Chapter 15
Azur
R aazos’s blood , had a female ever made me so fucking infuriated before? I felt like I was on the verge of a rage, but I couldn’t tell if it was from the high off her blood or because she made mine boil.
Maybe both.
Likely both.
“You’ve heard wrong,” she added, glaring, even when her cheeks were still flushed from her orgasm.
I had half a mind to push her back against the door and feed a second time. I would laugh as she moaned her pleasure because at least an orgasm would tie that tongue into knots and she would stop lying to me for a damn moment.
“Do you always have to have the last word, wife ?” I bit out.
“Do you?” she snapped back.
When I left this room, I was going straight into mine to rip off my pants that felt three sizes too small. Then I would furiously fuck my fist so that I could think straight .
I had never expected for the blood madness to be this distracting. To be this frustrating.
This is a problem, I couldn’t help but think.
When I’d taken a Hara daughter for my own, I hadn’t expected to want to fuck her.
Instead, I had wanted her fear. I had wanted her submission. I had wanted her coward of a father to know that I would enjoy tormenting her. That I would find pleasure in it.
Because blood was blood.
If he refused to pay for his injustices, then I would make his eldest daughter pay instead before I destroyed his entire House in the eyes of the universe. For seventeen years , my family had been left in the dark. My mother’s heart had been broken when she’d passed into the next realm. Only until recently had we known the truth about what had happened to Aina on Pe’ji.
Who could have foreseen that Gemma Hara would be my kyrana ?
It was a sick joke. Another injustice against House Kaalium.
But I wondered if it was a lesson from our gods and goddesses. I wondered if this was meant to humble me. An obstacle that needed to be overcome…or a warning that this was not the way to redeeming Aina’s lost soul.
With a dawning grim realization, I realized that this punishing desire—hot and needful and frustrating—meant one thing.
Eventually, I would fuck my wife.
Either during one of my rages, fueled by her own blood, when my restraint and control was at its weakest. Or I would fuck her to make a point . To show her that she could give me that sharp tongue but that I could still make her scream for me. That I could control her, that I could make her weak and needy, that I could make her submit.
Resignation—mingled with the alarming sensation of anticipation—thrummed through me.
Gemma was still glaring at me in her thin dress. Kylorr females rarely wore such garments. Flying in dresses, I assumed, would be considered an inconvenient annoyance, as Kalia had often grumbled to me.
But on Gemma…I found the sight of her pointed nipples through the soft material arousing. And there was a certain illicit thrill in my belly, knowing that I could push up the hem and she’d be bared to me, ready for a rough, punishing fuck.
The taste of her blood was still on my tongue, and already, I was hungry for more. I wondered how much more of my venom she could take. So much that a simple brush of my claws against her skin could trigger an orgasm?
I took a step toward her.
I heard her harsh swallow, saw the way her gaze flitted over my body, gauging the new swelling of my strength.
I nearly grinned.
“Do I make you nervous?” I asked her, continuing to approach. There was something infinitely appealing about hate-fucking her. Perhaps because for the Kylorr, going through a rage and having sex were—more often than not—intertwined. It was what our ancestors had done. Gone out battling and come back to their wives and lovers and kyranas to unleash the pent-up aggression and savor their victory. Sex had been a celebration .
And with Gemma?
That was what it would be.
A celebration of her submission.
Venom dripped from my fangs at the thought.
I heard the door knob rattle behind her when her back met it again.
“We can come to an understanding, Azur,” she murmured quietly, her voice oddly calm. “An agreement.”
Intrigued, I cocked my head, stepping into her space. Her breath hitched when I brushed the pads of my fingers over her bite mark, staring at the small wound. A human gentleman, if he had the power to, would heal the skin for her. All it would take was a little of my own blood, mixed with my venom, and the wound would be gone within moments.
But I didn’t. I wanted her to feel me. I wanted her to remember me, all of her waking moments.
“An agreement,” I repeated. On her next inhale, the swells of her small breasts brushed my chest. “Are you bargaining with me, little wife?”
“Yes,” she said quietly, her eyes darting between my own. My left wing twitched briefly. “You want to feed from me. And you know you can. Whenever you want. But I won’t fight you. Not unless…”
She blinked, lifting her chin slightly.
“Not unless you want me to,” she finished. “If you want me to be afraid, then I’ll be afraid.”
She thought I got off on her fear.
She wouldn’t be wrong, came that treacherous little voice in the back of my mind. I had found pleasure in her fear.
“Sometimes a Kylorr wishes for blood feedings multiple times a day,” I couldn’t help but growl. Her scent swam in my nostrils, making more venom drip on my tongue.
Her voice was quiet and strong as she said, “And I would give you those feedings.”
“You would be on a supplement to replenish your blood quickly,” I rasped. “On baanye .”
“I’ll take it,” she answered.
I grunted. Reaching forward, I clasped her chin, tilting her face up. Her cheeks were still flushed. I could still smell the remnants of her arousal and the thick, maddening scent of her orgasm, slick between her thighs.
“I won’t ask for much,” she told me. “It may be what you were willing to give me anyway.”
“And that is?” I asked quietly, strangely fascinated by this little exchange between us.
It wasn’t often that a female challenged me. I was used to obedience. I was the Kyzaire of Laras. A High Lord, born as the eldest heir into a legacy. All of Krynn, even the nations beyond the seas, knew of House Kaalium. They knew of my bloodline—the dark, the bright, and the bloody history of it.
Most wouldn’t dare to go against my wishes. My orders.
But here was my human bride, daring to strike a deal, one she was powerless in. She knew it. But she dared to try anyway.
I couldn’t help but be impressed. She was brave, I’d give her that.
“You won’t keep me as a prisoner here,” she murmured, a small swallow punctuating her words. “I would be free to spend my days as I wish.”
A lengthy silence stretched between us as we stared at one another.
“I can take multiple feedings if I wish and when I wish to,” I informed her, wondering what she’d do with the words. “I don’t have to give you anything in return.”
Quietly and slowly, she said, “And during those feedings I can be afraid. Or if you don’t want me to be afraid…then I can be anything you want.”
My cock throbbed at her words, the knot at the base of my shaft swelling even further.
A ragged breath left me, unexpected and rough.
There was no mistaking the hidden meaning of her words. There was no mistaking the sudden rush of blood that traveled straight to my cock, making it difficult to think. And around her? I knew that was dangerous.
My hand left her chin, sliding up her cheek and into her hair. Cradling the back of her head, I stared down at her.
“If I wanted you afraid…”
“Then I would try to escape you,” she whispered.
“If I wanted you to fight me…”
“Then I would fight you.”
“If I wanted you to submit…”
A short inhale whistled through her nostrils. “Then I would kneel before you and bare whatever part of me you wished to feed from.”
An erotic fantasy rose, conjured by the words. Of her with her legs spread for me, her cheeks flushed, those heavy breasts bared. Of my fangs piercing the soft, sensitive flesh of her inner thigh, sinking deep.
This was new for me.
Feeding off a giver…it was a need. Like breathing. Like flying. Visiting a giver’s establishment was no different than visiting a local tavern in the village. A Kylorr went there to feed, to drink, and then they would pay and go. There was nothing sexual about it unless it was with a lover. And then there might be blood play and biting involved.
With a kyrana , however, everything about it became sexual. A primal need that spoke to the baser instincts of our berserker natures. Wild and untamed. The push and pull of submission and power, the crazed desire and the unfathomable hunger.
She was offering to play whatever role I wished for her to play. To satisfy those needs, though she couldn’t possibly understand what she was offering me.
I pretended to deliberate. I pretended to weigh her words even though my heart was suddenly beating furiously in my chest.
The longer I deliberated, the more she fidgeted. And so I waited even longer.
“I won’t go anywhere you absolutely forbid me to,” she murmured, suddenly nervous I’d deny her. “But outside the keep, I would like to explore the village. And go down to the sea.”
The obvious desire in her words created a vice of guilt and unease, tight and uncomfortable. I didn’t want to feel it. But I did. I didn’t want to soften toward her.
I’d dragged this out long enough.
“You may go into the village and down the coastal trail but only with a guard,” I told her. “You will not leave the keep’s grounds without my permission, do you understand?”
There was still a burning little flare of frustration in those eyes. This was a female who wasn’t used to being told what to do. Already, I knew she would fight me on this. I knew she would challenge me at every step, and I wondered if I’d made a terrible mistake.
Regardless, I’d never intended to keep her locked up. But I had hoped to keep her from the village. From the eyes of Laras, so questions weren’t raised when I eventually returned her to the Collis.
It’s inevitable, I knew. With the festival and harvest season approaching, she would be discussed liberally, our sudden marriage speculated on endlessly.
“And…and when would you like your next feeding?” she asked.
My eyes narrowed. I felt restless. I felt, strangely, like I’d been defeated, whilst also feeling the thrum of victory at her small surrender. A thoroughly odd mixture of emotions.
“Whenever it pleases me,” I growled, reaching for the handle of the door behind her. “I don’t have to give you a schedule.”
Was it my imagination, or did she huff ?
She stumbled away from the door so I could leave. My skin felt tight. My wings were twitching. My cock was still as hard as stone.
I turned around just before she could shut the door in my face.
Dropping low, I murmured harshly, “And at the morning meal tomorrow, I want your neck on display. I want everyone to see my bite on you and all the others that will join it.”
Gemma’s breath hitched. I felt the beginnings of my seed push from the tip of my cock, my thick seal pulsing at the base of my shaft.
This is a problem, I couldn’t help but think again, gritting my jaw as I turned, leaving her slack-jawed and flushing.
This dangerous, dangerous game could ruin everything.