Forced by dragons

No! Please!" I sobbed, pounding my fists against his chest. "Don't do this! I'm begging you!"

He didn't respond. His silence was more terrifying than any words could have been.

He threw me onto the massive king-sized bed, the plush surface doing nothing to cushion the blow to my spirit. I scrambled backward, my back hitting the headboard as I curled into myself, trying to disappear.

"I'm sorry!" I cried, tears streaming down my face. "If I've done something to upset you, I'll fix it! Just please, don't punish me like this!"

His face darkened, and he took a menacing step forward. "No one calls me by my name," he growled, his voice thunderous. "And no one tells me what to do."

I barely had time to register the words before his hand struck my face, the force of the blow leaving my ears ringing.

"You will warm this bed," he hissed, his tone laced with venom. "You will satisfy every depraved craving I have because you are mine to destroy. Do you hear me? You belong to me, and no one stops me. No one!"

I sobbed uncontrollably, shrinking against the headboard as he loomed over me. His shadow seemed to swallow the entire room, his presence suffocating.

"Now, come here," he commanded, his voice cold and final.

And I knew then-there was no escape from this darkness.

caught in a storm.

His gaze shifted, dark and intent, locking onto my lips. A chill of dread coursed through me as I realized what he intended. My teeth clenched tightly, a last-ditch effort to deny him what he wanted. But he was relentless.

Without warning, he leaned down and bit me, the sharp pain startling me into gasping. That was all he needed. His lips descended on mine with a bruising force, claiming them in a kiss that left no room for resistance

**Araya's POV**

The silence in the room was deafening, broken only by the sound of my ragged breathing. My body ached, trembling as I lay motionless on the bed, staring at the ceiling. The ornate chandelier above me cast distorted shadows that danced like ghosts on the walls, and I wondered if I was one of them now-hollow, broken, no longer a person but a specter of who I once was.

I didn't cry. The tears had dried up hours ago, leaving my eyes raw and swollen. My mind was blank, a void where thoughts and emotions once thrived. I couldn't process what had just happened, couldn't fathom the darkness that had consumed my life so completely. All I could do was lie there, numb, as the weight of it all crushed me.

Somewhere in the distance, I heard him. Dragons. The creak of the leather chair in the corner of the room, the faint clink of a glass as he poured himself a drink. He was watching me, I could feel his eyes on me, burning holes into my skin. He wasn't done. I knew that much. This was only the beginning.

"Are you still alive, little bird?" His voice cut through the silence, cold and mocking, laced with amusement. He was enjoying this-enjoying my pain, my humiliation, my complete and utter defeat.

I didn't answer. I couldn't. My throat felt like sandpaper, and the mere thought of speaking felt insurmountable. Instead, I turned my head slightly, just enough to catch a glimpse of him through my peripheral vision. He sat there, sprawled in his chair like a king on his throne, his dark eyes glittering with satisfaction.

"You're quiet now," he remarked, taking a slow sip of his drink. "No more begging? No more tears? I almost miss it."

I turned my gaze back to the ceiling, wishing it would cave in and swallow me whole. I wanted to disappear, to cease existing, to escape this nightmare that had become my reality. But there was no escape. Not from him.

"I told you," he continued, his tone almost conversational. "You're mine now. Fighting me is useless. Running is pointless. The sooner you accept that, the easier this will be for you."

His words felt like shards of glass, slicing through the fragile remnants of my sanity. I closed my eyes, squeezing them shut as if that would block out his voice, his presence, his power. But it didn't. Nothing could.

"I'll give you some time," he said, rising from his chair. I heard the heavy thud of his boots as he crossed the room, coming to a stop beside the bed. His shadow loomed over me, suffocating and inescapable. "Time to reflect. To understand your place."

I flinched as his hand brushed my cheek, his touch deceptively gentle. "You'll learn to obey, Araya. You'll learn to please me. And when you do..." He leaned down, his lips brushing against my ear. "...you'll thank me."

With that, he straightened and turned away, leaving the room without another word. The door closed behind him with a finality that sent a shiver down my spine. I was alone. Finally, *alone.*

But even in his absence, his presence lingered, like a shadow that refused to fade. I could still feel his hands on me, his breath against my skin, his voice echoing in my ears. I clutched the bedsheet tightly, my nails digging into the fabric as I tried to ground myself, to convince myself that I was still here, still alive.

**Dragons' POV**

As I left the room, I couldn't help but glance back, catching one last glimpse of her crumpled form on the bed. She was broken now, but not completely. There was still a spark in her-a tiny ember of defiance that I hadn't extinguished yet. But I would. In time, I would snuff out every trace of resistance, every shred of hope, until she was mine in every way that mattered.

I made my way to my study, pouring myself another drink as I sat down behind the massive oak desk. The room was dimly lit, the only light coming from the flickering flames in the fireplace. I stared into the fire, watching the flames dance and twist, their chaotic beauty mirroring the storm that raged within me.

Why did she captivate me so much? Why couldn't I simply take what I wanted and discard her like all the others? She was different, and that difference both intrigued and infuriated me. She made me feel things I didn't want to feel-things I had buried long ago. And I hated her for it.

But I also needed her. She was mine to control, mine to shape, mine to destroy. And I would. I would mold her into exactly what I wanted, and when I was finished, there would be nothing left of the girl she once was. Only the woman I created.

I smirked, raising my glass in a silent toast to my own darkness. "To control," I murmured, taking a long sip. "And to the game."

The next morning

I sat on the cold, tiled floor, curling my legs tightly against my chest. My head rested on my knees as I stared vacantly at the room, my heart sinking deeper into despair. A choking sense of helplessness consumed me, an agonizing reminder of my incapacity to escape this gilded prison.

The room was immaculate, its temperature perfectly regulated, a stark contrast to the turmoil within me. Everything-from the sprawling bed draped in silken sheets to the ornate wardrobe carved from dark wood-spoke of opulence. But what value did beauty hold in the absence of freedom?

A sudden knock disrupted my thoughts, followed by the sound of a woman's voice, muffled but distinct.

"Miss, are you in there?" she called out, her voice tentative yet persistent.

I didn't respond.

The door creaked open, and I heard her steps approaching cautiously. "Miss..." she said again, this time standing over me.

Her presence cast a shadow across my trembling form. She hesitated briefly before continuing, "Boss wants you to come down for dinner."

The mention of him-'Boss'-sent a shiver coursing down my spine. The word carried a weight of dread, an unspoken threat that clung to my very existence. I avoided her gaze, clutching my knees tighter as if I could disappear into myself.

"He doesn't like waiting, miss," she pressed, her tone tinged with both concern and warning. "I reckon you should stop being so stubborn and comply. It's easier that way."

Her words stung. Comply? The very notion was both infuriating and heartbreaking. I bit back tears and, after a long pause, finally whispered, "I'm not hungry. Tell him I don't feel like eating."

The woman studied me for a moment, her eyes flickering with something between pity and resignation. "It's best to obey, miss. Boss doesn't take kindly to defiance." With that, she sighed softly, turned on her heel, and left without another word.

Her footsteps faded, but her ominous advice lingered, hanging heavy in the air. I sat motionless, my body rigid with fear. The silence was soon shattered by a deafening roar from downstairs.

"Is she stupid enough to decline my offer?"

The voice was his-cold, wrathful, and devoid of mercy. It was followed by the thunderous sound of boots pounding against the staircase, each step louder and more threatening than the last.

Sweat beaded on my forehead as panic clawed at my chest. My breathing quickened, each inhale ragged and shallow. I stared at the door, the thin barrier between me and the tempest drawing near. My heart pounded wildly, and every instinct screamed at me to flee.

But where could I go?

Desperation drove me toward the bathroom. Maybe, just maybe, I could lock myself inside and buy some time. But before I could reach it, the door burst open with a force that sent it flying off its hinges.

The crash was deafening, and I barely managed to leap aside as the splintered wood hurtled past me. My heart leaped to my throat as I turned