9. Lyra

9

LYRA

I can't help but feel a sense of defeat as I find myself enslaved once again, this time in a hot, dark, and sweaty place. The air is thick with the scent of damp earth and something else I can't quite place. I try to push down the panic rising in my chest, but it's no use. I'm trapped.

Zoldryn, my new master. His long horns and obsidian scaled skin nearly allow him to blend in with the dark surroundings. He's mean and grumpy, and I can't help but feel a sense of unease around him.

"Come to bed, human," he commands, his voice a low growl that sends shivers down my spine.

I turn around and see him sprawled naked on a stone slab, his obsidian scales glinting in the dim light. My heart races as I take in his massive form, the muscles rippling under his skin. I wipe the sweat from my brow, trying to calm myself.

"I'm not sure that's proper for a master and slave," I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

My heart sinks into the pits of my stomach as I realize the implications of his words. He's going to force me to have sex with him. I've heard of masters using their slaves as sex toys, but Master Viccar was never interested in me. I was too stupid for his liking, I suppose. Maybe that's why Brin refused to run with me. He would have noticed the moment she was gone. I don't want to know what that feels like. I don't want to-

"OBEY ME HUMAN!" he shouts, his gravelly voice reverberating off the walls and echoing back to me like a thousand commands. I can feel the weight of his words pressing down on me, making it hard to breathe.

I cower onto the stone slab, laying as far from him as possible. I can feel the heat radiating off of his body, and it makes me feel even more uncomfortable. I close my eyes and try to block out the sound of his heavy breathing.

As I lay there, I can't help but wonder what my future holds. Will I ever be free from this life of slavery? Or am I doomed to spend the rest of my days in the service of others? I try to push the thoughts out of my head, but they linger like a bad dream.

To my relief, Zoldryn doesn't force himself on me. But his gaze bores into me as I tremble, and I can't help but feel like a mouse caught in the gaze of a hawk. The hard, cold slab beneath me is unpleasant, but I don't dare complain. I flinch as Zoldryn shifts closer, touching my arm and grasping my hand possessively.

"You are mine now," he growls, sending a confusing thrill through me. His touch is rough and calloused, but there's a strange gentleness to it that I can't quite place. I try to pull my hand away, but he only tightens his grip.

"What do you want from me?" I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.

Zoldryn's lips curl into a smirk. "That's a good question, human," he says. "But I think we'll save that for another time."

I curl up on the stone slab, trying to find some semblance of comfort in the cold, hard surface. But all I can feel is the weight of Zoldryn's gaze on me, and the confusing mix of fear and excitement that courses through my veins. I don't know what the future holds, but I know one thing for sure: I'm not going to give up without a fight.

Despite my fear, I find myself relaxing against Zoldryn's warmth. His heat is comforting, a stark contrast to the chill of the stone beneath me. I clutch my necklace tightly, feeling the smooth stones press into my palm.

I can't help but feel a pang of guilt as I think about Brin. She sacrificed herself so that I could escape, and now I'm right back where I started. Nothing has changed. I'm still a slave, still at the mercy of someone else's whims.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath, trying to calm my racing thoughts. Maybe there's a reason why Brin gave me this necklace. Maybe it's more than just a trinket. I run my fingers over the intricate design. It has to be if she was so adamant that I take it. A family heirloom, perhaps?

I don't even know my family. The only parental figure I had were the slaves who raised me to be just as submissive as them. I wonder if they ever thought about escaping, if they ever felt the same fear and anger that I do now.

But there's no use dwelling on the past. I need to focus on the present, on finding a way out of this situation. I take another deep breath, feeling the weight of the necklace in my hand. Maybe it's just a superstition, but I can't help but feel like it's giving me strength.