Pretty Painful by K.A Knight

Dabria

I’m warm, like really warm. Like when you are sitting next to an open fire type of warm. Sweat drips down my back as I try to pull away, but something hard keeps me pressed to the heat. Grumbling, I struggle and try to get free, but when the heat moves, I freeze, cracking open my eyes to see skin, lots and lots of skin. Rolling my eyes upwards, I meet the black gaze of the chained creature, and everything comes flying back.

“I’m in your lap,” I point out stupidly.

He leans back against the wall, his arms wrapped around me and jostling me with his movement, while gently stroking my thigh. Something hard is pressed against my ass and it takes a minute for me to realise that hard length, like a fucking steel pipe, is his cock. Holy shit. My pussy pulses as heat shoots through me—desire. Fuck, I thought they had broken me of that.

“You were crying out in your sleep. Don’t fear, you crawled your way into my lap, I didn’t force you,” he offers, closing his eyes, and I notice how tired he looks. Did he not sleep at all? Looking down, I realise I’m sprawled across him like he’s my personal teddy bear, except he is all hard muscle. I suck in breath, noticing he smells like fire, like when you’ve had a bonfire. It’s delicious and my mouth fills with saliva, my eyes trawling along his skin before I come back to myself.

“Sorry.” I wiggle, trying to break free and he growls, clamping me, so I still.

“Don’t fucking do that unless you want me to come all over your ass,” he warns, and my eyes fly wide open and meet his.

“You have been wiggling that fucking ass back and forth all night, and I’m about ready to throw you down and fuck you senseless, so unless you want that, I suggest you stop fucking moving,” he orders.

Brain malfunction.

His dirty words nearly have me panting and I’m embarrassingly wet, but I remember my dignity and slowly climb from his lap. He grabs my hips and helps, before letting go as soon as I’m standing. I shuffle away, leaning back on the opposite wall and sit there, not like there is much else to do. It’s silent, deadly silent, and I find myself looking around the cell we’re in. Whatever drugs they gave me must have still been in effect yesterday, because I feel so much more awake today. I notice the steel door with what looks like charred marks on the inside. There is a hole in the ground in the corner near the door, and hooks in the wall where the chain is fastened. Apart from that, it’s empty all except for him.

“Dabria, my name is Dabria, what’s yours?” I find myself asking to fill the silence. Every time I look at him, I see his eyes locked on me with unnerving intensity. I keep remembering waking up wrapped in his arms and how right it felt, how good it felt with his cock pressed against my ass. My eyes drop to his lap without meaning to, wondering if he is as big as he seemed.

“Mishal,” he grunts, drawing my eyes back up his magnificent body to his face.

His eyes are still dark and hunger has contorted his face, and I know he caught me staring. Heat fills my cheeks, but it does nothing to dampen my curiosity or stop the wetness between my thighs as I imagine all that power aimed at me. He raises his head, sniffing the air again, and his eyes seem to sharpen and lock on me. I squirm, looking away.

“I can taste your need, little one.” He grins.

Well, fuck.

“Yeah, well, I could feel yours,” I shoot back, refusing to blush and cower like a virgin.

He throws his head back and laughs, the sound like thunder cutting through the room. I can’t help but stare. He’s fucking beautiful when he laughs. His face and eyes shine with mirth, and his whole body shakes before it tapers off into chuckles and he looks back at me with a considering stare. “It has been over a thousand years since I last laughed, what have you done to me, little one?” he questions, more to himself.

“Thousand years?” I choke, looking at him.

His face wipes clean of all expression. “I am older than you can imagine,” he replies.

“Shit.” I rub my head. “I didn’t even know anything other than humans existed until…until there.” My voice is tight with tension. I have seen some amazing things in my life, things that people would call miracles and I always wondered if there was more out there, but to be faced with the hard truth now…either that or he’s just mad. But that doesn’t explain the strength, the black eyes, or the need for chains, and it doesn’t explain how I killed those men.

Am I human…or am I something else? Did they make me something else or was I born that way and I just didn’t know?

“I killed them,” I whisper, not realising I have said it out loud until he leans in.

“Killed who?” he asks with interest, tracking his eyes over my body again.

“The-the men who killed my-my sister,” I stutter. “I-I don’t know how. It was like time slowed down and I just—I punched one in the chest, stopping his heart. How is that possible?” I murmur, looking to him for answers.

He stares at me, that fucking blank mask in place. “Maybe you aren’t human,” he suggests.

A choked laugh escapes my throat as tears form in my eyes. “How is that possible?” I get up and start pacing. “I was human! I was born human!” I scream, looking at him. Like I’m lost at sea and he’s my lighthouse, I need him to guide me.

He sits farther back. “Bloodlines are weakening due to low birth rates, interracial matings, and the killings. I am betting it has diluted the bloodlines of most creatures out there. It’s possible you were born with the blood of a supernatural, your whole family could have been, and they wouldn’t have known. It probably wasn’t strong enough to pass your human side until...” He nods. “Until you needed it, until it was all you had left.”

I sit again, deflating. “You’re saying there are people out there just walking around with supernatural qualities hidden?” I laugh.

He shrugs. “Who knows, probably. They wouldn’t even notice unless they had a lot of the blood left from their original lines, or if it was pulled from them, destroying their humanity in the process. I can’t really say. I’ve been locked in here too long to know.”

“How long have you been in here?” I find myself asking.

“Over one hundred years,” he grunts.

“Well, shit. At least I know I will be dead long before that, thank fuck.”

“Don’t be so sure. If you truly have blood of the originals, you might live for a long time depending how strong it is or what you are.” He shrugs.

“What I am?” I whisper, swallowing hard. “You said I would get this from my parents?” I inquire.

“Yes,” he answers. “Your sister might have been as well.”

It twists something inside of me and my voice is bitter when it comes out next. “Doubtful.”

“Why is that, little one?” he growls, sounding genuinely interested.

“She wasn’t my sister by blood,” I say, staring at him, letting those black eyes ground me even while they make me want to crawl over there again and feel his heat. Would he feel that warm all the time? When he touched me…inside me? Licking my lips, I refocus on him. “I was adopted when I was three, I never knew my biological parents. The couple who adopted me thought they couldn’t have kids, Rachel, my sister, was a surprise and the doctors called her a miracle.”

“Blood or not, she was your sister, correct?” he rumbles and I nod, biting back tears.

“I have brothers,” he offers and then frowns, like he is unsure why he said that, but I grasp onto it, anything to distract me from the pain in my chest.

“How many?” I ask, sitting back and crossing my legs at the ankles.

He copies the movement, his eyes closing again, letting me finally breathe normally with those orbs no longer on me. “Six,” he replies.

I don’t reply, knowing he needs sleep and I don’t want to piss him off. I watch him as he slumbers, wondering how he isn’t mad if it’s been one hundred years. Well, madder than he is. What is he? I never asked. Do I believe this whole…supernatural thing? But I can’t deny what I did, no human could do that. If I’m capable of killing four men…what is he capable of? He’s old, I know that, ancient, if I believe his words.

It makes me wonder how they captured him. His eyes slit open, like a snake, and focus on me. “I can hear the cogs in your head turning, little one. Try to rest, there is not much else do in here.”

I nod, looking away and feeling guilty for being caught staring, even though he doesn’t seem to mind. I glance back every now and again, and I notice he sleeps lightly. Whenever I even so much as shift, his eyes flash open and lock on me until he growls. I gasp, letting out a little scream as he flashes quickly across the room. One second, he was against the wall, the next he is scooping me in his arms. He sits back down where he was and drops me in his lap, locking his arms around me and closing his eyes again.

“Err, Mishal?” I ask, almost a squeak.

He ignores me so I poke his chest. Those eyes flash open as he looks down at me with an arched eyebrow. “What?” he growls.

“Erm, why am I in your lap?” I query. Hell, not that I’m complaining since he is a lot comfier than the stone.

“Because if you didn’t stop fucking moving, I’m never going to get any sleep, so close your eyes, little one, so I can rest.” He shuts his eyes like that decides everything and I huff.

I don’t know why I do it, other than his manhandling annoyed me, but I dart forward and bite his pec, hard. I freeze, as does he, and I wonder what the fuck I’m doing, biting like an animal. I pull back, ready to apologize, but his hand comes up and cups the back of his head, keeping me to his chest. “At least use some fucking teeth if you are trying to hurt me,” he says with a groan.

I push backwards and he finally lets go of my head, laughing under his breath as I turn in his lap and face the cell, with my face on fire. “That’s what I thought, like a kitten with claws.” He laughs, his chest vibrating against my back, and I cross my arms, muttering under my breath about stupid men.

I sigh and eventually soften into him, relaxing when it becomes clear he has no intentions of letting me go. “What are you?” I ask, deciding to trust what he said was true—probably a stupid move, but it’s better than going crazy.

“You really want to know, or will it frighten you away? Because, little one, I really like the feel of this delicious ass pressed against my cock,” he whispers, his words licking along my skin.

“I want to know,” I reply breathlessly, trying to ignore my traitorous body, which is lighting up for him.

“Your people used to call me a god, born of the original titans, seven brothers with seven different strengths. I was the dragon, the one who burned the world to let it rebuild,” he answers, watching me closely.

“You’re a dragon god?” I ask, confused.

“Essentially, I was the first dragon, the very first. The rest are mere descendants of my line,” he replies, indulging me.

“So, you have lots of dragon children, what a slut,” I tease.

He laughs again, holding me closer. “No, no children, little one. Children only come from a mating and gods are not given mates. A very long time ago, I gave a human my blood to save his life. He transformed into a dragon, and so the dragon shifters were born, part dragon, part human. My dragon is a different animal altogether, he is not me and I am not him, unlike shifters.”

“What’s his name?” I query.

“They used to call him Nyre, but he has many names,” he murmurs, and I shit you not, I feel something move under his skin when he says the name.

“Ny-re, I like it,” I say softly, and the movement comes again, making Mishal grunt.

“He likes his name on your tongue too much, little one.” He grunts again.

“Nyre does?” I ask, turning to look.

Mishal’s jaw is clenched, his eyes wide as he clamps his hands on the stone floor, almost breaking his nails.

“Yes,” he hisses, his mouth transforming slightly.

“He cannot get out?” I whisper, asking in horror as it looks like the dragon is trying to break free from his skin.

Cuts open on his chest, yet he doesn’t scream or wince, like long, thick claws…or talons, are hurting him from the inside.

“He is trying to answer your call, the chains—they keep him inside my human skin. It has been so long since he was free. It’s not good for him or me,” he growls, and I gasp when his eyes turn gold, actually gold, with green around the outside, with a warm glow emitting from inside his usually black eyes.

“Nyre,” I whisper, knowing he’s hurting Mishal while trying to escape. I lean closer, pressing my hands to his chest. “Please, please stop,” I beg, unsure why.

The movement under his skin stills, and those eyes remain locked on me before they bleed to black. Mishal blinks a few times, looking at me as he settles back into the wall. “Who are you to command the serpent of the Earth?” he questions, more like he’s confused than demanding.

I lift my hands from his chest, feeling strange touching him so familiarly, but when I do the smell of his blood hits me. I turn my hands over to see it coating my palms, the bright red almost calling to me, begging me to taste. It smells like campfires and nights under the sky, and I struggle to keep myself from reaching out and licking it from my skin.

“It is just a cut,” he offers, misjudging my frozen look, ignorant to my inner struggle.

Groaning, I bring my hand to my face and lick a long line down my palm. The taste of him explodes in my mouth—night, fire, pleasure, and sin—until I’m licking my hands clean, wanting more, my teeth and body aching. Once the blood is gone, I look up and freeze at his arched eyebrow. Horror and disgust race through me, I can’t believe I just did that. Holy fuck. What the hell is wrong with me? I licked his blood from my skin for God’s sake!

He watches me, unblinking and silent, before dragging a finger down his cut on his chest and raising it between us, with the ruby drops racing down his finger. I watch in hunger, holding myself back, but with a cry I grab it and suck it into my mouth, groaning at the taste of him. He moans, his other hand holding my head as I suck and lick his finger clean.

I stop before flinging back, horrified with myself. I skate backwards on my ass and hands as he watches me, the blood slowly dripping down his chest, making my mouth ache again and need blossom inside me. Not just for his body, but for his very essence in his veins. He gets to his knees slowly and crawls to me. I freeze, lying on the floor, trying to force myself to stop. He hovers over me.

“Feed,” he orders, but I have no idea what he is on about.

He swipes his thumb over my lips and brings it between us showing me the blood on it before he sucks it clean. I lick my lips, catching the taste of him, my eyes drifting down to the blood still calling to me.

“Feed,” he growls again.

A dam breaks within me, the scent of him driving me wild until I grab his shoulders and flip us. I hover over his stomach, bending down and licking along the cut. Heat blossoms in my chest, mixing with the warmth from his blood as I swallow it. It spreads throughout my body, and I can feel it moving through my veins until I’m on fire, needing more, needing it all. My pussy pulses as desire smashes into me with such velocity that I cry out, rubbing against his stomach for friction. His hands come to my hips, holding hard but not stopping me as I grind against him, still lapping at the cut.

I lift my head when the blood stops and look at him, panting, no doubt with his blood smeared on my lips and chin, but he doesn’t seem bothered, in fact he looks hungry…for me. One of his hands leaves my hip and traces up until he presses his thumb into my parted lips. I suck it before letting him go. He feels around my teeth, tracing along the gums behind them before stopping to the right of my mouth. He presses down on a sensitive spot there that I didn’t even know I had, and I cry out around his hand, grinding harder against his stomach.

He does the same thing on the other side of my gums before pulling his fingers free. I watch in rapt fascination, not quite in control, as he digs his fingers into the cut on his chest, blood welling onto his fingers. Before I can protest, not that I would right now, he presses them back into my mouth—right over the gums where those sensitive spots were—and I feel something break free, dropping down and slicing open his fingers. Blood trails into my mouth and I swallow it. That fire increases, becoming an inferno burning so hot under my skin that it feels like it’s blistering from the inside out.

“Nightwalker,” he whispers.