A Lair So Fateful (The Last Dragorai 4)

The moment she walked into the room, the alpha’s eyes tracked down her body, and Uraya resisted the urge to pull her robes tighter. Maybe what she was wearing wasn’t the best choice of attire to meet him in. “How may I help you, dragorai?”

His smirk disappeared. “That is not how you will address me.”

“It is the middle of the night.” She forced her voice to remain level. “If you wish me to address you appropriately, maybe you should visit at a more appropriate time of the day.”

Sethorn said nothing for a long moment. “Gather your things. We are leaving for my lair.”

Shock jolted through Uraya’s body. “What are you talking about?”

“You are aware that we have been tasked with working together on this ridiculous mission you have insisted on. In order for us to do that, you need to be in my lair.”

“I do not.”

Sethorn lifted his chin, looking down on her through narrow eyes. “Then how do you hope for us to be successful? You do not have any means of getting to my territory frequently enough.”

Uraya shook her head. “Why can’t you come here to work? There is enough space and I will make myself available at any time.”

“I will not keep breaching my brother’s territory simply to work on something that benefits you alone. If you wish for us to carry out this mission quickly and efficiently, you need to be based in my lair. No further discussion.”

Her heart thudded as she glared at him, holding back all the things she wanted to scream in his face. He wasn’t saying this to help her, he simply wanted her in his lair, like he’d insisted from the first time they’d met.
Sethorn stepped closer, his hazel eyes trained on her, and within the depths of the fiery annoyance in his gaze was something that terrified her—a gleam of amusement. His smirk returned. “I can promise you, you will be treated in my lair exactly as you would expect.”

A surge of anger flared in Uraya’s chest. “Respectfully, I decline,” she replied tightly. Turning on her heel, she walked out of the room.

As soon as she was out in the corridor, she exhaled heavily and headed back to her room. How dare he turn up in the middle of the night insisting she go to his lair. He must think she—

Her breath was knocked out of her as something clamped around her stomach and hoisted her into the air. Yelping, Uraya tried to fight against it, but her arms were locked by her sides, and instinctively she recognized the thick arm wrapped around her.

“Put me down!” Uraya struggled against his hold, but it was firm, with no room to squeeze or slip out of his grip.

“Quiet.” Sethorn strode down the corridor. “We do not have time for this. We need to start working tomorrow and for that you need to be in my lair. You do not have a say.”

He fixed her in such a manner that she slightly flopped over his arm like a sack of potatoes. Furious, Uraya abandoned all attempts to remain calm. She fought him as best she could with her arms locked down by her sides while screaming for him to release her. Her voice echoed off the stone walls of the corridor. Surely someone had to hear her?

Sethorn hoisted her up higher. “Keep screaming, little foe,” he murmured. “It is good practice for you.”

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This book will contain the following:

• deeply obsessive, possessive, jealous behavior by the hero for the heroine
• dark, uncomfortable, explicit, and potentially triggering scenes
• a hero who is cruel, brutal, or despicable in some way
• a hero who is also faithful and protective of the heroine
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