Closing her eyes, she discarded all concerns about her reaction to him and focused on what it meant. This man wasn’t just an alpha, he was a divine being who had been alive for hundreds of years, and she was an insignificant mortal who had fallen foul of his laws and was easy prey he could kill instantly, if he chose. It was now clear to her that she hadn’t approached this situation appropriately at all.
“I’m sorry, Master,” she whispered, opening her eyes again. “Please accept my apologies for my mistake—it wasn’t intended to insult you. I just… I was selfish. I do respect and honor you and your clan, and I will accept any punishment you deem appropriate.”
The intensity of his anger dulled a little. His eyes roamed over her face, drifting down to her exposed neck before traveling back up to meet her gaze.
“You were born in the war,” he said.
Elora nodded, only able to move her head a minute amount.
“The North Cities.”
She nodded again. He seemed to prefer making statements rather than asking questions.
“Then you are not unused to living in it.”
Elora opened her mouth but didn’t know what to say. Was he planning on sending her back to the North Cities? Without her faction, it was a death sentence. Dejected, she closed her mouth and swallowed.
The beast’s eyes snapped to her undulating throat. “You entered my brother’s lair for safety,” he stated, his eyes returning to hers.
“That was one benefit, yes,” Elora breathed.
“What was another?”
“To have a home.”
The beast didn’t respond to that. He glared down at her but his gaze wasn’t as intense as before. Elora couldn’t guess what he might be thinking but hoped he couldn’t smell the rising arousal beneath her furs. Another irritating omega problem.
Then a soft voice spoke from the side of the room. “hiklok, sä va yu woräf wom kosh tara.”
The beast didn’t react for a moment and then suddenly released her. Elora fell forward onto her hands and knees, a painful shock juddering through her limbs as they hit the hard ground.
She looked up to see the back of the dragorai as he strode out of the room.
While Elora’s heart pounded wildly in her chest, her awareness slowly expanded to the rest of the room and the people in it. The two stewards standing either side of her by the walls hadn’t moved an inch. The dragorai-alpha of this lair considered her a criminal, she thought, as she panted trying to slow her heartrate, horror filtering through her mind at the situation she caused for herself. He wanted her punished not only for crossing into his territory but also for evading him, something she hadn’t done intentionally. As her breathing calmed, she rocked back onto her heels and glanced up at the female steward. “Thank you.”
The steward looked at her, her brow raised. “For what? I didn’t do anything to help you. I simply reminded him he was going to be late for a meeting.”
“Oh,” Elora said. She pushed herself to her feet and tightened her furs around her, trying to compose herself as much as she could.
The female steward stepped forward. “I’ll take you to a cell until he comes back.”
Elora picked up her carrysack. “A cell?”
“He will want to see you when he returns,” the steward said. “He has yet to decide what he’s doing with you.”
“Oh,” Elora said, her heart dropping. The idea of facing him again made her want to run.
“There is a good chance he will not kill you,” the female steward said, her voice warm and encouraging as if that was a good thing.
Elora’s eyes widened. “Kill me?”
The woman shot her a strange look. “You are a criminal. You trespassed on his land.”
“Yes, I am a trespasser,” Elora said, somewhat frustrated. “But I don’t understand why he is so angry about it. I didn’t harm anyone.”
The woman frowned. “Do you know anything about the dragorai at all?”
Elora almost scowled but instead she smiled. “Of course I do.”
“And you are wondering why an endangered race of alphas are almost obsessively protective of their land from the people who killed every other clan of their kind?” she said, slight annoyance in her tone.
Elora lowered her eyes as she huffed out a breath. That did make sense. “It is not as though I could cause him any true damage,” she muttered. “He is enormous.”
“Yes,” the woman said, sternly. “I’m sure the dragorai thought the same about the lesser-mortals at one point too.”
The male steward stepped forward. “We are all protective of them, but I can understand why you did it.”
“You can?” Elora looked at him with hope. “Do you think I can convince him?”
“No,” he said kindly. “Our lord is very particular about the breakage of rules. But if he was going to kill you, he would have done so already. So I think, at least for now, you are the newest member of our lair. Welcome.”
Elora gave him a weak smile, but she didn’t particularly feel glad about that.
“You shouldn’t speak too soon, Walrick,” the woman said. “He could still decide to punish her.”
“I’m sure he will,” he said, smiling sympathetically at Elora. “But our lord has very simple rules and simple needs. It is his habit to kill offenders immediately rather than ask questions. I think she is relatively safe from him for now.” He turned to the woman. “If you allocate her private quarters, I will alert the others and let them know she is staying.”
“I will do nothing of the sort,” the woman said affronted. “Unless our lord tells me to, I see no reason to prepare anything as of yet.”
The man exhaled heavily. “As you wish. I have other responsibilities to complete today before sundown. And so do you, but if you wish to spend more time on this than is absolutely necessary, you are welcome to.” He turned to Elora. “Welcome to the lair.”
With that, he left through a different exit—an opening in the side of the wall that Elora hadn’t seen. She stared after him, shocked at their interaction. In Nyro’s lair, stewards never argued or disagreed in front of servants. They were considered the organizers of the lair who made sure things ran smoothly and who made the majority of decisions about its upkeep.
The female steward sighed. “Come on,” she said, gesturing for Elora to follow her out of the room.
She led Elora through the wide corridors of the lair, and although they had been carved in the same way as Master Nyro’s lair, it had a completely different feel. In Master Nyro’s lair, every opportunity was taken to have openings that served as windows allowing light into various rooms and corridors, but this lair lacked that—it felt darker. The familiar warm breeze that kept the mountain warm was still present, but the atmosphere was different; quieter and less active. As she walked, Elora realized that she hardly saw anyone walking about the lair, almost as if there was no one else around.
“Where is everyone?” she asked the steward.
“Doing their duties,” she said. “I’m not sure what it was like in your old lair, but here we work and make sure the lair is maintained in good condition.”