Pretty Painful by K.A Knight

Dabria

Banging on the door has me sitting bolt upright, my body protests for a moment, a soreness between my thighs letting me know I have been well fucked. My eyes dart around, wondering where I am before I remember Mishal, the cell, and everything else. Turning to look over my shoulder, I spot Mishal standing in front of the door, blocking their view into the room—blocking me.

“Stay in the dark, little one,” he whispers, his voice just a whisper on the wind, barely audible, but my new improved hearing picks him up.

Nodding, I scoot to the back of the cell and wait with bated breath. His chains are arced across the room, as far as he can go, and I sniff the air, smelling his blood. I spot it around the cuff on his wrist, and my fangs drop as my need for his blood surges forth. It makes me shiver as the heat starts under my skin, slowly getting hotter as every second ticks by. Sweat begins to pour from my body and I wrap my arms around myself, to hold myself back from leaping across the room and feeding on Mishal when he needs to concentrate.

The cell door clanks open, giving me the first look at my captors. Two men, both dressed in black with something glowing under their t-shirts, enter the room. Mishal watches them the entire time, his back bulging, and I know Nyre is near the surface. “Well, look who wants to play. Come on then, dragon, where is your new fuck toy we brought you? Did you break her already? Eat her?” one of them jokes, throwing a tray full of food and drink on the floor as the two men start to move to either side of the cell, obviously looking for me.

“Come out, come out wherever you are!” one of them yells and then looks right at me with a grin. “Ah, there she is.” He can see me. How can he see in the dark? Is he like me…us? Is he other?

“Well, shit, looks like he’s had some fun with her,” one sneers.

Nyre growls, yanking on his chains as he lunges at the man. Not the least bit worried, the man steps back with a laugh, avoiding my chained monster’s reach. One moves around the edge of the room, just out of range, and stops before me. I know Mishal is waiting to see what he does before he kills them, but the man wasn’t expecting me. The hunger has taken over, ravaging my body until I would do anything to stop it.

“Aren’t you a pretty one? Why don’t you show us what the dragon did to you,” he taunts, cupping his cock, and I fling myself through the air at him.

“Little one, no!”

Growling, I tear into his throat and blood squirts me in the face, spraying across my body as I drink it down.

“What the fuck!” the other man yells as I squint.

Something is wrong. Pulling away from the man, I stumble backwards into the wall. He drops to the floor, his eyes wide and face pale as he tries to staunch the bleeding. Mishal comes up behind him and twists his neck, letting him fall to the floor dead. The other man yells, racing from the room as Mishal stares at me.

“Little one?” he calls worriedly.

“Something-something’s wrong,” I cry out. My lips and mouth are numb, and I swallow time and time again trying to get rid of the feel and taste of the blood. I can feel it in my stomach and it’s heavy…like it is not meant to be there.

Pain shoots through my body and I feel the blood make its way back up until I’m crouched on all fours, heaving. Fresh, red blood with black bits in it splatters on the floor, my stomach clenching and unclenching and I can’t seem to stop. Tears race down my face as my body rejects the blood. The pain in my throat is indescribable, like it burns as it comes back up.

“Little one,” Mishal growls, rubbing my back and holding my hair for me. “Get it all up, quickly, before it poisons you.”

I gag and vomit until I feel like it has left my body. He picks me up and cradles me in his arms, moving us over to the other side of the room and holding me against his chest as he purrs.

“What-what happened?” I croak.

“You cannot drink any blood but that of your mate. It is nature’s way of keeping us together. Other blood won’t sustain you. It will poison your insides until you waste away if you don’t purge it,” he explains, moving my hair away from my face and stroking my sweaty forehead. I feel disgusting, sticky, and in desperate need of a wash.

“It hurts,” I complain.

“Shh, little one. Here, this will help.” He presses his wrist to my mouth, still stroking my hair and purring like he doesn’t even realise he’s doing it anymore.

My fangs descend instantly and I sink them into his wrists. The first mouthful of his blood washes away the horrible taste in my mouth, and when it hits my sore throat, it cools it, coating it as it goes down and spreads strength throughout my body. I keep swallowing, more and more, until I fall back limp into his arms, no longer in pain and beyond tired again.

“That’s it, rest now, your body needs to heal.” He kisses my forehead and holds me closer.

“Why am I so tired all the time?” I mumble, turning my head into his chest, seeking out his warmth and his heartbeat.

“You are regenerating, your powers are healing your body and changing you. Making you stronger with each feeding. Soon, you won’t need to sleep much at all. So, rest now, little one, while you can,” he whispers, his arms tightening, and I sigh and slip back to sleep, with his taste still on my tongue.

* * *

I wakeup in Mishal’s arms, and when he notices I’m awake, he gently places me on the floor like I’m made of glass before he walks over and grabs the food. He refuses to eat until I have, so I nibble at the stale bread and meat while he watches me with those dark eyes until he’s satisfied. When he tears through the remainder, I lean into his arm, grimacing at the dirty feel of my body. It feels like I have a layer of sweat, sick, and blood coating me, which I probably do.

“Ew, I really need a wash.” I grimace.

He stops eating his meat to sniff me, making me laugh and push him away. “You smell like me and sex,” he comments, before carrying on eating.

“Exactly,” I grumble.

“It’s a good smell.” He grins, leaning back now that the tray is empty.

He passes me the water from the tray, and I drink half before letting him have the rest.

“You want to wash?” he asks finally, and I perk up at that.

“I can?” I gush, jumping to my feet.

He laughs as he climbs to his feet, and heads over by the door in the corner. “Brace yourself, it’s cold,” he warns.

“What is?” I inquire, but he presses a button I didn’t even notice before, and water sprays down from the ceiling, coating the floor and washing the blood, sex, and vomit away down drains built into the bottom corner of the walls.

He’s right, the water is cold, but it feels amazing. I tilt my head back, slicking my hair out of my face, and let the water trail over my body, washing away the last couple of days. I scrub at my skin, getting rid of the blood before I feel warm hands land on my waist. I freeze as a hard chest meets my back. His hands run up my body, moving through the water as he cups my breasts and tweaks my nipples, before moving up to my neck and circling it, bringing me right back to his chest with it.

He moves his fingers through my hair, taking time to untangle every knot before scrubbing it with the water. By the time he’s done, I’m slack and leaning back into his chest with my head near his shoulder. His hands skate down my body again, curving around my stomach and thighs before he drops to his knees behind me. He picks up each foot without saying a word and just cleans my body for me. The soft, caring way he does it makes tears gather in my lashes, but I quickly blink them away, not wanting him to see how easily he is undoing me.

He washes my foot then kisses the heel before dropping it back to the floor and picking up the other, giving it the same treatment before moving to my legs. He massages the water in, soothing my sore muscles before going to my thighs and massaging them too. He grabs my ass, gently washing it and kneading my cheeks and I sigh, leaning farther back into him, letting him do whatever he wants to me as he worships me, because that is exactly what he’s doing. I jump when he bites my left cheek lightly before he kisses it better.

I open my mouth to scold him, but he gets up and moves around to my front, dropping to his knees again and looking up at me through his long, dark lashes. His hair is plastered to his head, wild and wet, and droplets trace down his face and body. He looks like the god he is. Why is he at my feet? He cleans the front of my legs, ignoring my pussy, which is already wet and wanting him again. He washes my stomach gently and cups my breasts, cleaning under them and licking water beads from my nipples before pressing his body to my front, and resting his head on my chest.

“Mishal,” I whisper, not knowing what else to say. He warned me he was a beast, and of the dirty things he would do to me, but he never said he would try and steal my heart by caring for me. Even in a cell, he’s trying to give me everything I want.

I fall to my knees, unable to stop myself, as I dot small kisses all along his brow and cheeks before kissing his lips and pulling away. He lets me, just watching me as I span my hands on his chest and start scrubbing away the blood like he did to me. He blinks in shock and I make sure to go slowly, knowing he is unused to being treated so softly. He’s a hard man, a strong man, but every hard, strong man needs a heart. Needs caring and softness.

I wash his abs, marvelling at the strong muscles in his body before moving to his thick, hairy thighs. I wash them, kissing both before moving around the back of him and sweeping my hands along his strong big back. He leans forward, his arms braced on the floor as I massage his muscles, tracing each scar littered across his skin like a battlefield.

“What are they from?” I ask softly, running my fingers along a long, raised scar before tracing a burn mark.

“My childhood. There was a reason we killed our parents,” he answers gruffly.

Next, I trace his intricate tattoo, the lines thick and black, the only colour is the bright gold and green eyes. “Is this Nyre?” I query.

“Yes.”

“He’s beautiful,” I coo, and he is. His dragon form is regal and huge, taking up his whole back with his tail curving along his hip and ass. I feel Nyre move under his skin and drop a kiss over the dragon tattoo. “When did you get it tattooed?” I press curiously, wanting him to open up to me.

“I didn’t, I was born with the markings. We all were. When I turned six, I transformed for the first time. It was Nyre coming free. I thought I had lost my mind, I always had this other voice in my head, a boy talking to me. As I grew, so did Nyre, and we became closer than brothers, we became almost one. He is the only reason I haven’t gone crazy in here, but he is struggling being trapped for so long,” he finishes, his voice harsh and worried.

“You are scared for him?” I ask, and he hunches his shoulders like I have struck him.

“I fear nothing,” he growls, more animal than man.

I curl over his shoulders, wrapping my arms around him and cuddling him from the pain in his voice when he said that. “I know, but you worry about him,” I murmur, trying again.

“Yes,” he whispers, like he is scared of being caught saying it. “It hurts him to be trapped for so long. Before you came, I could barely hear him anymore. Sometimes, I used to resent him always being here, never being alone, but when I finally was…I hated it. I wanted him here, I wanted him in my head. He was weakening, then there you were and he came roaring back to the surface…I just don’t want him to disappear again.” His voice is husky and I hold him tighter. I can’t imagine spending my life sharing a body with someone, but it’s obviously built a bond no one could understand…to lose that must be terrifying.

“I won’t let him. I’ll drag him back if I have to. One fang at a time,” I promise, kissing each shoulder.

“Little one—” He starts, but I cut him off by biting his shoulder. He shivers against me, groaning as he leans back, offering me more room. I don’t drink, knowing I have already taken a lot—not that his body seems to be bothered.

“I won’t let him. Nyre is mine,” I growl. I don’t know when I decided that, but I did. “You are mine, he is mine, and neither of you gets to leave me,” I snarl, nipping at his shoulder again.

I laugh as he reaches back and drags me to his front, bending me over his knee as he looks at me with one green eye and one black eye. “Is that right? Are you trying to claim me, us, little one?” he rumbles.

“Yes, problem?” I grin, daring him with my gaze to do something about it.

“Does that mean we get to claim you?” he teases.

“If you want to,” I reply breathlessly, clenching my thighs together.

“Oh, I want to, we both do. Maybe it’s time I let Nyre have his fun.” He grins and his teeth seem sharper than before. Imagining him using them on me makes me pant. I’ve never really been one for pain, but something about this man, this beast, and the way he forces me to like it, mixing it with pleasure until I don’t know which way is up, is addicting as hell.

“Please,” I beg.