatha said. “Or I can select someone for you.
Someone who would be caring and gentle and who is experienced in
knowing how to give an omega in heat what she needs.”
I’mya almost wrinkled her nose. She couldn’t imagine anyone being
able to give her what she needed more than the dragorai, but that was
the whole point of this. She discarded the thought. Her addiction to him
had to be broken eventually. Why not on her terms? At least in her heat,
she wouldn’t be thinking about him. She’d be thinking about the man
tending to her… At least she hoped so.
“How long do I have?”
“The lair regulates omega heats naturally through the magic here,”
Dayatha explained. “It would be a nightmare to have all omegas in heat
at the same time.”
“I can imagine,” I’mya murmured.
“Yours will be in about three weeks.”
I’mya nodded. “I will see if I can choose someone in that time.”
“Good,” Dayatha looked pleased. “The kon’ayas will be able to help
you if you struggle to find a servant or staff member.”
“Thank you,” I’mya said as she rose from her seat. “I’m sure I’ll be
able to find someone in time.

As the next week began, after meeting the other kon’ayas and having
that discussion with Dayatha, I’mya tried to socialize more. She began
taking reading lessons in the library with Elora, Syb, and a number of
other servants in the lair—green-robed, blue-robed, and red-robed
men and women, who all had different jobs that I’mya didn’t even know
existed. From cleaning, to gathering and preparing food, to the upkeep
of the master’s dan askha to weeding the garden. There was a mixture
of men and women, various ages and different personalities. They were
all friendly, and I’mya found herself laughing for the first time in a long
time and not having to think about anything else. She couldn’t help the
pang of guilt at the thought of her enjoying herself while her family was
gone, but she tried to push aside those thoughts as much as possible.
She couldn’t change what happened, and she came here to live as her
family would want her to; safe, content, and happy. So that’s what she
would do.
The dragorai had other ideas.
One afternoon in the library, heat closed in on I’mya’s back and she
turned to see the dragorai hulking over her shoulder, peering at the
book she was holding.
She almost screamed in shock.
“What are you doing here,” she whispered fiercely. “It is not… I’m
not due to see you until tonight.”
“si kme bomkekh ‘et kvi ha si av” was the reply, but there was no
magic to assist in her understanding of it.
He grabbed the book she was holding and flicked through it.
“I was looking at that,” I’mya objected.
The dragorai simply put it back on the shelf, in the wrong place, and
looked at her. “ko’ nu ‘et bi pe?” His voice boomed around the library; he
wasn’t even trying to be quiet, and he still insisted on talking to her in
his native tongue.
I’mya scowled at him. She turned and walked to a new aisle and
began looking along the shelves. But when she turned again, the
dragorai stood behind her, leaning against the shelf looking at her ass.
 Out of the corner of her eye, I’mya saw the other people in the
library noticing them, slowing down once they saw the dragorai. “Why
are you here?” I’mya whispered. “What do you want?”
The dragorai said nothing, but the familiar dark hunger deepened
his warm gaze. He stepped toward her, and I’mya stepped back until her
back hit the shelf behind her. No. This was not supposed to happening
now!
“Umm, Lord…. Master…” I’mya suddenly realized didn’t know how to
address him. What were they supposed to call him to his face? She
didn’t recall Dayatha ever explaining that.
“Nyro.”
I’mya blinked in surprise. He had said his name! “Nyro,” she said
slowly.
A grin spread on his lips, and for a moment I’mya was stunned. It
wasn’t a smirk or a dark smile; the grin completely transformed his
face, and he was truly gorgeous. He held her gaze and she stared at him
transfixed, unable to drag her eyes away.
He leaned forward until his face was inches from hers. “I’mya.”
Her name on his tongue sounded rich and decadent, sinful and
delicious… A powerful thrill surged through her and she completely
forgot what she had been trying to say.
Nyro lowered his head farther to the base of her neck and then once
again scented her—running his nose up her neck to back of her ear.
I’mya’s knees buckled, and she almost moaned. Why did that feel
like such an intimate thing for him to do? Was this an alpha and omega
thing? Or was her neck just unusually sensitive. That was another thing
she had to find out.
Nyro chuckled and then walked away, leaving her clutching the
bookshelf and slippery between her thighs.
 That night, they didn’t speak; they didn’t tussle. From the moment
I’mya entered his chambers, she was on his cock. He didn’t relent all
night, and she didn’t want him to.
After that, he appeared randomly throughout her day to either scent
her or simply watch what she was doing. I’mya wasn’t sure which was
worse.
Once, he made her so nervous during an incredibly easy game of
Dao that she lost. He mercilessly teased her about it that night, thinking
she couldn’t understand him, but she made him pay for it by bringing
herself to orgasm before he could stop her. He was furious the rest of
the night.
Another time, he followed her when she visited the garden and
simply watched her. That night, all the flowers, vines and plants she had
touched and smelled, appeared in his chambers, decorating the walls or
in pots in corners of the rooms.
Another afternoon when a steward asked her to go to the crafting
room, Nyro stood with his arms crossed waiting for her next to a blank
canvas. Everyone else in the room was silently getting on with their
own sculptures and paintings, but I’mya didn’t miss their furtive
glances.
She approached him hesitantly, confused as to what he was doing
there, until he held out a brush and gestured to the canvas.
“No,” she said firmly. “I’m not very good at it.”
“gi si abnug kleshakh kle si kem. ’et pe gi dvaskha.”
A steward seemed to appear from nowhere. “Master said you
destroyed the painting on his wall and you must replace it.”
“That was my painting,” I’mya exclaimed, “that he took without
permission! I can destroy it if I want!”
Shock slammed into the steward’s face. But Nyro responded,
barking out a series of hard words.
 “He said… Um.” The steward looked between them, then took a
moment to compose himself. “Master would like you to replace it.
Refusal will incur consequences.”
I’mya mouth tightened, but she noticed the entire room had hushed,
all openly staring at the exchange. Grabbing the brush, she painted
furiously, slapping the paint on the canvas without any thought or care.
When the canvas had no empty areas remaining, she put the brush
down and turned to Nyro, grinning. “There is your replacement,” she
said, knowing it was an utter mess. It was worse than the first one. “I
hope you are happy with it.”
Nyro had to drag his eyes from her paint-sloshed breasts to look at
the canvas. And when he did, he muttered an incantation, forcing magic
into the painting. I’mya’s face dropped as the paint absorbed magic,
rearranging into a stunning abstract, glimmering with many shades of
all the colors she’d chosen.
“shaf lulo nu,” he said, lifting the painting from the easel. The echo
followed. “This will do.”
I’mya fumed as she watched him leave.
But things finally came to a head when she decided to go visit the
massage lounge. She tended to avoid it because that seemed to be
where the most sexual activity was happening in the lair. Probably
because it wasn’t just the kon’ayas who were naked, everyone was.
When she entered, there wasn’t much of that kind of activity going
on. One of the massage servants was bobbing his mouth up and down
on the cock of a man lying on one of the massage tables, but other than
that everyone else was getting a massage.
I’mya padded to the only empty massage table near the back of the
room where a lilac-robed male servant smiled at her and beckoned her
to come closer.
“Looking for a massage?”
 I’mya nodded. “Just a massage,” she said clearly.
He laughed. “Nothing happens unless you want it to in here,” he
reassured her. He gestured to the table. “Lie down on your front and I’ll
start with your shoulders.”
I’mya walked round the cloth-covered table and climbed on top of it.
Next to it was a little shelf filled with jars and bottles.
“Close your eyes,” the servant instructed as he poured a floral-
scented oil into his hands and lathered them. “When you leave here, you
will be completely relaxed,” he promised.
That was just what she needed. She sighed and relaxed into the
table, and when his hands rubbed into the base of her neck, his fingers
kneading her muscles in small circles along her shoulders, she exhaled
a long heavy breath.
He was certainly very good at what he did. He worked along all
areas of her shoulders until they felt loose and completely free of
tension. Just as he was pouring a different smelling oil, he gasped, and
the entire room fell silent.
I’mya opened her eyes to look at him and was shocked to see the
color draining from his face, his features morphed into a twisted,
deathly horrified expression as he stared toward the door.
Lifting her head up, she saw Nyro stalking into the room, a rage
hotter than anything she’d seen, pouring from every inch of him, his
face contorted into something so menacing she almost screamed.
I’mya’s heart jumped into her mouth as she wondered what had
upset him, but then she realized he was looking at the servant.
Stopping a few feet away from the table, he took a breath, his chest
expanding as his tan skin reddened. And when he exhaled, a cone of fire
flared out from his mouth across the space.
I’mya flattened herself onto the table, wrapping her arms around
her head and screaming as the fire shot over her back. It was so hot she
felt the radiating heat even though it was far above her skin.
As soon as the heat faded, she turned to look at the servant, hoping
he’d managed to escape, but he hadn’t. Half of his head and one
shoulder had melted away, the remaining flames still eating into his
flesh. He stumbled back against the wall, his blackened, charred clothes
and skin flaking and as he collapsed onto the floor, the remaining half of
his mouth still open in a gruesome silent scream.
Horror and fear slammed into I’mya and she froze, suddenly unable
to speak. Screams echoed in her ears and fragments of images flicked
through her mind’s eye as heat brushed her skin. She closed her eyes as
the horrid stench of burning flesh made her gag—both the memory of
it, and the presence of it. Strong arms lifted and carried her out of the
room. All she could do was curl up into a tight ball. Blood pounded in
her ears and no sound could penetrate while she was suspended in the
dread of the moment.
Finally, the thumping in her ears faded and her breathing calmed.
She found herself in Nyro’s arms, tight against his body as he charged
back to his chambers.
She refused to look at him until they reached the chambers,
conflicting emotions building that he had just attacked a man and killed
him right in front of her. It was horrifying that he could breathe fire just
like his dragon! No one had ever mentioned dragorai were capable of
doing that, but it wasn’t as if she was an expert about them.
As soon as they reached his chambers, Nyro threw her down on his
bed and roared in an outburst of fury. But I’mya was no longer in a state
of shock. She sat up on the bed and got to her knees as she watched him
pace the room.
“hul si ‘iguyo is a bnahakh ’et!” The dragorai was wilder than she’d
ever seen him. Every muscle tensed and bulged, his hands kept closing
into tight fists, his agitation bleeding into the air around him.
 “Why did you kill him!” I’mya said, bewildered. “You just killed him
in a room full of people! What did he do?”
“a gimnef bnum da bnahakh ’et!”
“I can’t understand you,” I’mya snapped. “Why do you refuse to
speak my language?”
The dragorai turned and walked toward her, his fury sending a
shiver down her spine. “I will speak your language just this once to be
sure you understand me and do not make this error again,” he said, his
voice so low and raspy it sent a chill up the backs of her arms. There
was something thrilling about hearing him speaking to her in her
language. “He had his hands all over you. No one should be touching
you. No one!”
I’mya frowned. “He was just giving me a massage. That’s what that
room is for.”
“It is not for you to have your bare skin handled by another,” the
dragorai bit out.
“So I’m not allowed to benefit from that room?” I’mya snapped. “Am
I the only one here who is restricted from using a room?”
“You will not allow anyone to put their hands on your body,” the
dragorai bellowed. “Do you wish for me to close that room so no one
can benefit from it or will you fucking obey?”
Obey? How dare he! I’mya glared at him, her own anger soaring.
“You just killed a man in front of me, in front of the entire lair. We came
here to get away from the war. Do you think—”
“Do not lecture me about any war,” he bellowed, lunging forward
until he was right by the bed towering over her. “I want your obedience.
Now! Do I have it?”
I’mya was shocked when she saw his face up close. His lips were
charred; blisters and red skin covered them, as if his own fire had
burned him on the way out. It had to be painful. “Yes,” she replied.
 The dragorai moved away from the bed, a low growl rumbling in the
back of his throat.
I’mya realized suddenly that he hadn’t touched her since he put her
down on the bed. That was unusual for him. Although, this was
probably the first time she’d seen him truly out of control.
She dropped down to sit on the bed. “Why are you so angry?”
Nyro paced as if trying to work off his anger. “No one touches what
is mine.”
“Many kon’ayas use that room,” I’mya pointed out. “They all belong
to you.”
He stopped in the middle of the room, the darkness of his glare
piercing her straight to her stomach. “You are the only one who shares
my bed. If I have to drench you in my seed, feed it to you until it is
oozing out of your ears, your nose, and your ass so that everyone
understands you belong to me, that is what I will fucking do!”
I’mya’s jaw slackened. So that was what he had been doing; marking
her as his property. Before she had time to respond, he marched to the
wide window and bellowed out words she didn’t understand. Then he
turned to her and chanted an incantation.
I’mya waited to see what pain he was going to inflict on her, but
once he stopped chanting, nothing changed.
A rhythmic whipping sound drew her attention back to the window,
and she saw his enormous black dragon approaching the window. She
watched in amazement as Nyro ran and jumped, landing on his
dragon’s back as it swept by before they both soared out of view.
I’mya stayed frozen for a moment while processing everything that
had just happened. He had been angry she tried to get a massage
because he didn’t want anyone to touch her. That certainly sounded like
he was being protective over her. But why? She was in his lair with his
servants. Why did he think she could be in some kind of danger?
 Sighing, she climbed off the bed and headed to the door so she could
find out what happened to the poor man who was burned. The
dragorai’s fire had penetrated his head in moments. The heat she’d felt
on her back was probably three or four hands away from her, and yet it
let off a blazing heat.
She turned the knob on the door only to find it locked. Frowning,
she tried it again. This was the door that they just came through and he
hadn’t locked it, yet it wouldn’t budge.
The other door was locked as well. Cursing under her breath, she
marched to the window and looked out for him. The bastard locked her
in here and then jumped on his dragon.
She clenched her jaw in annoyance—she wanted to check in with
Elora and the other kon’ayas to make sure they knew how sorry she
was about what happened. If she was stunned into shock from his
violence, she was sure the others were too. She wanted to help, to
explain, but there wasn’t much she could do until Nyro returned.
The sky turned a dark blue as the sun set over the mountain range,
when there was finally a knock at the door.
“Hello?” she called.
“I’mya?” It was Dayatha. “Can I come in?”
“The door is locked. Do you have a key?”
The doorknob turned and the door opened.
I’mya breathed a sigh of relief as Dayatha stepped into the room
tentatively, looking around. “Where is Master?”
“He jumped on his dragon and left,” I’mya said, irritation in her tone.
“Is he all right?”
I’mya gaped at her. “Is he all right? What about the man he killed? Is
he all right?”
Dayatha shook her head. “That was my fault, I should have known.”
 “Known what?” I’mya said her eyes wide. “He stormed in there
unprovoked and burned a man to death.”
“I should have paid closer attention,” Dayatha said miserably.
“What are you talking about?” I’mya asked bewildered. “How is this
your fault?”
Dayatha’s shoulders dropped, and for the first time I’mya saw her
without her usual confidence. Worry was etched on her face. This was a
woman who had seen a lot and who knew everything about the lair,
trying her hardest to keep things under control.
“I should have known he would be angry about this,” Dayatha
explained. “It is not unusual for dragorai to behave this way in certain
circumstances.”
“You didn’t know that I was going to go into the massage room,
Dayatha,” I’mya pointed out, but even as she said it she realized that
Nyro had been told where she was. And frequently. How else could he
have shown up wherever she was? She peered at Dayatha. “Have you
been telling him where I’ve been going?”
“Not me specifically,” Dayatha responded stiffly. “But the stewards
have been tasked with making sure he is aware of your activities.”
“And you didn’t tell me?” I’mya almost shrieked. “I just spoke to you
yesterday!”
“We do not serve you,” Dayatha reminded her. “We serve him. He
just wants to know where you are and what you’re doing. You’re one of
his kon’aya. It’s not unreasonable for him to want that.”
“Why?” I’mya said incredulously. “Why does he need to know that?”
“I do not question him, I’mya,” Dayatha said gravely. “No one
questions him. He is Master Nyro of the Vattoro clan. He only answers
to his brothers, if that.” She turned away from I’mya, clasping her hands
as she stepped toward the window as if looking for him. “But I should
have been more sensitive to his needs. I shouldn’t have underestimated
that, none of us should have.”
“I will leave you to make your apology to him, then,” I’mya said
bitterly as she made her way to the door.
“No!” Dayatha yelled suddenly. “You can’t leave. The door is charmed
to keep you in.”
I’mya glanced door. “What do you mean?”
“I believe he has placed incantations that prevent you from opening
the door, is that right?”
I’mya glanced at Dayatha’s hands looking for a key but there was
none. She scowled. “Yes.”
“That means, I can go in and out, but you cannot. He wants you to
stay in here.” She glanced at the door. “The charm may hurt you.”
I’mya’s nostrils flared. So she was his prisoner.
“Anyway, I’m not here to make an apology—at least not right now,”
Dayatha asked, the worried expression on her face returning. “How
badly were his lips damaged?”
I’mya frowned. “Badly. Why was that?”
“He breathed fire,” Dayatha said as though it was obvious. “Dragorai
fire is intensely hot—hotter than normal fire.” She lifted the jar in her
hand. “I brought this salve to help him heal.” She turned again toward
the window. “I wasn’t sure if he was too angry to see me.”
“He’s definitely angry,” I’mya muttered.
Dayatha sighed. “Then I’d better not be in his way.” She handed the
jar to I’mya. “This needs to be applied four times a day to help heal his
lips and throat.”
“I can’t apply it!” I’mya protested.
“Apply liberally and make sure you see it absorbed into his skin each
time.” She shot I’mya a look. “It would be good if he did not breathe fire
again while he’s trying to heal.”
 “So you can’t be in harm’s way, but I can?” I’mya asked.
“You’ve already been in harm’s way,” Dayatha shot back. “It takes an
intense amount of anger for him to produce fire. Did he harm you?”
When she didn’t answer, Dayatha headed to the door, turning when
she got there. “I will make sure everything you need is sent here,” she
said kindly.
I’mya was speechless for a moment. “Am I really a prisoner?”
“He will want to keep an eye on you. This will have unsettled him,
and he will want to reassert his claim anew… frequently.”
“How do you know that,” I’mya asked, her voice hoarse.
“I know much about the dragorai. It has been a long time since I’ve
had to delve into that knowledge,” she admitted, somewhat to herself.
“But I should have seen the signs.”
“What are you talking about,” I’mya asked irritably. “What signs?”
Dayatha held her gaze. “You need to talk to him about your heat. It
will be impossible for anyone to tend to you, even if he will not.” With
that, she left.
I’mya paced the room, irritated with Dayatha’s cryptic words. There
were so many things happening here that she wasn’t aware of, and it
frustrated her to be ignorant about her surroundings. But she didn’t
have the means to do much about it.
So she simply paced the room and waited for the dragorai to return.
 7

I t was the middle of the night by the time I’mya heard the dragon’s
wings again.
They woke her from an uneasy, shallow doze. She sat up on the bed
where she had curled up earlier. It had been torturous being in the bed
without him—her body remembered what was supposed to happen at
night and had prepared for it. Intensely so. Her nipples were so hard
they hurt, her slick had soaked the bed, making a wet patch where she
sat, and her need was unbearable. It didn’t help that his scent was all
over the bedsheets.
She watched as the dragorai jumped from his dragon’s back, soared
in the air and through the window, landing in the center of the room.
He marched straight for her, unbuckling his pants and pulling off his
tunic in a frenzy; his dark hair across his forehead was long enough to
rest on those gorgeous lashes. Everything about his expression
screaming his identical starvation, and he had never been more
arousing.
I’mya’s core clenched as he approached the bed and she scurried to
the edge of it and lay on her back, her legs eagerly spread in
anticipation of the deliciousness to come.
 She was not disappointed. He speared her with one brutal slam,
wild and raw, and fucked her with a ferociousness that made her toes
curl.
“Why did you take so long?” she gasped, burying her face into his
neck to get the pure, unadulterated scent she’d been craving. She didn’t
hear his answer.
Hours later, when every sliver of her body floated in sultry
gratification, the events of the day drifted to the forefront of her mind.
Nyro was wrapped tightly around her, his breath heavy and his face
against the crown of her head, his knot still stretching her wide.
I’mya shifted underneath him to try to reach the jar of salve, and
Nyro tensed. He lifted his head and pulled back, holding her steady as
he looked down on her.
“I’mya.”
His lips were still severely burned, but it was the look in his eyes
that captured her. She couldn’t read his gaze, but it was heavy with
something she didn’t understand.
“Don’t try to speak,” she whispered, reaching across the bed for the
jar. “I have a salve—”
Nyro sharply pulled her back under him, preventing her from
grabbing it but saying nothing. He simply watched her.
I’mya watched him back. There were so many things she wanted to
ask him, but she didn’t know where to begin.
It was clear to her now that her addiction had gone too far. She’d
spent every night for the last two weeks with him, but her reaction
when he was gone for only half a night had almost destroyed her. It was
as though she was going through withdrawal from sex, withdrawal from
him. Dayatha had been right—she needed sex, or him, much more than
she thought she did.
That put her in a difficult position.
 Could she let herself be addicted to a man who had so many women
to choose from? He may be enamored with her now, wanting to protect
her from any other man or from any danger he made up in his head, but
what about in a year? In ten years? In thirty years? She would grow old
and more kon’ayas would join the lair and capture his attention just as
deeply as she had. One thing the kon’ayas had in common was that they
were not emotionally attached to him. They adored and respected him
as their master, as a man who kept them safe, but none of them had this
addiction to him the way she did. She had to get rid of it… or accept it.
She needed to make a decision.
Her eyes dropped to his mouth, and she almost winced at the sight
of his cracked, charred lips. It had to be painful. Trying for the salve
again, he yanked her back underneath him.
“I want to help you heal,” she explained.
Nyro said nothing, his gaze never leaving her.
“This must be painful.” I’mya laid her fingers next to his mouth and
stroked his beard. “There is no need for you to suffer with it. Let me
treat you.”
But he didn’t let her move. His refusal to allow her to help had her
glowering at him, but he leaned down and pressed his nose against her
cheek. She stilled for a moment, before threading her fingers through
his hair. He breathed in and then exhaled, running the tip of his nose
down to her neck and did it again.
I’mya shivered, basking in the intimacy of it. “Do I smell as good to
you as you do to me?” she whispered.
He rose back up to look at her, his eyes soft and relaxed.
“If you allow me to treat you,” she said slowly, “then I will be able to
kiss you once you are healed.”
The dragorai’s eyes narrowed to slits and his gaze dropped to her
mouth. She smiled, then felt him still. After a moment he rose up, a
silent indication he was allowing her to get the salve.
I’mya applied the thick, herby-smelling, waxy substance to his lips
thoroughly and watched it absorb into his skin. “We have to apply this
four times a day.”
He moved his hips slightly, as if implying it should happen on his
knot; I’mya rolled her eyes. Their language barrier clearly wasn’t a
problem all the time.
She closed the jar and lay it on the bed, thinking how to broach the
next subject. “There was no need to lock me in here,” she said, watching
for his reaction.
Immediately, Nyro’s eyes hardened.
“I don’t appreciate being kept prisoner,” she continued, ignoring his
stormy eyes. “There was no need for it.”
“se mak el arad pe a.” His voice was sharp, hoarser than usual and as
he spoke I’mya could see inside his mouth.
“Does the fire burn inside your mouth as well?”
“si am tzo dragorai,” he said. “shaf Isy kvish pe ek.”
I’mya had no idea what he was saying, but he said the word
dragorai, so she guessed he was saying that it was normal for them.
“You don’t have to speak.” She placed her hand on his cheek. “Not until
you are healed. I will check with Dayatha and see if there is something
she can give you for your throat.”
He jutted out his chin. “si lulo lakh sira mesh, kmeyi zotz.”
The arrogance in his tone made her shake her head, and she knew
by now that kmeyi zotz meant fireball. “You are so stubborn.”
Nyro snorted and wrapped his arms around her again, cuddling her
close to his body.
For the next stretch of time, I’mya remained in Nyro’s chambers and
spent the next few days only with him.
 Mostly, he kept her pinned to the bed, underneath his weight or
secured with his knot. But sometimes he would call for his dragon and
he’d fly away over the mountain range, leaving her in the locked room
with nothing to do. He never stayed away as long as he did the first
time, ensuring that their nights together remained sweaty and
orgasmic. There was a desperation and a tenderness between them that
wasn’t there before. Nyro made it clear he enjoyed looking at her, and
she was expected to lie there and let him. But he didn’t just look. He
scented and nuzzled, and brushed his lips on her neck. He touched and
caressed, and trailed his fingers over her skin. The mood of their
blissful knotted moments was morphing into something tender and
affectionate that made I’mya’s heart flutter, and she enjoyed it more
than she liked to admit.
Stewards bought food and wine multiple times a day, and I’mya was
shocked at how much Nyro ate. It took two stewards to carry the
enormous trencher into the room, and it was piled high with an
assortment of dishes, fruits and snacks. Nyro always insisted she eat
first, but even though she ate her fill, she barely made a dent in the
portion. When she couldn’t eat any more, Nyro devoured the entire
board. I’mya watched in amazement as the food disappeared. And that
was just one meal.
Dayatha visited every other day to check on his healing and on
I’mya, which I’mya was grateful for. She had to mix a potion every few
days for Nyro to drink before he ate, to make sure his food didn’t
irritate or further damage his throat, as well as help it heal quicker.
Dayatha explained to I’mya that he was burned from his mouth all the
way down his throat, since the fire originated in his chest.
“It doesn’t seem right that he would be burned by his own fire,”
I’mya commented when Dayatha visited one day after Nyro had gone
out on his dragon.
 “It is healthy for a dragorai,” Dayatha said, almost sounding proud.
“It means he is well connected to his dan askha. It is one of the things
they both share.”
“Does his dragon get burned by its own fire as well?” I’mya
wondered out loud.
“Probably,” Dayatha said. “But ultimately he is an animal and has a
different make up. His flesh is not like Master’s flesh.”
“True.” She watched Dayatha as she measured and poured. “How is
everyone?”
“Doing well. They ask about you, especially Elora. She is like a lost
goose.”
I’mya had never heard that expression. “What do you mean?”
“She has no one to look after,” Dayatha clarified. “She is happiest
when she is being a useful and loyal friend. So she misses you. And she
wants to make sure you are well.”
That sounded like Elora. I’mya suddenly realized that Dayatha and
the stewards must have assessed and examined all the kon’ayas. They
probably knew them better than anyone. “Tell her I am well and I miss
her too. Hopefully, I can see her soon.” She hesitated. “Is anyone upset
about…”
“There are some who are,” Dayatha admitted. She straightened up to
look at her. “I’m not going to lie to you, I’mya. Some have concerns
about Nyro attacking one of his servants. They wonder if it means he
will attack the rest of them.”
I’mya chewed her lip. “I don’t think he will.”
“There is no way to know,” Dayatha said. “We just have to wait and
see.”
I’mya dropped to sit on the bed, her head low. “They all came here to
get away from the war. And now they are afraid they’re not safe.”
 “Not all of them,” Dayatha corrected. “And anyone who comes here
simply to get away from the war is not necessarily the right type of
person for the lair.”
I’mya frowned. “What do you mean?”
Dayatha pushed the stopper into the bottle and began to shake it.
“Before the war, the type of people applying to be part of a lair like this
would be those who truly respected and revered the dragorai. Those
who understood their history, the tradition of their culture, and how
they live. The roles here were for people who loved the dragorai and
wanted to live in service to them. Now, an overwhelming amount of
applications are people who just want a safe place to live, and an
endless supply of food, medicine, sex, and company. But that is not why
these roles exist. Obviously, the war cannot be ignored, so we look for a
balance, but anyone who cannot understand or respect what Master
Nyro is, and that he will have these seemingly unreasonable outbursts
when he feels it necessary, does not truly belong here.” She lined up the
pitcher and began pouring the mixed vials in. “Anyone who was paying
attention would have known it was coming,” she muttered under her
breath.
I’mya was already deep in thought. She hadn’t thought about it like
that. None of her memories had revealed she had known enough about
the dragorai for her to say she was there for any other purpose than
safety. She glanced up, noting something Dayatha had said. “Were you
here before the war started? It’s been going on for decades. I don’t even
know how long.”
“At least three or four decades,” Dayatha confirmed. “Yes, I’ve been
with this lair for centuries.”
“Centuries?” I’mya whispered in amazement. “How are you that
old?”
 Dayatha laughed. “That is not a story for me to tell right now. But
I’m not the only one.”
I’mya shook her head in disbelief.
Dayatha finally topped the pitcher with water and stirred the
concoction.
“If I wanted to find out more about dragorais and their history, how
do I do that?” I’mya asked.
“The library would be your best option.”
“But I can’t read. I was taking lessons, but now I can’t even do that.”
“Are you sure?” Dayatha asked. “If you can write, you can read, even
if it’s a little. You made your written application more than once.”
“Oh.” That was strange. “I couldn’t understand the books in the
library.”
“There are books in many languages and dialects in the library,”
Dayatha said. “Not all of them are marked, but you should be able to
find texts in the language you understand.” She leaned forward,
lowering her voice. “Since we both know that you have been able to
wield Thrakondarian, you may also wish to look at text in that language
too.”
I’mya nodded, her eyes wide. “Thank you.”
“I am always happy to encourage anyone to learn more about the
dragorai. It is a fascinating culture.”
“It’s not like I can simply visit the library, though,” I’mya said. “I’m
locked in here.”
“Speak to Master,” Dayatha said, packing away her bottles and vials.
I’mya shook her head. Dayatha would not understand about her
communications with Nyro. It would not be easy to simply ask him for
things. He did what he felt like and rarely listened when she asked him
anything.
 Dayatha paused and smiled at I’mya. “Much of what is happening
between the two of you is new to him too. Give him a chance.”
When Nyro returned, he sated himself with I’mya first and then
turned to the platter that had been left for him. As he finished, he sat
back in his chair and watched her in the bed, as he always did.
She rolled onto her stomach. “Do you think you could bring me
some books from the library?”
He held her gaze, a thoughtful look on his face, chewing and
swallowing his last mouthful. Without saying anything, he got up and
left the room. He was gone for a long time, but just as evening arrived, a
number of stewards entered his rooms. One of them took the platter
out of the room while the others began clearing some the furniture and
bringing in new items. They brought in a large bookshelf, a painting
canvas with accompanying paints, and embroidery materials.
“What books would you like on your bookshelf?” asked one of the
stewards.
“Books about magic, the dragorai, the history of the Twin Realms,”
I’mya reeled off. “The Order of the Seven, the Mheyu…” She squinted as
she wondered if she was missing anything.
“That’s quite a list,” the steward remarked. “There are many books
on these topics. Is there anything particular you are looking for?”
“Anything that is an introduction would be good,” I’mya said. “And
could you bring them in all the languages?”
The steward nodded and then left the room.
By the time Nyro returned, his chambers had a fully stocked
bookshelf, an embroidery table, a painting area, and a Dao board.
I’mya jumped into his arms. “Thank you!” she said excitedly. “I’m so
glad I finally have things to do.”
Surprise filtered into Nyro’s face. He looked over the room and then
looked back at her, thoughts clearly running through his mind, but as
usual he didn’t share them. He shifted her over to one arm and rumbled
out a few words, touching her lips first, then his.
I’mya narrowed her eyes. “You haven’t fully healed yet,” she said.
“You get your kiss when you are healed.”
Nyro scowled, but she just laughed. Until he hooked his head
underneath hers, nudging her chin with his nose so he could lean into
her neck.
She shivered as he pressed his lips against her. “Don’t try to trick me
into it.” She wriggled out of his arms and headed to the Dao table. It was
the most gorgeous board she’d seen. Made from beautiful wood and
thin streaks of precious metals, it had been decorated to perfection. The
matching figurines had been carved in excruciating detail. I’mya didn’t
know if they were an accurate depiction of Seven Goddesses, but they
were beautiful on the board. “Let’s play.” She beamed at Nyro.
A couple of nights later, I’mya tried to think of how to address her
heat. It was arriving soon and they had to discuss it. He could not keep
her locked in his chambers if he wasn’t going to tend to her during it.
I’mya was nervous about bringing it up. She wasn’t sure why, but she
couldn’t avoid it much longer—it didn’t seem like Nyro was going to
end her imprisonment in his chambers any time soon.
She looked up and saw the painting that Nyro had made her paint
had been placed on the wall right by the bed. When did he move that
there? She made a face and considered ripping it off the wall again, just
out of principle. She never quite got him back for that painting.
“gi tmo abnug bnum gi bnah,” Nyro growled from underneath her.
She sat straddling him on his knot as he lay on the bed watching her,
still panting and gripping her hips. The echo arrived shortly afterward.
“You will not touch that painting.”
“There are plenty of better painters in the lair,” I’mya snapped, her
anger flaring. “Why don’t you display one of theirs?”
 “I like this one,” he said, somewhat smugly.
“You just like torturing me,” I’mya remarked darkly.
“And you me, fireball,” he said, propping his head to one side.
“How?” I’mya demanded. “How in all seven hells do I torture you?”
“Your kon is torturing me right now,” he said, flexing his cock to
prove just how tightly her channel strangled it. “Your scent has been
torturing me since the moment I met you, and your beauty is uniquely
agonizing.”
I’mya swallowed as her irritation fled. She’d been unprepared for
that. “I don’t do any of that on purpose,” she murmured.
“Maybe not, but don’t deny that you very much enjoy teasing and
disobeying me at every opportun—” Nyro froze midsentence. He shot
up, grabbing her neck and leaning her backward, jostling her roughly
on his knot.
I’mya gasped, wincing at the roughness of his movement.
“’et kme ‘i’ir kve.” He spoke with both amazement and suspicion.
“You can understand me,”
I’mya had no words, but even if she had, his hand pressing on her
neck prevented her from saying anything.
“How do you suddenly understand Thrakondarian?” he demanded.
Eyes wide, I’mya tapped his hand, and he seemed to realize he held
her too tightly. She swallowed as he relaxed his grip. “I don’t
understand your language,” she breathed, “but the words… change.”
“Change how?”
“I don’t know how,” I’mya admitted. “It seems whenever you use
magic there is an echo that I can hear; it changes into a language I
understand. I don’t know how it works because I don’t understand
magic.”
Nyro’s eyes flicked to the bookshelf. “Is that why you have been
looking at books about magic?”
 “Yes, that is the main reason.”
“Can you cast?”
I’mya was unsure how to answer. She had created a shield but she
didn’t remember how she did it, so she said, “No.”
His hand slowly relaxed on her throat and then he removed it
completely, peering at her as though he had never seen her before.
“How long have you been able to understand me?”
“From the beginning,” she said with a slight wince. “But not every
single word, and when you don’t use magic I don’t know what you’re
saying.”
Nyro made a sound in the back of his throat and eyes drifted over
over the room for a long moment as he thought.
“I do like it when you speak my language, though,” I’mya added.
Nyro’s eyes snapped back to her. “And I will like it when you speak
mine.”
“Why do you refuse to speak mine?”
“My language is superior,” he said simply.
I’mya pursed her lips. Why she was expecting him to be any less
arrogant just because they were finally communicating, she didn’t
know. But at least she had his attention now. She took a breath. “I need
to talk to you about my heat.”
Nyro’s eyes return to hers, but he said nothing.
“It’s coming soon. I decided not to suppress it, but that means I will
need an alpha to tend to me. I haven’t had time to select someone—”
“Why would you need to select someone?” Agitation darkened
Nyro’s face. “We just discussed this. No one is to touch you.”
“I know you said that, but Dayatha said you don’t like having
omegas in their heat. I can understand that. So I can let you know
whom I choose—”
“You will not be choosing anyone.”
 I’mya paused. “So you want to choose?”
Nyro flipped her around on the bed, snarling as he pressed down
onto her, applying pressure to his knot. “No other man will be tending
to you.”
I’mya immediately snarled back at him. “It is cruel to leave an omega
in heat without any care! If you cannot tend to me, then I will need
someone, or I have to take suppressants.”
“No,” Nyro said firmly. “I will tend to you.”
“You will?” I’mya was quiet for a moment. “Are you sure?”
A smirk graced his face. “You think I will squander an opportunity to
have you crawling on your hands and knees, begging for a sniff of my
cock?”
I’mya grit her teeth as her eyes flashed. “That will never happen!”
Nyro chuckled. “You’ll have no control over it, fireball.”

The next day, after their morning meal, instead of returning to bed,
Nyro handed I’mya a midnight blue tunic. “Put this on.”
I’mya stared at it, then looked back up at him. He was getting
dressed too. She held up the tunic and looked at it carefully. It wasn’t
one of his; it was a fitted tunic for a female. “Why?”
Nyro shot her a look that suggested he wasn’t going to explain, so
she pulled the tunic over her head. Surprisingly, it fit her perfectly. She
hugged her arms around her body, savoring the feeling of being dressed
—it felt good to wear clothes again after so long. “Where did you get
this?” she asked, smoothing her hands over it. The material was too
thick for the lair—she would get too warm in it, but it was quality
material.
“I had it made,” Nyro said as he lifted her into his arms.
 I’mya gripped onto him, wondering what he was planning. This was
unusual.
Nyro walked to the large window aperture and bellowed out. She
couldn’t understand what he said, but within moments the rhythmic
beating of wings approached from above.
“What are you doing?” she gasped, struggling to get out of his hold.
But the dragon was already at the window. I’mya stopped breathing as
the creature loomed in the sky. He looked just as frightful as he had
before—his black scales sleek and glimmering, his jagged mouth wide,
and his enormous feet clawing the air.
A pulse of fear shot into I’mya, along with the returning certainty
that she shouldn’t be anywhere near this creature. “Nyro—”
Before she could get her words out, Nyro ran a few steps to the edge
of the aperture and launched himself into the air.
I’mya screamed and grabbed onto him, squeezing her eyes shut and
pressing her face into his shoulder. She had never seen him lose control
of magic or even miss landing on his dragon, and yet she couldn’t
control the fear that they were in danger. Her heart pounded as she
prayed to the Seven that they would not fall, then found herself gliding
through the air with him as he chanted under his breath.
He landed with a soft thump and then everything was still except for
the breeze that ruffled their clothes.
I’mya lifted her head and saw a massive mountain drifting away
behind Nyro’s shoulder. She glanced up at him and he was looking
down at her, a grin on his face. “You, who is not afraid of a dragorai-
alpha, is afraid of… air?”
I’mya would have scowled at him if she wasn’t so anxious. “I’m
afraid of a lot of things in this situation,” she breathed. “Falling being
the biggest one.”
 Nyro made a noise in the back of his throat. He lifted and turned her
so her back was against his chest, and then he lowered her to sit down,
fixing her on his lap.
I’mya remained frozen for a long moment, but the cocoon he
provided for her, the warmth of his chest on her back, his arms around
her, and the security of his thick legs underneath her helped her to
relax. It wasn’t as though she could easily fall off him.
Exhaling heavily, she lifted her head and took in her surroundings.
They sat between the shoulders of the dragon, at the base of his
massive neck as he soared high in the sky. His head lowered now and
then when he changed direction. The mountain range spread out before
them, vast and endless, made up of elegant shades of grey, blue, and
white. The cold, pure air sailed into her lungs and relaxed her as she
savored the freshness of it. There was a peace about the range that
seeped into her, an awe embracing her that could only come from
experiencing profoundly natural and untouched surroundings.
“It’s beautiful,” she murmured to Nyro, whose chin rested against
her temple. “Is this all yours?”
“Most of it, yes,” Nyro said. “What you see in the far distance are my
brothers’ ranges.”
She had forgotten he was part of a clan of brothers. I’mya couldn’t
remember how many there were, but if they all owned ranges like this,
then surely they dominated a significant part of the Twin Realms? It
was difficult to know just how much without seeing a map, and maps
hadn’t existed for years as far as she could remember.
I’mya slowly began to relax, leaning back into Nyro. “Where are we
going?”
“We are just flying,” Nyro said.
The dragon glided across the range at a gentle speed, tilting slightly
each time it changed direction. I’mya could hardly believe that she was
on its back, a creature so frightening and dangerous.
“Is this what you do when you leave the lair?” she asked him.
“Sometimes,” Nyro said. “Flying helps me think, and we frequently
have to check our territory anyway. But usually we hunt.”
“What do you hunt?”
“Anything he is interested in,” Nyro said, gesturing to the dragon.
“For a dragon, hunting is about sharpening his predatory instincts, but
for a dragorai-alpha it is about strengthening the connection between
them.”
“Do you enjoy it?”
“Yes.”
The rumors about the destruction of civilizations at the hands of the
dragorai jumped into I’mya’s mind, but she wasn’t going to bring that
up. Dayatha had a good point about being knowledgeable about the
history of the dragorai. I’mya needed to do more research before she
broached that topic. “What do you think about?” she asked.
Nyro’s arms tightened around her. “Lately, you.”
A thrill prickled up I’mya’s arms. “Me?”
Nyro’s chin brushed against her forehead as he nodded. “You.”
When he offered nothing further, she twisted to look up at him.
“What about me?”
He remained silent for a long moment as the dragon angled on a tilt.
“You are a very intriguing female.”
I’mya made a face. “I’m not that much of a mystery.”
“You certainly are. Your relationship with magic is highly unusual
for a lesser-mortal.”
I’mya hesitated. “I… I don’t have a relationship with magic.”
“You are not intentionally doing it, which is even more unusual. I am
glad you belong to me.”
I’mya glared at him. “Is that how you think of me? As your property.”
 Nyro glanced at her, slight confusion on his face. “Yes.”
When I’mya’s glare deepened, so did his bewilderment. “You are
offended by this definition?”
“Yes.”
“Why? You live in service to my lair and to me.”
“It reminds me of the history before the war… alpha and omega
slavery.”
“No one is in my lair against their will,” he growled. “Many females
would be pleased to be called mine.”
“You do have many females who are called yours,” I’mya pointed out.
The dragorai snorted. “So this is about jealousy.”
“It isn’t! It is about referring to me like I am a… a Dao board or a
painting or a piece of jewelry.”
Nyro thought for a moment. “This dragon is mine. He belongs to me.
I take care of his needs and make sure he thrives. There is no other he
belongs to. It is not offensive to call him that.”
“But he is a creature,” I’mya explained. “And you belong to him too,
right? He is bonded to no one else.”
“Then it is the same,” Nyro decided. “You are mine. I take care of
your needs and you belong to no other.”
I’mya let out a breath, shaking her head. He just didn’t get it.
“That is not true for the other kon’ayas,” he continued. “They belong
to many. You do not.”
“How do you know?” I’mya asked.
Nyro made a gruff sound at the back of his throat. “Every person in
the lair has been questioned. You haven’t fucked any of them.”
I’mya turned to look at him in disbelief. “And if I had?”
At that, he growled and shot her a dangerous look.
She turned back to the front, shaking her head. “And you?” I’mya
shot at him. “Who do you belong to?”
 “Me.”
I’mya rolled her eyes.
The dragon dipped slightly, lowering toward the mountains before
sweeping back up to continue his glide. I’mya sucked in a breath at the
swoop in her stomach.
Nyro chuckled. “He is in a good mood today.”
I’mya was surprised at the suggestion that dragons could have
complex moods. She thought they were ruled solely by instinct and
basic emotions. Regardless, she’d prefer he be in a good mood while she
was on his back. “What is a lesser-mortal?” she asked after a moment,
thinking back to something he said.
“A mortal who is more fragile and less capable than a higher-
mortal.”
I’mya didn’t bother to ask what a higher-mortal was—the
assuredness in his tone made it clear that he was one.
“Do you know if any in your family had higher-mortal blood?” he
asked.
At unexpected the mention of her family, I’mya’s face dropped. The
grief that had been lingering underneath the surface surged up and
stung her eyes. She opened her mouth and then closed it again, unable
to find the words to talk about them.
Nyro’s hand closed over her jaw and he leaned over to examine her
as he tilted her face up to his. His eyes darkened at the sight of her tear-
filled eyes, but he didn’t say anything for a long moment.
“A few days ago when I punished the servant,” Nyro began, “you
went into a kind of trance afterward. Why is that?”
I’mya swallowed. “I thought you didn’t want to be lectured about the
war,” she said tentatively.
“Is the war the reason for this reaction?”
 “Yes,” she said. “If I am unprepared for violence, then it can be a
shock.”
Nyro’s eyes searched her face. “And just now?”
I’mya’s voice was hoarse as she spoke, on the edge of breaking. “My
family died as a result of the war.”
“North or South?”
“North,” she said. “Have you been there?”
He nodded slowly. “I’ve been all over the Twin Realms.”
“Oh. You’re not affected by the war?”
“I do not involve myself in the matters of lesser-mortals.”
I’mya frowned at him. “So you just pretend it’s not happening?”
“It’s not my concern.”
“Oh.”
He searched her eyes. “I do not like to see you upset, though.”
“I didn’t expect you ask me about them.”
A strange look entered his eyes. In the bright light of the skies, she
noticed that his eyes were, in fact, a beautiful smoky grey. “Now we can
communicate, I will ask you questions, I’mya. I am very curious about
you.”
I’mya snorted softly. “Not curious enough to speak my language.”
The corner of his mouth curled up. “I was prepared to wait until you
learned mine. No matter how long it took.” His smile spread as he
added, “It’s not as though we had no way of communicating. There was
no rush.”
I’mya couldn’t help but smile back at him. His hand released her jaw
and his fingers stroked her cheek and then brushed down her neck. She
turned back to face the front, her whole body tingling from his caress.
Once I’mya relaxed, the flight was wonderful. The dragon dipped
and swooped and turned until I’mya was both squirming and laughing
at the odd sensation it caused in her stomach. When they saw another
dragon not too far away, Nyro explained they were at the border of his
range, and that it was his brother’s dragon. He talked about how
different all his brothers were but how they were united by the traits
that made them dragorai, and their dragons had the same kind of
kinship.
Feeing emboldened by Nyro’s obvious respect and care for his
dragon, I’mya wriggled off his lap to sit on the dragon’s back. She
reached out to touch his jet black scales and was surprised at their
satiny feel.
“I thought his skin would be scaly or hard,” she said to Nyro.
“Not where I sit.”
I’mya followed the satin scales along the dragon’s back and saw that
they were concentrated in a diamond shape at the base of his neck to
the middle of his back. “Was he born with—”
Her words faded when a sudden vibration rumbled up from
underneath her. She grabbed onto Nyro in alarm. “What is happening!”
Nyro frowned, as he placed his hand on the dragon’s back. He
growled, and bit out a series of words that had no echo. The dragon
responded with rumbles and mini-roars, but the vibration continued.
The deep rolling tremors sent shudders throughout I’mya’s body, both
calming her and stirring the delicious tingle that Nyro had roused. She
pressed both palms onto the dragon and was shocked when her nipples
began to harden.
With a deep growl, Nyro snatched her up and settled her back on his
lap. “You will not encourage him!”
I’mya stared at him, bewildered. “What do you mean?”
“He is purring for you.”
I’mya’s mouth dropped open. That couldn’t be true. Dragons didn’t
purr! She turned to look at the dragon and back to Nyro, astonishment
rendering her speechless. If it wasn’t for Nyro’s thunderous face, she
wouldn’t have believed it. “But how…?”
Alphas were known to have the most beautiful, soothing, and
comforting purr, especially to omegas. So… did that mean? I’mya made
herself comfortable on Nyro’s lap as she ordered her thoughts. Did they
adopt abilities from each other? Nyro could breathe fire like a dragon…
and his dragon could purr like an alpha? Why wasn’t that more well
known? She knew his dragon could still breathe fire, but did that mean
Nyro couldn’t purr?
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 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
trembled through her. She tensed, slick gushing 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 front 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, he roared 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 bury 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 immediate 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 was 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 desired. 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 normal lesser-mortal 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. The excitement and satisfaction 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 for 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 works if…”
 She didn’t finish her 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.
“I think it’s clear that there is definitely some other business today,”
Sethorn remarked. Sethorn was one of the more reserved and
organized of the clan. His strength was in planning, reading, and
strategizing. He was a unique asset to the clan, because those skills
were not usually paired with the ferocious dragorai temper. “Nyro,
Tyomar reported that you were in a rut.”
Nyro leaned back in his chair. “That seemed to be the case.”
“Were you or were you not?” Sethorn snapped. “It cannot be a
maybe. If you were in a rut, that changes everything for us.”
“I didn’t feel that I was,” Nyro said. “Not until Tyomar arrived, and
his presence was threatening to my omega in her heat.”
“Your omega?” Zendyor said in disbelief. “You were protective over
an omega in your chambers? And you’re not sure if you were in a rut?”
“He has had plenty of omegas in his chambers,” Tyomar remarked.
“Usually not in their heat, but he has many women, omega and non-
dynamics alike.”
“Not like this one,” Nyro remarked.
All the brothers looked at him.
“What does that mean?” Khyros finally spoke up.
Nyro took a moment to gather his thoughts. “This omega is
different,” he began. “She has a unique connection to magic.”
Everyone at the table became alert. “What kind of connection?”
Khyros asked, his voice tight. Khyros was the most talented in the art of
magic throughout all the Twin Realms. Nyro was sure that the
Goddesses themselves could not rival him. His incantations were like
spoken poetry, and he could cast seamlessly in all five dialects of
Thrakondarian. It was most strange because he was the one who spoke
the least. He was also the one unable to use magic to solve the mystery
behind his missing dragon.
“She is able to hold magic in her physical body. It causes her pain,
but it does not kill her or cause any long-term harm.”
“That’s not unusual,” Sethorn said, frowning.
“She is also able to access and manipulate magic without using
incantations, charms, or potions. She is unaware she’s even doing it,
and I’m unable to feel it happening.”
There was a moment of silence. “All right,” Sethorn said. “That is
unusual. Have you had her examined?”
“No.”
“Why not?” Sethorn returned. “You let strange women into your lair
and you don’t have them examined, even if they display strange
abilities.”
“This is the first one to ever do anything like this,” Nyro said. “And I
have been enjoying her.”
Sethorn rolled his eyes.
“In fact,” Nyro said, taking a breath, “I am here to inform you that I
will be taking her as a mate.”
“We cannot take mates,” Zendyor said tightly. “You know that.”
“Actually, I don’t,” Nyro shot back. “I know that we do not take mates
because there are no more dragorai females. I don’t see why we can’t
take a mate who is not a dragorai.”
“Because it is the same as taking a hollow,” Zendyor said, his eyes
blazing. A hollow was a dragorai born without a connection to their
dragon. When dragons were systematically targeted and killed, many
hollows were created. “It is disrespectful to our line to mate with those
kinds of beings, and we do not know what that will mean for us or our
dragons or our offspring. It could mean the end of our line before we’ve
even reached the crest of our lifespans. There was a reason why most
clans followed the law never to mate outside our own species, and
anyone who chooses to do so is affecting all of us.”
Nyro turned his gaze to Khyros. “I know this is what we agreed,” he
said evenly. “I don’t care. I will have her.”
Zendyor growled and Khyros leaned forward. “You have had many
women, Nyro. Centuries of women have been through your lair. Why
this one? Is it because of her connection to magic or something else?”
“She is extremely satisfying to me,” Nyro said. “Her connection to
magic makes her unique and makes her interesting, but even without
that I am plagued by her in many ways.”
“In what ways?” Tyomar asked.
“She is the most beautiful of all the women who have entered my
lair. She has an exceptional scent; it’s not flat like most—it’s layered,
complex. Obviously her body is to my taste, but also, she’s bold. She has
intensity and strong emotion. She fights me at every turn, then will
submit beautifully when taken in hand. She is curious and quizzical; she
pouts and sulks in a way I find very charming. She likes reading, being
in my gardens, playing Dao and—”
“All right,” Tyomar said, laughter in his eyes. “We understand. You
like her.”
“How do you know she is not using enchantments on you?” Zendyor
pointed out. “You said she’s skilled with magic.”
“She is not skilled with magic,” Nyro clarified. “She has a natural
affinity for it. It listens to her and aids her without her needing to direct
it.”
“What you are describing is practically impossible for any lesser-
mortal,” Khyros said slowly.
“I know. I asked her about her heritage, but she cannot tell me. Her
family died in the war.”
 “Which side?”
“North.”
“The North does tend to have casters who are naturally more
powerful,” Zendyor commented. “It would not be unusual for her to
have had family with higher-mortal blood, but even so, that level of
connection to magic would still be unusual. I don’t know why you
haven’t had her examined yet.”
“Examined how?” Nyro snapped. “She doesn’t know a single
incantation. She wouldn’t even be able to take the test.”
“And yet you have seen her commanding magic unwittingly?”
Khyros asked, his expression thoughtful.
“I cannot feel her use of magic. I only know because of the results.
Magic automatically translated Thrakondarian into a language she
understands without her doing anything. I didn’t feel that happening. It
was only through her understanding of my words that I realized
something had happened. At first I thought she understood
Thrakondarian, which of course would be almost impossible for most.”
All the brothers were silent for a moment.
“This is most unusual,” Sethorn said. “There are no writings about
this kind of connection, and the only beings I am aware of who magic
aids like that are the Goddesses. And she is not a Goddess.”
Nyro inclined his head. “No. But she behaves like one, at times.”
“What do you mean?” Tyomar asked.
“She was not afraid of me. She fights me and argues with me all the
time. She does not fear what I am, although she is afraid of Sanderyll.”
He thought for a moment. “In fact, Sanderyll behaved strangely with her
also. When I took her out to fly, he purred for her.”
All the brothers froze. Glancing at each other. Although their
dragons could purr, they usually didn’t. It was such an intimate
behavior reserved for soothing another, that the dragons had no need
to use it, particularly as there were no more female dragons.
“When I tried to use magic to stop him, he fought against it,” Nyro
added.
“San has been acting strangely,” Tyomar agreed. “He outright
attacked me and my dragon when I tried to visit your range multiple
times. It was as though he didn’t want me to be on the range at all. And
then the day when I did finally manage to get through, while you were
in your rut, he was more vicious than I’d ever seen him. Usually, he
doesn’t fight Ryndross, but they certainly did that day.”
Khyros rose from his seat and walked down the side of the table. It
was the first time he’d ever risen from his seat during a meeting before,
and all the brothers all watched him in surprise. “This is unusual,” he
said, muttering almost to himself. “But we cannot ignore the possibility
that she could be a hollow, or trying to infiltrate the clan, or was
touched by the Goddesses. Either way, we need to examine her further.”
“She will not be examined,” Nyro stated. “I came here today to
inform you that I will be bonding with her. It will happen regardless.”
“Regardless of my consent?” Khyros said sharply. “Regardless of all
of our consents?”
“Yes,” Nyro said. “I know it goes against everything we agreed to,
and that it may affect us in ways we cannot predict, but she is mine, and
I will have her the way I need her.”
“You will bring her to the temple to be thoroughly examined for her
suitability to the clan,” Khyros ordered, his eyes flashing. “I don’t give a
fuck what you feel for her! This affects all of us. You cannot just do
whatever you want with her.”
“I’ve been doing whatever I like with her for the past four weeks,”
Nyro bellowed. “I will not have anyone get in my way.”
 “You want children,” Tyomar muttered. All the brothers looked at
him. “She was in her heat,” Tyomar said, smiling wryly. “You considered
the possibility that she could be pregnant, and you like that.”
Nyro snarled at him, annoyed he put it together so quickly. “It is in
my nature to want offspring,” he explained. “That is not unusual for
dragorai.”
“It is very unusual for you,” Sethorn said, peering at Nyro. “Have you
not spent your entire life telling us that we should just enjoy ourselves
until we die? To not take on any of the responsibilities of the lesser-
mortals, do not concern ourselves with their affairs or needs or issues?
This is the opposite of that.”
“I don’t see how,” Nyro said hotly. “She will simply be my bonded
mate, living with me in my lair. She does not represent all lesser-
mortals.”
“Of course she does,” Sethorn snorted. “What do you think will
happen when everyone realizes that one of us has mated into a lower
class? They will all seek to encourage us to do the same with them. This
woman represents how we are viewed, and the value the people place
upon us. You cannot just take the weight of that and ignore it because
she has a sweet kon you want to fuck a little longer.”
Nyro got up, his fury blazing. “You insult her again and your tongue
will be writhing on this table before you finish a sentence.”
“He is possessive of her too,” Sethorn noted to his brothers.
“Fuck you,” Nyro bellowed at him.
“Let me check with the Mheyu,” Tyomar said. “Before we do
anything, let me see what they say.”
“The Mheyu may hold documentation and knowledge,” Khyros said,
“but they cannot make our future decisions for us. They only document
and record history for the Order, and they have all the limitations that
holds. We want to be making our own choices for our future.”
 “They may have knowledge of something we are overlooking,”
Tyomar pointed out. “We have never used them to make our decisions
for us, but they are experts in history. Our history. And a big part of our
culture.”
Khyros inclined his head thoughtfully. “True. Alright, see if they have
any guidance.” He turned to Nyro. “In the meantime, we cannot make
rash decisions based on instincts.”
“We are dragorai!” Nyro roared. “Everything we do is based on
instinct.”
“Nyro,” Khyros said, coming to a stop by his chair. “You must bring
her here to the clan. There is no way you can bond with her without us
meeting her. If she is as important to you as you say, we will take that
into consideration. But it is not something you can do on your own. You
cannot be selfish in this.”
Nyro rose to his feet, anger and indignance burning through him.
Turning, he stormed out. He would not be told how to live his life. Yes,
he was part of a clan, but who he chose as his mate was none of his
brothers’ concern. He would do what he felt was necessary, and
everyone would have to accept it.
 9

Somewhere in the North cities

Two years ago

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

“Rise, I’mya,” said the king. “I am pleased to meet you and your
sister.”
“I was surprised to hear that you were searching for us,” I’mya said
upon rising. “I wasn’t aware you knew anything about individuals in all
the different factions.”
“You would be surprised what I know,” the king said, smiling. “This
is my Dominion after all.”
I’mya bowed her head. “Of course. I don’t mean to suggest anything
else. It’s just that I know your main concern is protecting us and not
necessarily knowing about each individual citizen.”
“Normally that would be true,” the king said. “However I hear great
things about you, and I’m sure you want the opportunity to hear me
out? I can offer you and your sister safety and wealth.”
 I’mya could do nothing but incline her head. He might be able to
offer it, but at what cost?
“But first,” the king said, giving I’yala a pointed look. “I think we
should eat.”
I’mya’s stomach grumbled at the suggestion, but she hoped the king
didn’t hear it. “That would be very kind of you,” she said quietly. “We
have not eaten in some time.”
The king turned and gestured to one of his courtiers nearby. “Show
them to their quarters and then once they are ready to bring them to
the dining room,” he instructed. He turned back to the sisters. “I look
forward to seeing you later.”

“I don’t like him,” I’yala declared.

“We’ve only been here for an evening,” I’mya said. “That’s not
enough time to decide if you like someone or not.”
“It is,” I’yala decided. “He is in a lot of pain.”
I’mya frowned. “First of all, how do you know that?”
“It’s in his eyes,” I’yala said, shrugging. “Mama taught me to look for
someone’s pain.”
I’mya nodded, remembering their mother’s theory that searching
for someone’s pain could be the key to protecting yourself against them.
“Secondly, just because he is in pain doesn’t mean you shouldn’t like
him. I’m sure Mama would say that it means he deserves our support.”
“No,” I’yala said. That was all she was willing to offer to the
conversation.
I’mya sighed. “Are you happy you ate today?”
I’yala dropped her hands and looked up. “Yes,” she said solemnly. “I
am happy that we both ate.”
 I’mya smiled at her. Recently I’yala had become increasingly
concerned about I’mya not eating, so much so that she began to steal,
which was not something that was dealt with well by their faction.
“Then I think it’s time to sleep.”
She helped her get ready for bed, both of them amazed at the bath
they’d been provided and even more amazed at having warm water.
She bathed I’yala thoroughly, rinsed her hair and after the bath
played with her until she was yawning. As soon as she was fast asleep,
I’mya changed and bathed herself and then quietly left the room.
“Are you ready, ma’am,” the courtier asked.
I’mya almost laughed as she nodded. She never been called ma’am
before. He led her down to the king’s office.
The king looked incredibly majestic. His thick, curly hair looked like
it was never out of place and his brown eyes were watchful. He was as
handsome as everyone said he was, clearly an alpha with an enormous
amount of confidence. Based on how long the war had been ongoing, he
had to be at least eighty winters old, but he didn’t look it. It looked like
he was in his thirties. Then again, I’mya never trusted the age of anyone
who could use magic to the degree that the king could.
She was only here because I’yala needed to eat. As much as I’mya
had tried to feed her sister first, they had completely run out of
reserves, and it had been three days since their last meal. It was never
clear to I’mya whether the king was the one who’d begun the war, but
he was certainly heavily invested in it.
“Please,” the king said, gesturing to the chair opposite his desk. “Join
me.”
One of his men in the room offered her wine, but she shook her
head.
“I know you were only here to find out why I have been looking for
you,” the king said. “I won’t waste your time. I believe you can end the
war.”
I’mya made a face before she realized that she was in front of the
king. Schooling her features, she asked, “I can help you stop the war?
Surely you could stop it yourself if you wanted to.”
“Not without losing the North.” He leaned forward on the table “I
hear that you are able to detect magic, feel when it is present in the air
and the quality it holds.”
I’mya kept her gaze on him. She’d been able to do that since she was
a young child, and her parents had told her to hide that ability. “What
makes you think I can do that?” she asked evenly.
“As I said, I am very present in the North,” the king said tightly. “Just
because people may not see me does not mean I am not watching and
listening.”
“How is that ability useful to you?” I’mya asked. “You’re more skilled
than that.”
“I heard the ability has helped you a lot,” the king remarked. “You
have been able to avoid ember by using your talent, haven’t you?”
I’mya kept the smile on her face. He seemed to know a lot about
them. “And that is useful to you?”
“It’s not what you can do, it is what it represents,” the king
explained. “Your ability to detect magic means that you can cast more
successfully than anyone else in the lands. Potentially even more
successfully than me and the queen.”
I’mya stilled. Without moving her eyes from the king, she noted
where all the exits were in the room and began to consider how she
could get to I’yala and leave.
“You do not have to panic,” the king said slowly. “You will not be
dragged into this war.”
“You just implied that I may be more powerful than you and the
queen,” I’mya said. “I think that is certainly dragging me into it.”
 “I’m only offering you an opportunity,” the king said. “You do not
have to take it if you choose not to. I believe that you should want to
help your fellow Northerners. I won’t force you, but your life as you
move forward will be determined by this decision. If you choose not to
end the war, you are choosing to continue the life you have with your
sister, putting her at risk every day, living day to day, never knowing
when your next meal will arrive… keeping her in danger. What I’m
asking is that you give me a chance to help you develop the skills that
you would need to end the war.”
“What skills would those be?”
“You know how magic is accessed?”
I’mya nodded. “It responds to charms and potions.”
“That’s right. But the most powerful and pure way to invoke it is to
speak the language of the Gods.”
“I thought that language was impossible to learn?”
“For most of us it is. It contains five different variations of the same
language, all with different accents and dialects. It is an extremely
comprehensive language and one that is practically impossible to the
minds of mortals like us. But for someone like you, who can feel and
sense magic, the language should be easier for you.”
“How will this end the war?”
“Once you learn the incantations you need, then you can target one
of the dragorai-dragons.”
I’mya raised her brows. “What?”
The king shifted in his chair, leaning forward on his elbows,
capturing her eyes with his. “It will take the death of a dragon to end
the war, I’mya”
I’mya stared at him in shock. “You want someone to kill a dragon?
Are you crazy?” She dispensed with all pretense and protocol. This man
was insane. “The last dragorai are impossible to kill. Impossible. No
one’s been able to kill them,” she almost shrieked. “It is suicide to even
try.”
“For most people it would be,” the king said. “But not for you.” He
placed a stack of parchment in front of her. “They are ancient beings
from a time before the Twin Realms were even called the Twin Realms.
They are useless to us now, relics. But their extinction could end the
war.”
I’mya frowned as she looked up at him. “Why can’t you end the
war?”
“It’s not that easy,” the king said. “The dragorais’ existence is part of
the reason why this war is going on for so long.” He leaned against his
desk. “Do you know they could erase ember if they wanted to?”
“No,” I’mya said slowly. “I didn’t know they had that power. Why
don’t they stop it?”
“They have no interest in the lives of lesser-mortals. But they are
extremely powerful. They are the key to many lives being saved.”
“How?”
“They were made from magic,” the king explained. “They have magic
in their bones and it is the base of their bond with their alphas. Their
deaths would send shock waves throughout the magical plane and
change its essence forever. It would change the very nature of ember.”
I’mya put down the parchment. “What does this have to do with
me?”
“I would like to pay you to learn an incantation. I can also teach you
others, like ones that will allow you visit your parents in the ember, but
once the war is over, you will probably want to bury them.”
“How do you know about my parents?”
“As I said, I know much more about my Dominion and the people in
it than most think. Just because you don’t see me presenting myself for
people to fawn over like the queen does, does not mean that I am not
here, planning for ways to end the war.”
I’mya thought for a long moment. “How long do I have to think
about it?”
The king pushed himself back off the desk and went to sit down and
then leaned back in his chair as he eyed her. “Dragons fly around here
all the time. I need an answer soon.” When I’mya said nothing, he
sighed. “I will give you three days. Three days of food, a soft bed, and
safety with your sister. Then you can tell me what you want to do.”
“And we will be able to leave without any harm coming to us?” I’mya
asked.
“Absolutely.”
Three days turned into five, which then turned into eight. I’mya was
reluctant to remove I’yala from such an incredible lifestyle—one
neither of them had ever had. They had shelter, they had food, and they
had safety. I’yala could run, play, and scream and shout and she could
sleep without waking up panicked. In a few short days, she’d turned
into the child she was supposed to be, not the worried, gaunt adult in a
child’s body that she was forced to be. As the days passed, I’mya
couldn’t think of any reason not to stay. All the king was asking her to
do was explore her connection to magic. And if she could end the war…
She thought about her mother and father and the factions, all the
horrendous things that happened in the North. If she could end the war,
wouldn’t it be worth it?
On the tenth day, she told the king she would accept his offer and
began training and learning magic with him.
Learning magic was harder than I’mya imagined. The incantations were
sensitive to tone, intonation, cadence, accent, rhythm, rhyme, phrasing,
syntax, articulation, and stress just within one dialect; and there were
five dialects. On top of that, some sounds in the language were almost
impossible to create.
The king seemed to think it would be easy for her just because she
could sense magic, and he pushed her hard to learn the language
quickly. They argued a lot, both having outbursts when frustrated with
the other, but ultimately, I’mya was making progress.
After two months, the king led her up to one of the balconies near
the top of the tower. He gestured to the thick pillow placed in the center.
“You will do your focusing exercises up here,” he said, “where the air is
cleaner.”
The view from the balcony allowed her to see a vast amount of the
city. It was a mottle of grey and brown with crumbling buildings,
patches of wild moss, and clouds of ember hugging buildings and
blocking roads. It was a depressing sight. “What are focusing
exercises?”
“They will help you to enhance your ability to sense magic,” the king
said. He instructed her to kneel on the pillow and to focus on the magic
in the air around her, its quality, texture, all its nuances.
She wrinkled her nose. “But why? Magic has a bad smell.”
The king looked at her sharply. “Does it? What does it smell like?”
“Like rotting eggs mixed with sour lemon.”
The king frowned. “Is it… a smell you experience with your nose?”
I’mya thought for a moment. “No. I don’t know how to describe it.
It’s like a sense of it smelling bad.”
“And is it normal magic or ember that smells that way?”
I’mya shrugged. “There’s so much ember everywhere, I can’t tell.”
 The king was quiet for a moment, looking over the city. “Get started
and stay alert.”
She spent a few minutes holding her focus before I’yala interrupted,
throwing her arms around her neck. I’mya grabbed her and pulled her
into her lap, tickling her sides. “Hey, little ma’am. What happened to
your reading?”
I’yala laughed, kicking and wriggling. “The book is boring!”
I’mya feigned surprise. “How can a book of the royal court be
boring?”
“It’s all about the Order, and the Sayings of the Seven, and the
devout Mheyu, and their tireless devotion.” I’yala made a face. “Why are
so many books about the Goddesses?”
“That’s what they love to read here,” I’mya said, pulling her upright.
“At least you can read enough to know it’s boring.”
“When are you going to read with me?” she whined.
“You want me to be bored too?”
I’yala grinned. “I found one you might like.” She dropped her volume
mischievously. “It’s about ruts, and big alphas, and—”
“I’yala!” I’mya’s surprise was real this time.
“It was squashed between the other books,” I’yala said, shrugging.
“Well, since you’re reading such advanced material, I think your
reading level has surpassed mine!”
I’yala made a dismissive noise. “You can read magic. That’s better
than handsome alphas.” She spun around, twirling the green dress she
loved so much. She’d never had a dress like it.
I’mya smiled as she watched her. “I’ve got to concentrate ’lala.”
“Can I sit with you?” Her eyes pleaded. “I’ll be quiet.” She held up her
ragged, knitted, one-eyed, one-armed doll. “I’ve got my doll.”
“If you’re quiet.” I’mya shot her a stern look.
 I’yala settled in a corner behind her, and I’mya continued her focus
practice. After a long while, nausea seeped into I’mya’s surroundings. It
wasn’t quite a feeling in her stomach, just like the rotten stench of
magic wasn’t a smell in her nose, but it affected her nonetheless. She
didn’t usually pay this much attention to magic.
Rising from the pillow, she went down to the kitchens to request
some sage tea.
Just as she was finishing her cup, the king entered the kitchens.
“What are you doing in here? You’re supposed to be—”
I’yala’s scream froze I’mya’s heart in her chest, her blood turned
cold. She dropped her cup and ran out of the room before she’d taken a
breath. Racing up the stairs, she pushed all energy into her legs. I’yala
did not scream like that, ever.
She burst onto the balcony and I’yala was still in her corner,
scrambling backward against the wall, her mouth open in horror.
A huge, black dragon with shimmering scales hovered by the
balcony, its wings beating so loud the vibrations hummed in I’mya’s
chest.
“I’yala!”
Puffs of fire unfurled from the dragon’s mouth, aiming for I’mya’s
pillow, but at the same time, I’yala shot toward I’mya, right into its path.
I’mya screamed out in horror as her little sister was knocked back
against the wall, collapsing in a stream of fire tearing into her hair, her
face, her body.
I’mya tried to run to her, but a hand on her arm held her back. I’mya
fought, screaming for her sister, but she couldn’t get to her.
Finally, the fire dropped away and the beating of the dragon’s wings
began to fade. All that was left of I’yala was a burnt corpse, her leg and
arm falling into a heap of coarse black sand before I’mya’s eyes.
 I’mya screamed, hot anger and despair setting her alight. She called
for I’yala, unwilling to believe that she was staring at her sister’s body,
and when the hand finally let her go, she dropped next to her,
hysterical. It couldn’t be possible that the beautiful girl she had just
been speaking to—who she’d protected all these years—was gone.
She stayed on the balcony for hours, not allowing anyone to touch
her or I’yala as she raged and wailed and sobbed, but eventually, I’yala’s
entire body dissolved into the black sand, and she no longer existed.

I’mya didn’t allow herself to grieve. She held onto the fury, turned
herself hard inside and out.
She trained with her knives, barely ate or slept, and spoke to no one.
The king and his people tried to talk to her, but they didn’t exist. It was
her motivation to train as hard as she could, to become the person she
should have been able to protect her sister. Once, the king’s guard tried
to grab her, and she ran her knives ran through them in moments,
wounding them brutally. After that, the king let her be.
Rage was a hard ball in her chest, fierce and writhing, desperate to
avenge I’yala. Her sister did not deserve to die that way. She did not
deserve to be attacked by a monster, her last breath taken in fear and
pain and suffering.
A month later, I’mya was skin and bone, fueled by her blazing hatred
for the dragon, but the king had had enough.
As she trained in his magical battle room one morning, he used
magic to knock the knives out of her hands and pushed her to the
ground. She snarled at him as he stood over her, looking down at her
with contempt. “Your obsession with these weapons is pathetic and
pointless. Magic holds the real power, you know that.”
 “Can it bring back my sister?” When he didn’t answer, she screamed,
“Then I don’t want to learn your fucking magic!”
“Even if you can use it to kill the dragon?”
His words thundered in I’mya’s ears and she stilled.
His voice softened. “I can teach you. Your focus is much stronger
now. I know the dragon that attacked and I know where to find it.”
Trying to kill a dragon, especially a dragorai-dragon was suicide, but
what else was left? In all the Twin Realms nothing more remained for
I’mya. “You only want to kill the dragon to end the war,” she said to the
king.
“I do,” he admitted. “But is that wrong? It’s a worthy cause. Look at
what it did to your sister? It was unprovoked. This is the danger they
are to the Twin Realms, to the Dominions, to my people. They need to
be stopped!”
I’mya watched him closely. “You’ve lost someone too.”
The king’s jaw hardened and his nostrils flared. He lowered his
hand to her. “Avenge your sister, I’mya.”
After a moment’s thought, I’mya grabbed his hand.
 10

I ’mya woke, dread and horror souring in the pit of her stomach.
She turned in the bed, thankful that Nyro wasn’t there with her.
Tears already streamed down her face from the visceral and brutal
memory—the ringing of her own screams, the sight of burning flesh,
and intense heat from the flames. And in the center of it, the most
powerful of all, was the truth that stung in her chest; Nyro’s dragon had
killed her little sister.
She sat up in the bed, remembering all that had followed after she’d
accepted the king’s offer. He trained her for days, months to complete
one task. She studied the mountains and the dragorai’s use of servants.
That was why she thought she’d been in the mountain before—the king
had created simulations for her to practice in. When she’d first arrived
and ran from Dayatha, she had been heading to where the king had
thought the dragon slept in the dragorai’s lair.
The king had made sure she ate; he’d fattened her up until she was
healthy looking, fabricated the story of her background and made her
applications to the lair. He trained her to fool the interviewers, behave
demure and frightened and respectful of the dragorai.
When she had balked at the idea of entering the lair as one of the
dragorai’s bed servants, the king had told her that it was no different
from him buying her virginity, which many omegas did to get money,
safety or protection. He said if she was able to blend in and be mostly
unnoticeable, she probably wouldn’t have to bed Nyro before she
completed her task.
Of course, that was not what happened.
I’mya closed her eyes and took a breath. The truth was, she wasn’t
here by accident or mistake or to live a peaceful life in honor of her
family. She had come for revenge.
A soft echo of that ball of fury she’d nurtured arrived in her chest,
the feeling she’d used to propel every action she took. It wasn’t as
strong as it once was, and she could only guess it was because she spent
time grieving in the lair. She didn’t reject the grief like she had before.
She’d had Elora and the other kon’ayas to talk to and spent time doing
things which were enjoyable, even praying. Now she knew why the
Mheyu had refused her request to pray. The level of anger she had felt
at that time must have been powerful, and it had been charged with
revenge. It would have tainted the Goddesses’ sacred place, and a
Mheyu guardian would have been cautious about letting her pray
unaided.
But that feeling of unadulterated anger and revenge felt alien to her
now. She’d spent her whole time in the lair without that anger and saw
the lair through different eyes—as someone who didn’t remember the
war and her experiences of it. But that did not mean she didn’t still
nurse that rage or that she could ignore the memories she’d been so
desperate to get back.
The lingering aftereffects of her heat shuddered through her body,
reminding her of the depth of her involvement with the owner of her
sister’s killer. She got up, heading for the pitcher of water on the table.
The king had warned her that the magic used in the lair was
powerful, and in order to fool the stewards, he buried some of her
memories. But he couldn’t have expected she would forget all of them.
Clearly, the magic used to bring her into the lair had interfered with her
memories, because she had some kind of connection to magic that no
one else did. She had honed that as much as possible, but it was a
suicide mission. The king never expected her to return.
She drank the water, gulping it down until nothing was left. It cooled
her throat and slowed the fading vibrations of her heat.
Her mind whirled through the new knowledge. Her anger might not
be as strong anymore, but she had to consider what would happen if
she chose to carry out her revenge—or if she chose to do nothing.
Initially, she wanted to do this for I’yala and for all that she symbolized
—children suffering from the effects of the war, orphans who had no
one. Who was fighting for them? Who was providing for them? It was all
well and good to be hidden away, confined to the luxury of the lair, but
what about the people who were still out there? The children still
affected by the war, the ember destroying people every day? If that
could end right now, was she in a position to abandon her task?
A knock on the door interrupted her somber contemplation. “Come
in,” she called.
Dayatha peeked in, a smile on her face. “Your heat has broken,” she
said, pleased.
“Yes,” I’mya said, although she almost wished she’d never had it at
all.
She watched Dayatha as she collected the leftovers from yesterday
and set out a new pitcher of water and some food.
“We’re going to need to change those sheets soon,” she remarked.
I’mya glanced down at the sheets. They were stained with fluids and
stunk of her and Nyro. “This isn’t something you would normally do as
a steward, is it?” The king had been very concerned about the stewards.
He considered them skilled in everything to do with dragorai life and
culture.
Dayatha grinned at her. “No. But you are one of my kon’ayas and you
were in your heat. The fact that you are with Master does not change
my responsibilities. I am simply trying to care for you.”
I’mya nodded. “You know more about the dragorai than anyone else
in the lair, don’t you?”
Dayatha lifted a shoulder in a throwaway gesture. “I wouldn’t say
that. All the stewards have an in-depth knowledge of the dragorai. We
have to do our jobs well.”
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, drifting 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 toward 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, pinning 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
make a decision about her life. When had she ever had a say with him?
What exactly had she been expecting?
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. Nyro might
have survived that fall if he’d used magic to aid him, but he’d looked so
surprised.
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 familiar 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

E xcruciating 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 experienced 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 to combat whatever damage that had been
caused by hunting or other incidents, but this time it was impossible
with both of them so badly damaged. And it would be difficult without
knowing what kind of magic caused this. There were very few
enchantments that could damage a dragon this badly, highly
sophisticated ones, and he wasn’t knowledgeable enough about all of
them. There was only one thing he could do.
Focusing his mind, he began to chant, calling on magic.
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.”
“Everything is about the why,” Khyros interjected. “We cannot
determine whether this was about any of the things that we have done
so far in the Realm, or whether it was to do with Nyro specifically.”
 Nyro groaned, interrupting them. Their footsteps circled the bed he
was in. Opening his eyes, he could tell he wasn’t in his lair, even though
it was the nearest one to where he had fallen. “Sanderyll,” he uttered
out.
“He will be all right,” Zendyor said tightly. “We had to treat him with
multiple enchantments and dragon flame. From his bone up to every
scale and claw—everything required enchantment and treatment. It
took hours. Whatever enchantment was used on the two of you, it was
powerful, Nyro. He almost didn’t make it.”
As he spoke, Nyro reached out to Sanderyll and felt a faint flutter of
him. “Why is he so faint?” Nyro growled out.
“We had to put him in a deep trance,” Sethorn said. “If he’d been
conscious and experienced that level of pain, he would have died.”
Nyro nodded, clenching his teeth as he swallowed. At least it didn’t
hurt to breathe anymore. He sat up slowly, his body still aching, but
none of his brothers stopped him. They knew it would be pointless.
“Who was it?” Khyros said, his face solemn.
Nyro met each of their gazes. “It was my mate.”
“Your mate!” Zendyor spit. “What do you mean your mate? You do
not have a mate.”
“I started the process.”
Tyomar groaned while Sethorn shook his head, his eyes widened in
disbelief. “You went against what you were told?” he said slowly. “You
went against the clan?”
“I told you what I was planning to do,” Nyro growled. “You may not
agree, but I did not keep it secret.”
“No, you did not,” Khyros thundered. “And now she almost killed you
and your dragon! If you hadn’t been able to summon us, she could have
come after the rest of us with the same incantation and we would’ve
had no idea who she was or how she was doing it. I told you to bring
her to the clan.”
“And I will,” Nyro said.
Zendyor stared at him in disbelief. “You do not expect to still keep
this woman as a mate?”
“Yes,” Nyro said. He rose his head and began to cast, murmuring
under his breath.
“You shall not,” Khyros bit out, his fury palpable. “She is a threat to
the existence of the dragorai, and she will be treated as such.”
Nyro ceased his incantations and lowered his head to shoot his
brother a deadly look. “You will think carefully before you threaten my
mate,” he said with a deadly calm. “She is being used by someone else
who is the real threat to us. And it is up to us to find that person and
punish them. I will deal with her personally.”
“How do you know that?” Khyros said. “She is the one who enacted
the incantation. She is already powerful in her own right, and she will
be a constant threat to us unless she is eliminated.”
Nyro held onto the rage that threatened to burst through. “I know it
because I know her. She has suffered because of the war; she is easily
manipulated through her emotions, but that does not mean that we
should abandon or kill her. She will be punished, but by me only. She is
my mate.”
“Why do you keep saying that?” Sethorn argued. “Just because you
have a woman you enjoy fucking does not make her your mate.”
“I bit her and I knew,” Nyro said, recalling the moment he’d sunk his
teeth into her. “It felt like… connecting to a missing piece of a puzzle I
didn’t know was missing.”
His brothers glanced at each other.
“Do you remember why I told you about Sanderyll?” Nyro said to
them. “His strange behavior? It was while she was in her heat. He
prevented Tyomar and his dragon from coming too close to my mate in
her heat. He also did not want me to leave her to come to the meeting
while she was in her heat either. It took all my power to force him to
take me. He purred for her when she was on his back, and he detected
her in the mountains when she first arrived and tried to get to her. Do
you recall when dragons behave like that?”
All of his brothers stood dumbfounded, staring at him. The behavior
was well known in dragorai-dragon males toward their mates and their
omega counterparts. They were protective of them both.
“Are you saying she’s a dragorai female?” Tyomar asked slowly.
“How can she be?” Zendyor said. “She has no dragon.”
“That doesn’t mean she is not a dragorai female,” Nyro said. “I
cannot explain the behavior of Sanderyll nor her connection to magic in
any other way. She has a natural ability and affinity for magic that I’m
not aware of anyone else possessing. She is the key to us expanding our
clan.”
“But there are no more female dragons,” Tyomar stressed. “She will
never have a dan askha.”
“Then we do not expand the same way as we have done before,”
Nyro said. “But we can still continue the Vattoro clan, if that is
something any of you want.” He looked at each of them. “If we kill her,
then we truly will come to an end as a species.”
There was a moment of silence as they all thought carefully about
what he was saying.
“Regardless,” he said, “we must get her back immediately before we
decide what to do. It is much easier to make these decisions when she is
safe and in hand.”
The brothers nodded, Tyomar restarting his treatment of Nyro’s
wounds and Zendyor and Sethorn heading to treat Sanderyll. There was
no doubt that I’mya had committed atrocities against him, his dragon,
and the clan, and for those acts she would pay. Right now, he needed to
repair himself and San well enough so that they could go after her. And
then he would discover the extent of what she truly was.
 12

I ’mya sat on the bed in the room she’d shared with I’yala. It looked
exactly the same, except now there was no laughter and no sound of
playing in the background. She’d already visited the balcony where
she’d seen I’yala die. The scorch marks from the dragon were still there,
as was the doll that she had been playing with.
The king had been immensely happy with her explanation of how
things had gone. Of course, she hadn’t gone into brutal detail of
everything she went through with Nyro. It was painful to think he may
be dead, that the dragon he adored so much was also dying or dead. It
did not bring her any comfort like it might have before she’d gotten to
know them. She had betrayed him. Even though she hadn’t had all her
memories the whole time, it was still a betrayal. And she had caught
him by surprise, which was exactly what the king wanted.
She changed out of her tunic and dressed in more appropriate
clothes, layers of woolen undergarments, pants with a half tunic, and
thick boots, anything to protect her while she was out. She couldn’t
deny there was an emptiness inside of her. The idea of living in that lair
had become so appealing, the notion of being safe so attractive, and the
idea of being with Nyro… Before she’d gone into her heat, she’d chosen
to be with him—with no reservations. Shaking her head and pushing
the thought to the back of her mind, she made her way down to see the
king.
“Ah, my champion,” the king greeted, holding his hands out. “It is
good to see you looking your normal self.”
“I don’t think I’ll ever be normal,” I’mya murmured. “Has it worked?”
“We will know shortly,” the king said. Next to him was a wooden
book stand and on it sat an open book. “In the meantime, sit with me.”
He gestured to the spread on the table. It was not as spectacular as any
of the Nyro’s meals, even the ones she had with the other kon’ayas, but
it was certainly sizable.
The thought of the other kon’ayas made her stomach turn. “I’m not
hungry,” she admitted.
The king squinted at her. “I can understand that you are feeling
sensitive about what happened,” he said. “You used an incredible
amount of powerful magic, and I don’t doubt that you probably feel
unsettled. You slept for days.”
“It’s not just that,” I’mya snapped. “What I did was murder. I
intentionally killed another being.”
“But you know it was for a good cause,” the king said sharply. “It’s
not as if you did it for no reason.”
“We can see if that is the case when the war ends,” I’mya said.
The king shot her a look. “We talked about this before you left.”
I’mya sighed and dropped into the chair by the table.
“At least have some wine,” the king said. “You deserve it. You’ve been
through a lot and you are our savior.”
“I have some questions about how everything worked,” I’mya said as
he poured the wine in her glass. “I lost my memory for a great deal of
time I was there. I had no idea what I was supposed to be doing.”
The king nodded. “Yes, we had to temporarily block your memories
because of the methods they use to assess applicants. They would have
known that you could wield magic.”
“But why didn’t they come back to me straightaway? Why did it take
so long?”
“It is not an exact art,” the king said. “There could be many reasons
why your memories didn’t come back when they were supposed to;
conditions in the lair, other magical activity, proximity to the pure magic
that surrounds that place. It really could be anything.”
“But that made it so risky,” I’mya argued.
“If the war ends today, was it worth the risk?” the king asked,
irritation bleeding into his voice. “We discussed all of this, I’mya. You
were not this worried when you went in there.”
“That is because I didn’t care if I died trying,” she shot back.
“You care if you die now?” asked the king.
I’mya couldn’t answer that. Did she care? Even if the war ended
today and there was no more danger, no more fear, if she could live in
an environment that was no longer war-torn, would she want to?
Without her family and without Nyro?
Her eyes lowered as tears came to them. Nyro had probably been
the best thing for her since her family had died. He gave her a sense of
belonging and a sense of family within his lair. But why couldn’t he care
about something other than himself?
“I can see you may have reevaluated your decision about that,” the
king said heavily. “I am obviously glad you did not pursue that line of
thinking,” he said. “But you cannot be regretful of what you did. It was
for the right reasons. You have given me a significant advantage over
the queen and that makes you a hero and what you did heroic. Not a
murderer or terrible person.”
I’mya frowned. “I thought this was supposed to end the war
immediately? Not give you an advantage.”
 “It will,” the king assured. “But through an advantage in favor of the
North.”
Dread tickled down the back of I’mya’s throat. “That was not what
we discussed before.”
The king watched her closely, tilting his head as he spoke. “It was,
I’mya. You may not remember, but I told you I couldn’t end the war
without giving up the North. That meant I needed to win in order to end
the war.”
I’mya shook her head. “You didn’t say that explicitly.”
“I may not have phrased it that way,” he shrugged. “At the time you
would have given anything to get the dragon that killed your sister, so I
left out the details, and you didn’t ask for them. You seem to have
worked through your grief, and I am glad for you, but that doesn’t mean
that anything is different to what we agreed.”
I’mya shot out of the chair. “You said that killing the dragon would
immediately end the war!” she shouted. “That is very specific.”
“Yes,” the king said. “It will end the war, once I have the power to
capture the queen, kill her army, and take the South for myself. That
will end the war.” He leaned back in his chair and looked at her, almost
sneering. “You think I would want to end the war without winning?
What kind of man do you think I am? To give up would be madness—
this war has already been going on for decades. There is no way I am
going to have it end without being hailed as King of the North and the
South.”
I’mya stared at him, unable to believe what she was hearing. “You
manipulated my grief for my sister to get me to do this?”
“I barely manipulated you,” the king said. “You were planning on
doing this on your own, wholly unprepared, remember? With your
blunt blades that wouldn’t even score a scale on its body. You are the
one who drew the dragon here in the first place.”
 I’mya stared at him shaking her head, her eyes widened. “What?”
“You summoned it,” the king said simply. “You summoned the
dragon.”
“I didn’t!”
“Of course you did. What do you think that focusing exercise was
that I told you to do? You were subtly calling to it, and it could not have
resisted your call. I wasn’t sure which dragon would come, but I knew
you would summon one of them, and you were supposed to be
frightened and motivated enough by seeing one to kill it when it
arrived. But your sister got in the way.”
I’mya was speechless.
He sighed heavily. “She was never supposed to be on that balcony,
and you should never have left her there.” He shot her a regretful look.
“Her death was an unintended and regretful consequence. If I had
known she would come to you, I would have locked her in her room and
kept her out of the way.” He paused, shaking his head slowly. “But at
least she gave you the drive you needed to seek the dragon out and take
your revenge on your own terms.”
I’mya rubbed her head as her thoughts rolled over in her mind, her
memories replaying the events that led to I’yala’s death. “You never told
me I was summoning a dragon! I’yala’s death is your fault!”
“I didn’t leave her on the balcony!” the king snapped. “If you had
done what you were told and focused on your training, none of that
would have happened.”
I’mya stared at him in shock at his attitude. He was ruthless. And he
had put her and her sister in danger. “How did you know I would
summon a dragon?”
The king leaned forward. “There is no one who can feel magic in the
air the way you have described, I’mya. It is clear that you have some
affinity to magic. And so do dragons. There are probably other omegas
like you, but you are the one I found first. You have some kind of
connection with dragons because you should have had one.”
“What are you talking about!” I’mya cried.
The king exhaled a heavy breath and got up from his chair. “I’m
tiring of this conversation,” he said bluntly. “Eat, don’t eat, you can do
what you like. You have done your job, and I’m grateful.”
She held herself back from launching at him. He was still a powerful
caster with guards in every room.
As the king got up, I’mya turned and vomited on the floor, nausea
rippling up and down her stomach. If she had summoned Nyro’s
dragon, she had been the one responsible for I’yala’s death. The dragon
had come to her, unable to ignore her call, and the king was saying that
it was because she should have had one? How could that be?
Her fingers brushed against the bite mark on her neck. Nyro said
she was his mate. She had thought he meant he was choosing her. But
what if he meant she was his actual mate? Wouldn’t that make her…?
Her mind was spinning.
After a few moments, the king walked to his book stand, ready to
cast the incantation that will end the war. He began chanting, and the
magic in the air twisted and turned. Before him, granules of ash began
to form, gathering into a ball of dark charcoal. Ash kept feeding into it,
getting bigger and bigger.
The king laughed, excitement and hunger clear on his face. “It’s
working!”
I’mya simply watched.
That ash was Sanderyll. Tears came to her eyes, and she lowered her
head, praying for forgiveness for everything she had done. Of course,
the Goddesses would not pardon her for killing one of their beings. But
she couldn’t ask for forgiveness anyway. After this, she wasn’t sure what
she would do, but she knew she had nothing left to live for.
 “What’s happening?” The king’s voice sounded alarmed.
I’mya turned to see that the ball of black ash that was gathering in
front of the king had stopped growing.
He looked up at her, his face contorted. “What happened? I thought
you said you cast the incantation perfectly and the dragon was affected
by the magical strikes?”
“That’s what happened,” I’mya said. “And I left. I didn’t linger.”
The king released an anguished growl. “Why isn’t it dead!”
He grabbed began frantically flicking through the pages of the thick
book open on the book stand.
I’mya tilted her head. So the dragon wasn’t dead? Did that mean
Nyro was also alive?
She turned and headed back up the stairs to the balcony where
I’yala had died. If the dragon wasn’t dead, then it could be summoned.
She knelt down in the middle of the balcony, rocking slightly on her
heels as she felt the magic in the air. It wasn’t like the magic in the lair, it
was stiff, sour magic that had been well used and well worn. But it was
what she had used before.
She began to seep her awareness into it the same way she had
before, hoping the dragon wasn’t too badly damaged to still come for
her.
She wasn’t sure how long she sat there listening for the beating of
wings, listening for anything that would indicate her chant was
working. But there was nothing.
“What are you doing, I’mya,” the king’s voice was cold. “Is there a
reason why you’re out here?”
He grabbed her arm and yanked her up to her feet. “Do you think I
cannot sense the magic that you are trying to use? This is my
Dominion!” His voice thundered through her.
 “Then you should know I’m not doing anything to harm you,” I’mya
said quickly. “I’m just trying to flex my abilities.”
“Summoning the dragon you tried to kill is not flexing your
abilities,” the king bellowed. “It is suicide for you and a problem for me.”
I’mya had nothing to say to that. She wasn’t sure she cared if the
dragon killed her or not, but she did know that she didn’t give a shit
about causing problems for the king.
Just as the king was about to yank her inside, he saw something
over her shoulder in the distance. He released her and ran back into the
tower.
I’mya turned to look.
In the distance, four dragons were coming toward the tower, getting
bigger as they approached. A breath caught in her throat. How many
brothers were there? Was Nyro with them? Had they come because of
her summons or because of the king’s use of their magic?
She didn’t know, and she wasn’t sure she cared. She just wanted to
know that Nyro and his dragon would live. There was no doubt he
would kill her for what she’d done, but that was all right. It was only
fitting that she joined I’yala. At least, in her own mind, there was some
honor in what she’d tried to do. And she was grateful that in her
lifetime, she at least knew the kind of pleasure that could exist between
an alpha and omega. So many did not experience that, ever.
As the dragons came closer, they spread out, flanking the tower.
There were men on their backs, and on one of them there were two
men, but I’mya could not identify them.
Fire and magic began raining down on the tower, shaking it to its
core. I’mya stumbled, grabbing on to the door frame as the whole
building shook. The jolts were so powerful, they sent earthquakes along
the ground in a circular perimeter. I’mya watched as nearby buildings
shook, and the ember that was close to the tower also jolted.
 But the king was not defenseless. Magic exploded in the air around
the tower, random bursts targeted at the moving dragons. The dragons
swerved to avoid them. They were quick and agile, nothing like the
smooth, gentle ride that she’d had on Nyro’s dragon. They twisted and
looped upside down to avoid the explosions in the air. She was
surprised that the alphas didn’t fall off.
With every explosion, ember sprouted immediately, clouds of
charcoal hovering midair. I’mya screamed a warning to one of the
dragons as ember sprouted just before it, but it tilted sideways,
swerving just in time.
Soon the air was filled with ember, and I’mya could see that the
king’s intention was to protect the tower with it. However, just as the
ember began to fill the sky, a stream of fire from one of the dragons
pierced through it, burning the ember into nothing.
I’mya stared at the disappearing ember in shock. Dragorai fire could
destroy it. The king was right. All the ember that had caused so much
damage all over the northern cities could be gone and loved ones could
be properly buried if the dragons got rid of it.
She watched in amazement as the four dragons burnt all the ember
in the sky, leaving the tower once again open to a full-blown attack.
Their attack on the tower increased until the walls began to
crumble. This was it. This was going to be when the tower was
destroyed, and the King of the North would see his end. I’mya moved to
stand in the middle of the balcony, trying to hold her balance. This was
where she was going to die.
She dropped to her knees, picking up I’yala’s doll and squeezing it;
she closed her eyes, waiting for the inevitable. But a whip of beating
wings came closer, hovering over her.
Opening her eyes she saw the dragon, the same one who had
hovered over her sister that day, the same one who had been
summoned by her magic, and on his back stood Nyro.
He looked glorious, dressed for battle in black and gold, matching
his dragon, his stance fierce. His face was contorted in both anger and
determination as he stared directly at her.
I’mya didn’t move. She looked up at him, expecting that he would
wield some kind of magical attack at her or allow his dragon to tear her
to shreds.
The dragon hunched its back and a stream of fire uncurled from his
mouth, heading directly at I’mya.
It was a fitting end. She would leave this life the way that I’yala left
it, in fire and heat. She closed her eyes.
As the fire touched her, she said a prayer for I’yala and her parents,
praying to the Goddesses that they were treated well in the seven
heavens.
The intense heat melted her clothes almost instantly and tore at her
skin, burning her so intensely it was like being smothered in hot agony.
But in the midst of that, her claiming bite burned hottest. A heat like
she’d never felt before erupted on the bite, and spread over her
shoulder, up her neck, and down her back. It covered her entire left arm
and scorched down her chest, over her left breast.
For a moment, I’mya couldn’t figure out why the intense burning
that spread from her bite was covering parts of her body, but the pain
became too intense. Darkness came for her as she tried to finish her
prayer, praying also for Nyro and his dragon, and all the women at the
lair.
Her last thought before the blackness came was of her sister.
 13

N yro carried I’mya’s steaming body to his bed and placed her down
gently. She had burned beautifully, just like how he knew she would, but
he could not be distracted by that right now. She was a betrayer, and
that had to be dealt with before he could allow himself to fall for her
again.
He summoned the stewards and barked orders at them to set things
in motion. The steward who was in charge of the kon’ayas, Dayatha,
took one look at I’mya’s body and her mouth dropped open.
“What happened?” she said. “How could this…. Does this mean?”
“Yes,” Nyro confirmed.
The woman’s mouth tightened. “I will sort everything out,” she said,
charging around the room to clear the space for her potions.
“Brother.”
Tyomar stood in the middle of his chambers as the flurry was
happening around them. He didn’t look happy about their battle, but
then neither was Nyro. The king had used his soldiers, who were
protected with magic, to shoot magical arrows against the clan. Nyro
had been completely unprepared for how sophisticated the king’s use
of magic was.
“How bad was the damage?” he growled.
 “A number of magical arrows hit Yorgynel’s underbelly,” Tyomar
said somberly. “The rest are working on him now. There were some
who hit Ornendor and Ryndross’ wings, and Sethorn was grazed with
ember, but those aren’t as serious.”
Yorgynel was Zendyor’s dragon. Nyro exhaled heavily. He couldn’t
let anything happen to his brother’s dragon because of him. They all
knew the risks when they went to battle, but this was different.
“I’ll come over to assist as soon as I’ve stabilized I’mya,” he said.
“You don’t need to,” Tyomar said. “We can deal with it.”
“I want to,” Nyro muttered. “I should be there. You all helped with
Sanderyll—we cannot lose any more dragons.”
Tyomar dipped his head and understanding. He gestured to I’mya.
“How did it go?”
“Exceptionally well,” Nyro said, proudly. “We just need to treat her
now.”
“Good,” Tyomar said, smiling. “I never thought you would be the one
of us to discover a mate.”
“I never thought so either,” Nyro remarked. “But… being with her is
unlike anything I’ve experienced. I hope it is something we can all
experience.”
“I doubt it,” Tyomar said dryly, looking over I’mya. “I’m still waiting
to speak to the Mheyu, but I’m doubtful that we will learn anything new
from what we learned last time. If there was something for us to know,
we would know it by now.”
The nearest Mheyu sanctum was on Tyomar’s range, and as such, he
had a direct line to the guardians there. They weren’t exactly an
enthusiastic associate, but having communications with them meant
that the dragorai didn’t have to spend their time scouring through
documents and learning history from centuries ago to put into context
now.
 “We have time to figure things out,” Nyro said. “I don’t think we
should rely on anything right now until we know how I’mya is able to
do the things she has done.”
Tyomar nodded. “I must warn you, Khyros is understandably angry.”
Nyro nodded. He couldn’t blame him, and he would have to face
whatever was coming. It was very likely that Khyros wasn’t the only
one.
“A clan meeting will be called a soon as Yorgynel is stable. Prepare
yourself,” Tyomar advised. He glanced at I’mya as he turned toward the
window and then jumped out.
“Pardon me, Master,” the steward said. “We need to move her to
somewhere dark and cool and empty, maybe one of the old rooms in
the lair where there are no windows.”
Yes, that made more sense. Nyro glanced around the room
thoughtfully. “Have you located one?”
“Yes, we just need your permission to move her.”
“You know the process?”
“Yes, Master.”
“You manage my kon’ayas,” Nyro said. “What do you know about
I’mya?”
“Only that she is different from the other kon’ayas. Her first day here
did not go that well, but we have been able to strike up a friendship
since then.”
“Why not?”
Dayatha thought back. “She lost her memory. She didn’t remember
how she got here or anything about her past life, not even her own
name. I cast an incantation to try to heal her mind, and she was so
terrified of magic, she ran away from me.”
Nyro nodded. So that was how she ended up with magic in her face,
and why she said she didn’t belong in the lair. He’d never even thought
to ask her about that day. “Do you know the process for I’mya?”
“I do, Master. I have done it many times in the past.”
“Good. We will stabilize her over the next few days and then I need
to see my brothers.”
“Yes,” Dayatha said. “You are welcome to leave it to me. She will need
specialized care for the first few days, and then time to rest.”
“I will not be restricted access to her,” he said firmly.
“No, of course not,” she said. “You will be able to see her any time
you want.”
Nyro nodded. “Then let’s move her.”

The clan meeting was a somber one, not that Nyro expected anything
less. He braced himself as he entered the temple. This was not going to
be an easy discussion, but he had his mate and as far as he was
concerned that was the most important thing about everything that had
happened. His brothers had been going on and on about ensuring their
clan survived—what could be more beneficial than knowing they could
mate?
All the brothers were there except Khyros, which had to be the first
time that had ever happened.
Nyro dropped into his chair. “How is Yorgynel,” he asked Zendyor.
“He is recovering well,” Zendyor said, inclining his head. “Not as
quick as Sanderyll, but we know San is smaller and more delicate.”
Nyro shot up in his chair, his eyes flashing at such an offensive
suggestion, but then he saw a smirk on Zendyor’s face.
“It is good to see you passionate about things again, brother,”
Zendyor said, a laugh in his voice.
 Nyro relaxed, shooting Zendyor a scathing look while Tyomar
laughed.
“Let’s begin,” Khyros said, marching into the room.
“What happened to the king?” Nyro asked immediately. The king
had somehow escaped their attack, sliding out from underneath them
among all the soldiers that he’d had attacking us. It was a coward’s
move, but Nyro couldn’t expect anything more from him. Even I’mya
had demonstrated her strong character and bravery by standing her
ground, prepared to face whatever was coming for her. “Where did he
go?”
“Reports are that he fled to one of the other cities,” Sethorn said. “He
has many buildings in each city. He’s been in that one now for the last
two years, but he could potentially cycle through them so that it would
be more difficult to find him.”
“I want him found!” Nyro demanded. “He levied an attack on my dan
askha. He declared war on us.”
“He has always been a threat to us, brother,” Zendyor said. “He is the
one who is in war with the omega queen of the south. He is the one we
have been discussing for decades since the war started. You have not
been interested.”
“I understand that,” Nyro said, his annoyance blaring through him.
“But I’m interested now.”
“That doesn’t mean you can dictate what we do next,” Tyomar said.
“We have a plan in place to ensure that we can eliminate the threat of
war to us. We can’t just move everything now because you are
offended.”
“I am not simply offended,” Nyro bellowed. “He attacked the clan.
Before now, neither of them had done this. And whatever plan you have,
why hasn’t it been executed? Why have you waited so long? This war
has gone on for decades.”
 “We were dealing with this as the four of us, with three dragons!”
Sethorn bellowed back. “Where was your support then? Were you and
Sanderyll helping to find a way through this? You wanted to stay out of
it and eat, fuck, and hunt to your grave. You could have been a
significant support for us to get the results we needed, and you refused!
You cannot decide now that because you are the one who happened to
be targeted that we must all drop everything we are doing to go after
the king, unprepared, unplanned, and with no idea what we may face!
We did that and look what happened to Yorgynel!”
Nyro couldn’t argue with him. He had been adamant about his lack
of support for the plans, which he’d considered pointless.
“I understand what you are saying,” he said tightly. “But I did not
expect for a lesser-mortal to have the arrogance and the stupidity to
attack us—to go such drastic lengths. The king is so insignificant, and
so weak, yet he found a way to get through to me through my mate.” He
glanced at all his brothers. “There was no way he didn’t know that I’mya
was unique. He taught her that magic, knowing she had the capability
to use it.”
“Yes, which makes him dangerous,” Sethorn said.
“And makes me wonder what else he knows,” Khyros muttered.
“Why wouldn’t he attack us, Nyro?” Tyomar asked. “You have always
said it, brother. In some ways, we are vulnerable. There are only five of
us, and we have four dragons between us. It is only a matter of time
before our weaknesses are found and we are eliminated. Your decision
has been to sit around and wait for that to happen.”
Nyro looked away, annoyance, anger, and guilt churning in him.
Nothing his brothers said was untrue, but he chose to deal with things
the way that he chose to deal with them. There was no reason to believe
that any of this would happen. “No one could have predicted that I
would find my mate,” he said. “That changes things.”
 “We know,” Sethorn said. “And we are glad that you are on board
with us now, but we must do things the way we’ve always done them—
in agreement with each other as a clan. We cannot run headfirst, no
matter how angry you are about it. I have been spending this entire
time trying to temper Zendyor’s enthusiasm to attack the king and
queen, and the same applies to you. We will find the king and attack
him when we are ready.”
“And to be clear, the queen is just as sneaky and arrogant and bold,”
Zendyor added. “It is both of them we must deal with.”
Nyro looked at each of his brothers like he was seeing them for the
first time in a long time. They all knew what they were facing as a clan
better than he did, and for the first time, he had to recognize that he
had been wrong.
“We need to know what your mate knows,” Khyros said. “No doubt
she was trained by him. She knows him, so she can tell us what he
knows.”
“She is not in a position to do that right now,” Nyro muttered. “She is
still suffering from the effects of the fire.”
Khyros frowned. “It has been a week. She should have healed by
now.”
“She has healed,” Nyro confirmed. “But she is… different.”
“She has no dan askha,” commented Sethorn. “She is bound to
struggle.”
“Bring her here,” Khyros ordered. “Maybe coming here will help.”
Nyro nodded in agreement. It had been difficult seeing I’mya the
way she’d been lately. Completely limp and unable to respond to him. At
first he thought something had gone wrong with the process, but
Dayatha had been completely certain of her methods, and in fact, I’mya
had reemerged stronger from the incident. Except it felt like she’d been
hollowed out. His fiery, snappy woman had disappeared. And he did not
know what to do to bring her back.
 14

H er prison was dark, and cold, and quiet.

That suited I’mya just fine. It reflected how she felt inside and out.
The room was oval, with charcoal-grey rounded walls and a mostly
rounded floor, more like a cave than a room. Pillows, sheets, and
bedding cushioned the floor, and she lay on them, limp as she
attempted to keep her mind as empty as possible.
Her whole body was bandaged, from her chin all the way down to
each of her toes, and moving was painful and restrictive, so she didn’t
bother. She already knew her hair had burned away completely—she
looked and felt nothing like herself.
Dayatha came in and out, bringing food, plumping her pillows, and
talking to her. I’mya never listened. She blocked everything out. She was
surprised to be alive, and that the dragon’s fire hadn’t killed her. Three
times a day, Dayatha poured hot, stinky liquid over her body, saturating
the bandages, causing a flaring pain beneath them, as if she was
burning alive once again.
It seemed a torturous procedure, but they didn’t question her or
make use of the pain she suffered. When Dayatha spoke it was
conversational, as if they were having another talk in her office. No one
questioned her, and yet they tortured her multiple times a day. It didn’t
make sense to her, but maybe this was simply her punishment.
Regardless, she would endure whatever she had to endure—it was
unlikely she would be alive much longer. She had been fooled by the
king into causing both her sister’s death and then attacking the most
lethal beings in the Twin Realms. She’d betrayed the other kon’ayas,
especially Elora, who’d tried so hard to help her fit in.
Now she was the prisoner of a man who was willing to hurt her, as
he always had. He’d literally burned her alive and then found a way for
her to survive so he could punish her again. She wouldn’t last long, and
she accepted it. Sometimes memories of I’yala or her time blissfully
knotted with Nyro would skip into her mind, but she pushed them
away. She didn’t want happy memories—she didn’t want any memories.
She just wanted nothingness until the end came.
She lost track of time in the room, but it seemed as though Dayatha
was entering every few hours to do something; poke and prod her body,
check her joints, examine the inside of her mouth, stretch her eyes open
to check her eyeballs… It was a constant examination. She also fed her,
starting with soups and liquids, and then moving up to more solid
foods. I’mya ate dutifully and didn’t say a word.
Finally, there was a time when the door opened and it wasn’t
Dayatha who entered.
I’mya saw his boots first. Lying on the floor on her side, they were
first in her view. Her mind remained blank as it always had, thinking
about nothing.
Nyro knelt down in front of her and gently pulled her into a sitting
position. He said something, brushing his thumb on her cheek, running
his palm over her bare scalp before he began to undo her bandages.
They stunk by now, soaked for days with whatever liquid Dayatha had
poured on her. She also hadn’t bathed or washed in all the time she’d
been in here. She was disgusting.
 I’mya closed her eyes, squeezing them tight as the cool air touched
her skin. She had to force herself not to listen to Nyro’s words, but she
couldn’t help but enjoy the tone of his voice. It was mellow and
soothing and bassy. It boomed in her chest and she clung to it, unable to
stop herself from sinking into the soothing balm it provided. She didn’t
deserve it, but she couldn’t help it when he was in the room with her,
touching her, his skin against hers.
Finally, all the bandages had been removed and Nyro lifted her up
and carried her out of the room and along a couple of corridors. I’mya
kept her eyes closed, her cheek against his chest, assuming the position
she had always enjoyed. She remained limp, trying to ignore the
sensations he aroused in her. His scent was even more spectacular than
she remembered, dark and rich, awakening something in her she’d
been starved for. Why was he always causing such a reaction in her?
Suddenly sounds began to echo around them, as if they were in a
large, closed-off cavern. Water lapped at her legs as Nyro lowered them
both into a body of water. He submerged them until the water was up to
I’mya’s neck, and then she opened her eyes. She’d been correct; they
were in a dark cavern that held hardly any light. The water reflected on
the top of the cavern, creating swaying rays of light. Nyro spoke, and
I’mya enjoyed his deep voice as she stared up at the ceiling of the
cavern. Then the water began to rapidly heat up until it was so hot, it
was burning her. She thrashed against Nyro’s grip, contorting herself at
the incredible burn he was forcing her to endure, but just as she began
screaming, it cooled just as rapidly until she was almost freezing. Nyro
lifted her out and took her back to the oval room.
He dried her carefully, dabbing her tight, stiff skin. Even though she
was no longer wrapped in bandages, I’mya didn’t look at herself. There
was no doubt she was scarred all over and she didn’t want to see the
damage that had been done by the dragon; it would only be a reminder
of her sister.
When he lowered them down to the bedding, she recognized the
smell. It was from her heat. Her old, dried slick and his seed were
splattered all throughout the blankets and pillows. The smell was so
strong that it hit the back of her throat, yet it was beautiful. She closed
her eyes and inhaled deeply, feeling the familiar stir in her stomach.
Nyro fixed her on his lap, her cheek against his chest, and he began to
purr.
The vibrations mumbled through her as if she were a dry, cracked
leaf battling against the force of a hurricane. She couldn’t fight it—the
rumble penetrated every part of her, seeping deep into her body and
soothing every organ, every limb, every patch of tight, itchy skin. Even
though she was already limp, his purr soothed her into a gentle, relaxed
state. She sighed, pressing herself harder against him, seeking even
more comfort from him that she knew only he could give.
When he brought the goblet to her lips, she drank the water, only
now realizing how thirsty she’d been. And when he lifted stew-soaked
bread to her lips, she ate it with relish, recognizing the various flavors
and savoring the taste.
She finally fell into a deep sleep on his chest, and when she woke
again, he was still there, still purring, still holding her and caressing her
back.
“Eat,” he ordered, bringing more soaked bread to her lips. She ate,
finishing all the food he had, and then she drank some water.
Nyro ran his fingers down her spine, caressing her shoulders and
brushing his lips against whichever part of her skin he could reach. His
arousal was strong in her nose, and it was impossible for her body not
to react. Her slick gathered, and the hair on her arms prickled in
anticipation. She tried to sink back into that dead calm, but it was
impossible now. She was too alert, too aware. Her body was too
stimulated.
She waited for him to slip his fingers between her legs or kiss her
neck or position her over his rigid length and push her down into the
sheets and do as he pleased. It wouldn’t be unwelcomed. But he didn’t.
Annoyed, she leaned back, lowering on the bedding as he watched
her spread her knees. The hunger in Nyro’s eyes intensified instantly as
they landed on the sight between her legs, his nostrils flared. He
glanced back up at her, and if looks could devour, she would have been
destroyed in an instant. He tucked one large hand under her ass and
yanked her toward him. Lifting just her ass up, he looked down at her
as he sniffed up her thigh to her slit, a rumbling growl signifying his
pleasure.
I’mya was already panting, but at the sound of his growl, she began
dripping. She balanced her toes on his wide shoulders, but when he
leaned forward and lapped his rough tongue across her, she almost lost
control of her body. She whimpered as she tried to steady herself again.
This time, he lowered his face and began to suck, nibble, and lick her
the way she wanted it; rough, with tender attention paid to her bundle.
The gratification spread over her whole body and her breath
hitched at the sight of her alpha feeding from her as she ground her
hips into his face. Her climax came tumbling along, fast and rough, and
she wasn’t prepared for it. Suddenly she was swept up in its rapture,
uncontrolled and frantic. Her limp body twitched as Nyro kissed her
throbbing and gushing slit, and as he lowered her hips, she was already
drifting into a peaceful slumber.
When she woke, I’mya was disappointed that Nyro had left. He didn’t
enter her, knot her or cuddle with her at all. But she couldn’t expect that
from him. She was lucky she wasn’t still being tortured.
For the next few days, the pattern repeated. Nyro lifted her into his
lap, fed her mostly stew or stew-soaked bread. He didn’t say anything,
just gave her water to drink afterward and cuddled her close to him as
he always did, stroking her skin as he purred.
Although she was sleeping better now, I’mya was unable to slip back
into the cold quiet she had enjoyed before. Nyro’s presence was too
provoking.
Once, after he had fed her, I’mya pulled away from his chest and
looked up at him.
“Are you feeling better, I’mya?” he asked, his voice low and rumbly
and his eyes roaming her face.
She blinked at him, wondering why he was talking to her. This
wasn’t how she expected him to treat a prisoner. “Why are you here?”
she whispered. The food must have been medicated. She felt
unnaturally heavy and drowsy, and her words slurred.
“I am caring for you during the transition, I’mya,” he said.
She didn’t know what that meant. “I thought your purr is a gift?”
“It is.”
“So why are you gifting it to your prisoner?” she asked.
A strange alarm entered his eyes. “You are not my prisoner.”
“I am one of your belongings,” she agreed. “But I also tried to kill
your dragon.”
He watched her closely. “Why did you do that?”
“He killed my little sister,” she rasped.
Nyro inhaled a sharp breath in.
She tried to lean forward, to rest again on his chest but he held her
back, preventing her.
 “When?” he asked. “How did this happen?”
“It was my fault,” she said, tears building in her eyes. “And the king.
His fault too.”
Nyro growled, deep and long. Strangely, it settled her.
He leaned her backward so he could look down on her face. “What
was your relationship with the king, I’mya?”
“It was like with you.” She yawned, trying to get into a comfortable
position to sleep.
Nyro froze, his face like thunder. “Did you fuck him?”
I’mya shook her head.
“Then how was it like with me?”
“He used me for what he needed.”
Shock slammed into his face. “I’mya!” he growled out.
But sleep would not wait, and within moments she drifted off into
another slumber.
The next day when he arrived in her little cavern, Nyro brought a
book with him. It was more like a stack of parchment, old and curling at
the edges, as though it had been hastily bound together to make a book
of sorts. He fed her the stew again, then water, and then pulled her to sit
in his lap.
“You will read this,” he said, handing her the book.
I’mya turned it over. “What is it?”
He didn’t answer, but I’mya noticed that the text was in a language
she understood, so she settled down in his lap and began reading.
It was about the history of the dragorai. It stated that the dragorai
were the creation of the Seven Goddesses, one of their experiments of
combining dynamics with a dan askha, or sacred animal, that would
help to guide the individual via their basic instincts. Dragorai were not
the only ones whom they created, but they were their most successful.
 The book went on to explain that their popularity and favor by the
Goddesses led to numerous various clans existing and dominating the
Twin Realms, and during this time their culture developed in what was
called the Dragorai Age. It was a bloody and violent time, but was one of
the fastest-growing ages in the history of the Twin Realms; many
advancements and discoveries happened in potion magic and verbal
invocations.
The text claimed that, of all of their creations, the Goddesses were
most proud of the dragorai and visited them regularly in the very early
stages of the Age. The dragorai worshiped the Order of the Seven and,
in reverence to their creators, established the Order as the dominant
faith over the many others that existed at that time.
The text began to get scarce and less well-written as it started to
cover the demise of the Dragorai Age. The growth of lesser-mortals,
who were smaller and weaker but more populous, created different
kinds of conflict for the dragorai. It explained that the lesser-mortals
began experimenting with perverse uses of magic on their more
delicate frames, intoxicating themselves and creating highly addictive
substances. One of them was a highly popular drug that could only be
created by acquiring the lining of dragons’ wombs. The resulting drug,
named claw, was an incredibly powerful aphrodisiac and inhibitor of
fear as well as gave the user more control over magic.
Once the lesser-mortals realized the power of this drug, female
dragons were targeted with an incredibly brutal focus. In retaliation,
war was waged on countless civilizations who were attacking and
murdering female dragorai-dragons. But ultimately, the lesser-mortals
were many, and they constructed smart ways to capture female
dragorai-dragons, who did not bond with their omega counterpart at
birth like the males did.
 At the time of the writing, all the females had died out. The omega
counterparts were permanently left without their dan askhas, which
made them vulnerable. It was unknown why the Goddesses did not step
in to help them, as many thought they would. Most of the speculation
surrounding why they didn’t was not favorable to them, and the
guardians of the Order, the Mheyu, had to isolate their work in
sanctums that were hard to access. The book went on to say that only a
few dragorai clans were left, and it was assumed that they, too, would
eventually die and the species would become extinct.
I’mya rested the pages in her lap, sinking into deep thought.
Although she had known that this dragorai clan was the last remaining
one, she hadn’t known why. She knew that there had been a Dragorai
Age, and that the dragorais had once thrived, but she hadn’t thought
much about why they died out. She assumed it was due to natural
causes. If it was the lesser-mortals who had begun experimenting with
magic and waging a war against female dragons for their body parts,
that was horrific. And if that was the case, she could understand why
Nyro and his brothers looked down on her and her kind, or may not
have any sympathy for the current war that waged in their Realm. Why
would they want to help the people who had so violently and
disgustingly destroyed their chances of existing? With no more female
dragons, they could not have children. Was that why Nyro tried to bond
with her? Surely it wouldn’t end well if they weren’t incompatible? She
thought back to every single time they were together. Were they really
incompatible? They had taken an immense amount of enjoyment from
each other. Was that why he wanted to bond with her?
She glanced up at him, unsure what to take from the text and how it
could be applied to them. “Is it true?”
He held her gaze. “Yes.”
 Her eyes drifted from him as she thought. “So why did you try to
bond with me then?”
“You are my mate, I’mya.”
“How can I be? I am not a dragorai female.”
“You are also not a lesser-mortal. That is clear.”
I’mya huffed out a breath. “If you hate lesser-mortals, why have you
been fucking us for centuries?” she bit out.
His brows drew together. “I don’t hate lesser-mortals.”
“Not even after everything that’s in here?” She held up the book.
“Didn’t you say you don’t care about our war? We’re good enough to
fuck but not good enough for anything else?”
“Do you think we would fill our lairs with lesser-mortals if we
despised them?” Nyro said, sharply. “That is not the case. All lesser-
mortals cannot be blamed for the actions of some. We have always had
a devoted following of lesser-mortals and they have put themselves
through all seven hells to protect us. We do not abandon them. If
someone is committed to the dragorai, we try to protect them and keep
them close to us. There’s no benefit in alienating every single lesser-
mortal.”
“But you don’t care if the rest of us kill each other?”
Nyro scowled. “I cannot be concerned with everyone and
everything, no one can. That is not the point of this discussion.” He held
her eye. “You told me that I use you.”
I’mya pursed her lips. She vaguely remembered saying that, but so
what? It was true. “Yes.”
Nyro was quiet for a moment before he began speaking. “When I
realized that my brothers and I would be the last remaining dragorai
ever, I decided I didn’t want to miss out on the best life my kind could
have. I believe I deserved that as the last of my kind—I still believe it. So
I focused on the most enjoyable things… hunting, surrounding myself
with lavish things, and sex. It was a life I enjoyed, and I wanted to
protect that until I died.” He leaned in toward her, his forehead touching
hers. “And then I found you, naked and delicious and holding magic in
your face. And I wanted to have fun with you, I admit. But then you
kissed me.”
I’mya’s heart began to pound in her throat.
“And I realized I wasn’t living my best life,” Nyro said. “I was living
like a dragon.” The intensity of his gaze made her stomach tingle, but
she couldn’t look away. “When I met you in my lair, you instantly
opened up layers of possibilities, complex emotions, needs and desires
that I did not anticipate. I had the urge to dominate you, and you did not
make it easy.” He lowered his chin as he looked into her eyes. “And I love
that. You challenged me in ways I had never been challenged—ways I
couldn’t be challenged because I didn’t care enough.”
I’mya swallowed. “But anyone could have—”
“No, they couldn’t,” Nyro growled. He lifted his head as he thought
for a moment. “Do you remember when you called me a coward.”
I’mya couldn’t help but smile. “You said you wouldn’t use magic to
see if I could overcome you.”
Nyro nodded. “And then you closed your eyes and rested on my
chest, and I couldn’t move.”
I’mya tilted her head. “You couldn’t move?”
“I didn’t want to disturb you,” he said. “You looked so peaceful and…
very captivating. You required my chest and my support, and I would
have stood right there for the rest of time to give that to you.” He smiled
ruefully. “You won. You overcame me in that moment. And you have had
many wins since—you just don’t realize them or think they are
important. But I do.”
I’mya had no way to respond. There wasn’t any argument that could
contend with the way he felt about his interactions with her. And in the
context of what he had previously been doing—living like an animal—
his interest in her was both unusual and long-lived.
When she had chosen to stay with him, before all her memories
came back, she was mainly hoping that he wouldn’t discard her, but he
had been taking her more seriously than she had been taking him. She
averted her gaze, unsure what to say; a sudden light, buoyant glow in
her chest made her whole body tingle.
He didn’t require her to say anything. His purr rumbled up again,
and he pulled her to his chest.
“So that’s why you wanted to bond with me?” she asked finally.
“Yes, but you are my mate, fireball,” Nyro said. “It is ordained, even if
I didn’t want it, it would be the case.”
Something about his assured tone settled her, but it didn’t make
sense. “But you just gave me a book to read about how you and your
brothers have no more females to mate with.”
“We have to speak to my brothers to get answers to that.”
I’mya’s eyes widened. “No.” She didn’t know how the rest of the
brothers would have behaved about what she did. She had nearly
destroyed a dragon. That wasn’t a small feat. And considering the all
dragons that were lost at the hands of lesser-mortals, they no doubt
saw her as a threat.
“They wish to speak to you anyway,” Nyro said.
“Why?”
“Because you are both a mystery and an opportunity,” he explained.
“I told them about your sister and they understand that you could have
been manipulated by the king, but they need to hear it from you. They
would like to know more about you, and they will have some answers.
If we go to see them, it will not interrupt your transition.”
“What is my transition?”
“That is one of the things that will be explained.”
 I’mya exhaled a soft breath, the weight of her dead calm lifting.
Maybe things would not be as bad as she thought.
After a few days, the door opened, but it wasn’t Nyro who entered.
“I’mya?”
“Elora!” I’mya exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”
Elora stepped into the room, grinning. “I wanted to see how you are.
Can I sit?” When I’mya nodded, she sat down cross-legged on top of the
bedding. “We’ve been worried about you.”
I’mya titled her head. “Who?”
“All the kon’ayas and staff.”
She frowned at Elora. “Do you know what happened… what I did?”
Elora nodded. “Dayatha has had a hard time keeping anything from
us,” she admitted. “We’ve been hounding her every single day since the
massage servant died. She doesn’t always share what’s happening, but
she shares what Master allows her to.”
I’mya frowned. So Nyro allowed the lair to know what she’d done—
attempting to kill his dragon and him? “Why would he do that?”
Elora shook her head. “What do you mean?”
“Why would he tell the rest of the lair I tried to harm him? Harming
him means harming all of you, doesn’t it? I betrayed you and the rest of
the women.”
“I suppose you could see it that way,” she pondered. “But that is not
how everyone has taken it. There is much rejoicing in the lair, I’mya.”
When I’mya stared at her, astonished, Elora laughed. “It has been an
incredibly joyous time. Sex happens in every corner of every room
now.”
I’mya laughed with her but was bewildered. “Why is everyone
happy?”
“Because Master has a mate,” Elora said. She took her hands. “Do
you know what it means that dragorai can mate? It means the
continuation of their kind, I’mya. Of course everyone is rejoicing!”
“We don’t know that,” I’mya protested. “We don’t know if I can
conceive with him yet.”
“We are all hopeful,” Elora said firmly. “And Dayatha seems to think
that it is only a matter of time.”
I’mya chewed her lip as she pondered what Elora said. “But I
thought most people were just here for safety, I didn’t realize they truly
loved the dragorai and wanted to see them thrive.”
“The dragorai are a significant, much-loved part the history of this
land, I’mya,” Elora said. “If anyone here truly hated the dragorai, why
would they be here? Safety or not, you can’t hide hatred like that.
Dayatha would have gotten rid of them immediately. And anyway, it
would be difficult to hide your dislike as a kon’aya. To have to serve the
master sexually and yet hate what he is would be difficult.”
“I did it,” I’mya remarked.
Elora scoffed. “No, you didn’t, I’mya.” She rolled her eyes and shot
her a knowing look. “You loved it. I could tell as much. You might have
been frustrated with him or confused by him, but there was never any
hatred for who he was that interfered with your attraction to him.”
I’mya thought for a moment. Maybe that was true. She’d hated
aspects of her interactions with him, but she wasn’t sure she’d hated
him for being a dragorai. “Did you know that dragons can destroy
ember?”
Elora’s brows lifted. “Can they?”
“I saw them do it. Their fire dissolves it.”
“So is that something that they can do for the North?” Elora asked
hopefully. “Can they get rid of all the ember so that’s not so dangerous
for the people?”
I’mya shook her head. “Nyro doesn’t want anything to do with the
war.”
 Elora’s shoulders dropped. “I suppose they wouldn’t want to take
sides. Until someone wins, the war can’t really be stopped. And I
suppose that means investigating the politics of it. I can’t imagine the
dragorai being that investigative or diplomatic.”
“True.” I’mya hadn’t thought about it like that. “But what if they’re
refusing because they don’t want to involve themselves in the affairs of
lesser-mortals?”
Elora nodded, her expression glum. “I would understand that too.”
“You would?” I’mya said, shocked.
“Yes,” Elora said. “It is unfortunate, but I do. We are not their
responsibility, I’mya. They did not create us and the Vattoro clan are the
only ones left because of the relentless attack by us that has destroyed
them as a species. It would be easier for them to just kill us all to stop
the war, and they haven’t done that. They have instead, provided some
of us with opportunities like this, to work in their lair.” She shrugged.
“Even though they are powerful beings, we cannot lay everything at
their feet.”
I’mya chewed the inside of her cheek as she thought upon that for a
long moment. It was an interesting perspective she hadn’t thought
about.
“I have to go,” Elora said. “I’m not supposed to get you too worked
up or too tired out.” She rolled her eyes. “Like Master hasn’t been doing
that since you arrived.”
I’mya chuckled with her. “Thank you for coming,” she said. “I
appreciate it.”
Elora squeezed her hand. “Of course,” she said softly. “And when you
feel well enough, visit us. The rest of the lair is waiting for you.”
 15

N yro picked I’mya up. She buried her face into his chest as his arms
wrapped around her securely, holding her as he walked out of the room.
Her transition was almost complete, so now was the best time for
her to meet his brothers.
I’mya avoided looking at herself at all costs, she even kept one of the
bed sheets wrapped around her constantly. That would not do. Nyro
would have to get her to face her body, and how it had changed. But
right now, he needed her to feel comfortable enough to leave the lair.
Before they left, he’d dressed her in a loose tunic and wrapped her in
furs to keep her warm.
Tyomar had offered to bring Ryndross to take I’mya to the temple
which Nyro accepted. Of course, Sanderyll was not happy about that. He
followed them, shrieking and roaring his displeasure—not
understanding why I’mya was on another dragon’s back. Nyro agreed
with San, but I’mya’s comfort was the most important thing right now.
It was already going to be a difficult meeting.
He entered the temple and sat down in his usual chair, placing I’mya
on the chair beside him. She looked so small in the seat that he wanted
to pick her up and put her on his lap, but he didn’t. He needed to show
his brothers he was taking this meeting seriously.
 He’d been pleased to see I’mya’s appetite returning, as well as her
sharp tongue and her need for domination. He couldn’t help but notice
her arousal every time he was in the cave with her, but he’d forced
himself to resist. Not only was she not strong enough, but her emotional
turmoil was still overly present.
She didn’t realize he could feel her emotions because she couldn’t
yet feel his, but he was monitoring her closely. I’mya was a much more
complicated being than he’d thought. Her range of emotions was
beyond anything he had ever experienced. He was very straightforward,
black-and-white, and with a significant amount of confidence that
minimized feelings like doubt, worry, or fear. That wasn’t to say he
didn’t have a range of emotions, but as an almost immortal being, there
were simply some emotions he didn’t experience often. I’mya had so
much doubt, confusion, worry, and guilt, that he hadn’t been able to
determine what was wrong with her for a long time.
He’d been shocked to realize she thought he’d placed her in prison.
But he hadn’t explained to her what was happening, and there was a lot
she didn’t know. The last time she’d seen him before he and his
brothers attacked the king, he was falling to his death on San’s back.
Once she started eating again, and her weight increased, he told his
brothers he would bring her to meet them soon. They were all
researching wildly, trying to find as much as they could about I’mya. He
had every person she’d communicated with in the lair interviewed, and
that had delivered some interesting results that painted a better picture
for his brothers. It was encouraging how excited his lair was about the
fact that he bonded—it made him hopeful about the future of his race.
I’mya sat, her head turning back and forth as she looked at all the
Vattoro wealth showcased the room.
The curved ceiling had been decorated extravagantly; gold panels,
jewels and gems littered throughout, and little dangling crystals gently
swung in the breeze, and on the side walls were enormous quality
paintings demonstrating the extent of Thrakondarian art.
At the sound of footsteps, she tensed, but she didn’t move. All his
brothers entered and headed to their chairs, nodding in greeting to
them both.
I’mya’s eyes were wide as she took them in. They must seem huge to
her.
Nyro introduced them all, and she repeated all their names slowly,
as if trying to memorize their names and faces.
“We will go straight into the reason why we are here,” said Sethorn,
briskly. “I’mya, you are to become part of our clan, yet you took serious
actions against us in the name of the king. We know nothing about you.
There has been much discussion about your actions and how we should
react to them as a clan. But, it is clear that if you are Nyro’s mate, then
we must, at least, give you the chance to explain.”
“Hello to you all,” I’mya said quietly. “I am aware that I have caused
you harm and concern… I was not expecting any leniency.”
“We’re not particularly being lenient,” Khyros said grimly. Nyro shot
him a hard look. “We expect you to answer our questions,” Khyros said,
“and we expect you to explain yourself.”
I’mya swallowed and nodded. “All right.”
“Why did you join Nyro’s lair?” Sethorn began leaning forward.
“I joined to kill his dragon,” I’mya said, her voice hoarse.
Nyro tensed.
“Why?”
“His dragon killed my little sister.”
Tyomar glanced at Nyro, and Sethorn glanced at Khyros.
“It is rare for dragorai to kill children,” Zendyor said. “I’m not saying
it doesn’t happen. Children can get caught in conflict. But it is rare for a
dragon to seek out and kill an individual target.”
 “My sister ran into its blaze,” she said. “But it was targeting me. It
was trying to burn me.”
“He wasn’t trying to kill you,” Nyro said.
“I was there,” I’mya said sharply. “I saw he was targeting where I
was sitting—I was the one who summoned him.”
Khyros frowned. “From the beginning,” he said slowly. “Explain
everything to us.”
It was at least an hour before I’mya had explained what had
happened and they had asked all the questions they needed to. Nyro
interjected a few times, surprised at some of her responses, but in
general all of them seem to understand her motivations and reasons.
“So the king knows that there are omegas in the Twin Realms who
can sense and command magic,” Tyomar said. “He didn’t know or care
which of us he targeted, he just wanted to target a dragon—any
dragon.”
“I never thought about it like that,” I’mya said thoughtfully. “But yes,
he said he happened to find me first and knew that I could summon a
dragon.”
“So, he already knows more than us,” growled Zendyor. “And any of
us could be next.”
“I’m more concerned about what he said about magic and the death
of a dragon,” Khyros murmured. “He is clearly well researched on
dragorai culture as well as the language.”
“Magic aids the war,” I’mya said simply. “The king and queen will
need to find new ways of executing magic in order to beat the other.
That’s the only way they can compete. They are almost equally matched
in all other ways.”
“How do you know that?”
I’mya shrugged. “Just things that I heard and saw when I was in the
North.”
 “Do you think you can brief us on that?” Tyomar asked. “We need all
information we can get.”
I’mya nodded. “I have some questions for you, though, all of you.”
“Go ahead,” Khyros said.
“Why have you not done anything about the war?” she asked
tentatively, glancing around the table. “Nyro told me that he is not
concerned about the war of mortals. But you all seem to care about
what the king and queen are doing. I saw the way your dragons could
destroy ember. Why haven’t you done anything?”
“There is much we have done,” Zendyor said. “But we also have to
protect ourselves and our lairs. Destroying ember would not stop it
from reappearing. The queen and king would continue to launch into
each other’s Dominions. It would be a never-ending task.”
“But it would give people hope that you are helping,” I’mya said.
“Instead of doing it so covertly.”
“It would also put us right in the firing line for the king and queen
and make us more vulnerable,” Sethorn said sharply. “The king has been
studying us more than we realized. He is becoming aware of some of
our weaknesses, even ones we didn’t know we had.”
I’mya sat thoughtfully for a long moment, and Nyro longed to lift her
into his lap. “I will help you,” she said finally. “In any way I can. I am very
familiar with parts of the North and some of the rumors and news that
circle there.”
Nyro frowned. “You will not be putting yourself in any kind of
danger,” he stated. “Your priority is to be with me.”
“Aren’t you going to be helping?” I’mya said sharply.
Zendyor and Sethorn snapped a look at her, their brows high.
Tyomar looked like he wanted to laugh, and Khyros’ expression
softened with amusement.
 Nyro scowled. “Of course I am,” he bit out. “Do you think I want you
being targeted again? Do you think I want my children growing up
targeted? This king has perverted the Realm that we knew. It is time for
me to help stop him.”
I’mya’s gaze softened. “I’m glad,” she said softly. She grinned. “You
can make up for all the time you wasted.”
At that, Tyomar did laugh.
“I like her,” Zendyor decided.
“She certainly has the Vattoro temper,” Khyros muttered.
Nyro could not help the beam of pride that shone brightly within
him at that comment.
“But I must agree with Nyro that you must be kept safe,” Khyros
added. “You are our greatest opportunity to survive and continue our
family line.”
“I have questions about that too,” I’mya said. “Why do you think I am
Nyro’s mate? How can I be? Females of your kind died out, and they
required dragons. I don’t have a dragon.”
“Actually, you do,” Zendyor said.
“It is to do with Nyro’s dragon,” Sethorn explained. “Traditionally, a
dragorai-dragon is born the same day as his alpha, and their bond is
established that day. With dragorai-omegas, they are not paired with
their dragons until they are older. The female dragon finds the omega
and their bond is established. When two dragorais mate it has to be
their dragons that do so first, the dragons decide everything—it is like
that a lot in our culture. The dragons will meet, and if they mate, then
the alpha and omega counterparts will mate as well. There has never
been a case where there has been a mismatched pairing, ever.”
“All right,” I’mya said, slowly.
“Sanderyll is the one that chose you first,” Zendyor said. “He
attempted to establish a bond with you a number of times—when you
called to him on the balcony of the king’s tower, the first time, that is
what he was attempting to do. The king was expecting that.”
Disbelief graced I’mya’s face. “So to establish the bond, he has to
breathe fire on me and burn every single inch of my body?”
“Yes,” Zendyor said simply. “It happens to dragorai-alphas when they
are newborn. It is one of things that makes us more powerful than
other alphas.”
I’mya shook her head. “So instead of me having my own dragon, I
will share Nyro’s?”
“That is the way it seems,” Khyros said. “We recognize the behavior
San is exhibiting, but it’s happening in a different way. We cannot do
anything about that. He is following his instincts.”
I’mya nodded thoughtfully.
Nyro watched her closely to see if she was upset at the idea that
Sanderyll had intended to purposely burn her, but she seemed more
surprised and thoughtful about it rather than upset.
“But I don’t feel the bond,” I’mya said. “I don’t feel any different
apart from the physical effects of the fire.”
“You will,” Tyomar said, smiling. “Once you finish your transitioning,
you will.”
“I am pleased to have met you,” Khyros said, glancing at Nyro. “I
believe your presence has changed our clan for the better. And I hope
you can support and protect the clan as we will you.”
I’mya looked at all of them. “Am I… Do you forgive me?”
All of his brothers smiled.
“We do if Nyro does,” Sethorn said. “There are some things that are
clan business, which we have addressed, and some topics that belong
between mates.”
“I am happy to have you as part of our clan, I’mya,” Tyomar said.
 I’mya turned to Nyro, beaming the most gorgeous smile with tears
in her eyes. He finally lifted her into his lap, and she kissed him in front
of all his brothers.
“There was one more thing that we have to discuss,” Zendyor said.
I’mya pulled away from Nyro, and he growled under his breath at
Zendyor’s interruption.
“What is it?” Khyros asked.
“The trespasser.” Zendyor shot Nyro a hard glare. “I’d like to know
how that investigation is going?”
Nyro’s arms around I’mya tightened, and she glanced at him,
confused.
But Zendyor didn’t even look at her. He was looking straight at Nyro.
Nyro ground his teeth. Was Zendyor trying to make a claim on I’mya
after they had bonded? That didn’t make sense. “I don’t know why you
persist with this ridiculous request, Zendyor,” Nyro said irritably.
“Have you begun the investigation?” Sethorn asked.
Since he had been given a direct instruction by Khyros to investigate
it, Nyro was reluctant to say he hadn’t, but he also was not going to lie.
“I will have something to tell you within the next new moon,” he
grunted.
“Then clan business has concluded,” Sethorn said. “Welcome to our
family, I’mya.”
 16

I t 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 scales 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 that. Most discussion about our culture is 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
eyes 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, 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. 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!”
I’mya could not stop laughing. She laughed all the way to his
chambers, she laughed as he stripped her, and when he slid inside her,
his arms around her, their noses touching, she grinned at his gruff
expression not finding anything humorous about her attitude, but that
just made it funnier. “I will try to remember that, Master, but that
painting on the wall makes it very difficult for me to want to be in your
bed.” She pointed at the canvas he’d made her paint, and he all but
roared in fury.
She surrendered herself to his domination with relish, knowing it
would settle and calm him.

The next day, I’mya made her way back to San’s den.
She knew he felt her arrival because he was seemingly waiting for
her at the edge of the cave.
I’mya climbed up onto his arm and then hooked herself onto
whatever she could cling to in order to climb up onto his back. It took
an enormous effort and a long time, including some indecent positions.
Sanderyll huffed out a breath in frustration while shuffling his wings as
she made her way, but he didn’t move his torso an inch. Eventually she
found the diamond patch of satin on his back and in between his
shoulders, and sat down.
As soon as she did, he launched off the edge of the entrance, beating
his wings and soaring over the mountain.
I’mya spread her arms and yelled in delight, the wind rushing
around her body.
He was going faster than she had traveled on him before, but it was
breathtakingly thrilling. The wind whipped up her newly grown hair
and the coolness of the mountains blew into her face.
Sanderyll worked his wings, speeding up as he dashed over the
range. I’mya placed her scaled hand on his back, and instantly the
connection between them strengthened tenfold. It was almost as
though she could see through his eyes and feel everything in a more
visceral way than she had before.
And he was ecstatic that she was on his back, that he was finally
flying with his mate’s omega. I’mya smiled and stroked his scale. “I’m
glad you found me,” she said to him. “It was a difficult time for us, but
I’m glad to be part of this bond.”
A few of his emotions blossomed, from gladness and sorrow and
then to pride. I’mya knew what each one was for, and she continued to
talk to him as they sped over the range. It was the most riveting
experience that she’d had outside Nyro’s chambers. They flew all
morning, and I’mya came to a number of realizations. This was where
she belonged, this was what made her whole, and the only thing
missing was Nyro.
Of course, Nyro was furious he missed out and ranted about her
sneaking out of the lair without telling him.
“You don’t need to be jealous,” I’mya snapped. “He is ours. Will you
be jealous of our child as well?”
Nyro stilled. He turned to her and pulled her close. “I’m not jealous
that you went out on Sanderyll,” he said. “Yes, I did not like you sleeping
in his den. I want you sleeping in my bed at all times, but I am proud
that he let you ride him and that you enjoy the time you had with him.”
He squeezed her against him. “That is what will make our bond strong,
I’mya—your connection with him is vital to any success we have.
Sanderyll has been my closest brother and friend since I was born. He is
the hardest one to impress, so the fact that you have a special
relationship with him pleases me.” He shot her a hard look. “But you do
not sleep anywhere near him.”
I’mya relaxed and smiled at him. “All right.”
As the ordination ceremony approached, I’mya spent more time
with San as she tried to prepare, but what she didn’t realize was that
when they said ordination, what they really meant was… wedding.
 17

I ’mya looked magnificent for her ordination.

She had styled her walnut-brown hair that had grown back, not as
long as it once was, but it was getting there. Her newly designed dress
had been made out of the most exquisite fabric in black and gold—the
battle colors of the dragorai—to show off one of her best features, her
scales.
The pride that Nyro felt when he realized her transition included a
physical change of the skin and a deeper connection in her bond with
San had to be the most incredible result of this whole experience.
The three of them had such a unique connection, it was a constant
source of amazement and comfort for all three of them.
Before I’mya, Sanderyll’s relationship with Nyro had been extremely
limited; Nyro had only felt the strong, base emotions from his dragon
and determined what he needed from those simplistic, yet powerful
feelings. With I’mya joining them, the connection was more rounded
and nuanced. Nyro had been surprised by some of the ways that
Sanderyll had been feeling. He hadn’t been aware his dragon had been
lonely—Nyro never felt it. This wasn’t unusual. The connection
between dragorai-alpha and dragorai-dragon had never been as strong
as many assumed. But with a dragorai-omega, it was that and more.
 It would take some getting used to, but he could see the potential of
what their bond could be. And it was exciting. All of his brothers were
excited by it too, maybe perhaps the possibility was there for them to
find their own mates and deepen their connections as well. He hoped
they did. It was something he wanted to be able to share with his kin.
Once I’mya was ready, they flew to the celebration point on Khyros’
range using magic. The entire lair had been given permission to attend,
as had all the other dragorais’ lair staff. It was only right for the people
who supported and helped them daily be allowed permission to attend.
Of course the kon’ayas had to get dressed, but that whole situation was
changing. I’mya was making modifications to the lair which made her
feel more at home, and Nyro was happy that she was taking control of
her new environment and making it her own. Obviously, he was not
interested in any other woman. She satisfied him in ways that no other
had from the very beginning.
He still experienced exquisite pleasure when he knotted her, when
he kissed her, when they both fucked like they would die if they didn’t.
He didn’t think that would ever change, and the bond only increased
their carnal pleasures and urges.
At the ordination point, Sanderyll stood in between two mountains,
waiting for the couple while the whole Vattoro community was spread
on either mountain watching the ceremony. I’mya and Nyro lowered
onto his back, between his shoulders, and Khyros and the brothers
hovered a circle around them.
They began reading the most important Vattoro laws and then
inducted I’mya into the clan by asking her to swear the oath. I’mya
pledged her allegiance the clan, relinquishing all other responsibilities
to live her life in service to the Vattoro name, to her dragorai-alpha and
her dragon, and to always protect Vattoro blood and do all she could to
maintain and preserve dragorai culture and life. Nyro was reminded of
the dark cloud that was the war, headed and instigated by the king and
queen. That was an imminent issue to be addressed, but today wasn’t
the time to think about them.
Through their bond, I’mya’s determination, awe, and deep affection
was strong, and Nyro couldn’t have been prouder.
Afterward, when Khyros bade them a long and happy bondship, all
the attendees cheered, their voices echoing across the range. Sanderyll
rose into the air, sailing over the range, and Nyro encircled I’mya in his
arms. “Welcome to the clan,” he grinned.
“I’m glad to have you both as my family,” she said.
“I am glad too,” he said, his heart soaring. “My love for you will never
extinguish, fireball.”
I’mya smiled up at him, tears in her eyes, and before she could
respond, he captured her lips with his. Because he already knew how
she felt for him—it was in the bond.
And the only thing left was to give her the gift of his kiss.
 EPILOGUE

N yro watched I’mya’s round, heaving ass as she rode his cock with
her back to him, and sucked his toes.
The things she did when she was in her heat had no boundaries, and
he always had his most intense orgasms. It was also when her scent was
sweetest and when she was at her most extreme. He loved it. He was
also usually in a rut so he wasn’t that objective, but he didn’t care. Nyro
found he enjoyed her when whether she was in her heat or not. He tried
to compare them, but it was impossible to do. He simply loved
everything about her and everything that she was.
Adjusting to having her oversee the lair as his mate was easy
considering he hardly did anything in the first place. She learned most
about the running of the lair from the head steward and Dayatha, and
she enjoyed learning everything about dragorai culture.
It was difficult for her to adjust to her friend leaving for Zendyor’s
lair. She’d had few friends and all of her family were gone, so the loss
was hard and Nyro understood that; the thought of losing his brothers
wasn’t one he could entertain. If Nyro had known that it was her friend
who’d been the one Zendyor wanted, he could have tried to find
somebody else who was willing to go in her place—before they found a
tracker who could describe her. He had to admit, he found Zendyor’s
persistence about this female for so many new moons strange. But he
was glad to finally have him shut up about it.
In any case, I’mya was coping with that loss and had settled into a
routine.
They flew regularly with San, and he recently took I’mya on a hunt
which she disliked. Even though she’d been manipulated into attacking
Sanderyll, she was too softhearted to be involved in the capturing and
killing of creatures. Sanderyll also flew very differently, and it took
different skills to ride him. Nyro vowed to have her love hunting in the
next few years, which she had to challenge him about.
His favorite time was when they both flew together on Sanderyll’s
back during dusk. It started as a weekly event and then a daily one as
I’mya felt it important to spend more time with San.
Nyro groaned as his balls tightened, and a rush of pleasure surged.
I’mya seemed to be able to tell because she clamped down harder and
rode him faster, only concerned about drawing out his seed. He loved it.
She worshiped his seed and if it wasn’t in her, it needed to be down her
throat or smeared all over her skin.
He grabbed her hips as she slammed her juicy kon down on him
furiously, as deep as she could get. He squeezed the fleshy fat on her
sides, watching the shuddering of her ass as he shot inside her, his
breath caught in the delicious savagery of it.
When he finally slammed his knot into her, he dropped down on the
bed panting, rubbing her ass as he enjoyed the pleasure that beamed
through him at the strangling squeeze around his knot. This was bliss.
I’mya leaned forward, resting on his legs, panting hard. It would be
another three days of this sweaty ecstasy before her heat broke, but as
always, he would enjoy it to the fullest. His interest in her still hadn’t
waned, and it was comforting to realize that, as his mate, it never
would.
 When I’mya’s heat ended, she lay snug in their stained sheets for a
few days, but she didn’t want Nyro to leave. She moaned and wailed
that he must stay in bed every time he tried to get up.
“We cannot stay in bed all day, I’mya,” he snapped. “I thought you
had things you wanted to do after your heat?”
I’mya mumbled something under her breath and drew herself close
to him, but when Nyro pulled her onto him, he noticed that her skin
was warmer than normal. She was too hot.
“Are you unwell?” he said, lifting her head to look at her. He lifted
her up and went to pour a glass of water, and suddenly realization hit.
Her scent had changed.
His breath caught in his throat. He lowered his nose to her neck to
scent her. Her aroma had a hint of smoke in it, which meant… she had
conceived!
He was so excited that he roared and ran out of his chambers with
her in his arms.
Nyro ran around the entire lair with I’mya informing every single
individual that there would be a new dragorai. Of course, everyone
rejoiced.
Dayatha began to weep, as did many of his staff, but she soon began
ordering everyone around to ensure that the pregnancy was successful.
“There is a lot to do,” she warned Nyro. “She is without a dan askha,
so it will be more difficult. I don’t know how that will affect the
pregnancy and birth.”
“It will be a success,” Nyro stated. “We will make it so.”
It took another few days for I’mya to recover from the initial
overheating and nausea, during which she had to remain in bed
cocooned with Nyro. Dayatha told her she needed to start nesting
immediately to support the pregnancy.
 “You were like a child, carrying me around the whole lair telling
everyone,” she said to Nyro, once she fully recovered.
“Everyone should know,” Nyro stated. “I’m going to tell my brothers
the next clan meeting.” He thought for a moment. “In fact, I may call a
clan meeting to announce it.”
I’mya shot him a look. “Actually, there is someone you forgot to tell.”
That evening, as Sanderyll took off over the range, I’mya placed her
scaled hand on the back of his neck and Nyro encircled his arms around
her, both of them communicating their joy to their dragon.
His mood soared with both joy and hope, and he looped and dipped
in the air. I’mya and Nyro laughed, his mood lifting theirs.
“Do you think he understands?”
“I don’t know,” Nyro said. He was still learning the extent of San’s
emotions and intelligence. “But it can only be good.”
She placed a hand on her stomach. “Yes, but we will need to be
careful.”
He leaned forward to pepper her cheek with kisses. “This pregnancy
is the most important thing in the entire Twin Realms for all of us,
I’mya. My brothers and Sanderyll will not let anything happen to you.
And neither will I.”
I’mya turned in his lap and slid her arms around his neck in that
way he loved, the way she always did just before she was about to kiss
him.
“I know,” she said, smiling. “Whatever comes, Nyro, I know I’m safe.
That’s all I’yala would have ever wanted.”
His lips touched hers, and he was lost in the beauty and passion of
her kiss, and was glad he finally realized; of all of his indulgence over
the centuries, it was with his family where he belonged.

The End
 I hope you enjoyed Nyro and I’mya’s story!

As they both try to figure out how to prepare for an unusual pregnancy,
Nyro becomes even more possessive of I’mya!

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She was saved by a dragon lord. And now he thinks he owns her.

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Oshali must choose where her loyalties lie, knowing Tyomar won’t
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 ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I’m so thankful to all the people who have helped to make this story
happen! Randie, you’re always such a trooper and I’m always in awe of
your red pen! Thanks so much for making sure my world and words
shine! I really appreciate your time and dedicated attention. Margarita,
thank you so much for your all your help and reactions on this series.
It’s been invaluable, and I’m so glad that it’s out in the world, largely
because you’re such a great, supportive friend. I also must thank Nora
Ash and Eva Dresden for letting me bend your ears on this one over the
years, and also Liz and Jillian—thank you for letting me bug you for
your insights.
To my friends and family, love you like crazy x :)
 ALSO BY ZOEY ELLIS

MYTH OF OMEGA
An epic fantasy, dark romance series
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Crave To Conquer
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Crave To Claim
Myth of Omega: Reign (Malloron and Amara )
Reign To Ruin
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Myth of Omega: Own (Kardos and Shaya)
Own To Obey
Own To Obsess
Own To Obtain

MYTH OF OMEGA STANDALONES

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An epic fantasy romance series featuring possessive, dragon-riding alphas.
A Lair So Sinful
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 BEHOLDEN DUET
A fairytale romance duet
A Savage Debt
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EMPIRE OF ANGELS
An paranormal angel romance trilogy
Claimed By Power
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 ABOUT ZOEY ELLIS

Zoey Ellis is a Dark Romance author who unites Omegaverse and Epic Fantasy
into intensely primal romances. With her signature blend of high steam, dark
angst, and magical worlds, her work satisfies a thriving international
community of anti-hero-obsessed knot-lovers. She lives in London, England,
and spends most of her free time with family, collecting pretty fountain pen
inks, and wrangling her TBR pile.
Get early access to her newest releases and exclusive book bundles at
www.zoeyellisbooks.com