Aira stepped out into the corridor, the door clicking shut behind her with finality, only to meet the steady, unblinking gazes of the two guards stationed outside Zyren’s chamber. Their heads dipped in a low bow, acknowledging her not as a guest but as something far more scandalous.
It didn’t help that she felt the exact moment their gaze skipped past the collar on her neck down to the dress she wore with them not daring to go any further.
Heat bloomed across her face, spreading down her neck in a flush that screamed of something she couldn’t name. Embarrassment. Humiliation. Rage. All of it.
She took a step back, wobbling slightly on her still-weak legs. The corridor’s light was dim, warm gold pooling on the velvet carpet that muffled her footsteps. Cold, intricate stone walls towered beside her, draped with embroidered tapestries of wars and kings and blood.
Her stomach no longer hurt and her head no longer thumped but the weakness in her body still remained as she took one more step forward beefier she froze.
Aira’s heart pounded against her ribs like a prisoner. Where would she go?
Her room — no, not hers anymore. Harriet had taken it, smug and willing, her footsteps echoing through the halls now with a confidence Aira didn’t have. The thought of seeing her... of hearing Harriet’s voice curling with mockery — it made Aira’s skin crawl.
She turned slowly, fingers curling at her sides, lips pressed into a thin line.
There was nowhere else.
Swallowing hard, she headed back and pushed the door open again.
The door hung ajar as her eyes landed directly on Zyren — and every inch of him.
Her breath caught. Her soul might’ve stopped.
He stood in front of the tall mirror near the wardrobe, toweling off his hair, pale skin gleaming like sculpted moonlight. He wasn’t just naked — he was unapologetically bare, like a god carved from temptation and arrogance. His back was broad, tapering into a lean waist, strong thighs, and the lower member that hung between his legs naked and much bigger than she remembered.
Aira’s eyes darted away so fast her neck ached.
She staggered back a step, the door creaking beneath her grasp as she hurriedly closed it conosidering the fact that Zyren was naked.
He didn’t flinch. Didn’t hide. His red gaze seared through her like wine set aflame. Slowly, deliberately, he reached for the robe hanging beside him — not in haste, not in shame, but with a cat’s grace. And still... still, Aira couldn’t stop the image burned into her mind.
"You came back! So quickly," he said mildly, draping the robe over one shoulder, not bothering to close it, his voice almost mocking.
Her ears rang. "Where else would I go?." She asked unable to bare to meet his gaze as she turned and instantly headed towards the door by her right.
She fled before he could say anything more, booting across the room and into the bathroom, which was the nearest place she could hide. Her palm slammed against the door. But just before it could slam close it didn’t close.
A pressure pushed back.
Aira raised her gaze.
Zyren stood on the other side, one hand braced on the doorframe. His eyes red— crimson, consuming — locked with hers.
"Move!" she barked, voice cracking with panic. "Get out—"
"You’re red," he said softly, cutting her off. His voice was low, half-wicked, half-curious. "All the way to your ears."
She cursed under her breath and pushed harder, but his strength was absolute. He didn’t need to try.
"Don’t flatter yourself," she snapped.
"I don’t need to," Zyren murmured, stepping in with slow, deliberate force. "But you could’ve looked away sooner."
Aira’s hands trembled on the door. Her legs refused to move. And worst of all — the heat.
That unbearable heat was back.
It was the main reason she ran like she was being chased by the hounds of hell.
It was the reason her hands trembled and her legs felt like jelly.
The damn heat , curled in her belly like a slow-burning flame, crawling lower, tightening her breath and leaving her cheeks in a permanent blaze.
"Leave! Do you need something?" she hissed.
"Isn’t it obvious?," Zyren replied stepping closer.
He wore nothing but a robe but it wasn’t enough to hide the size of his roaring member.
He was too close. The room was too small.
The scent of him — something ancient and iron-rich — filled the space between them.
"I’m not a toy," she whispered, eyes darting to the floor. "I’m not yours."
"I never said you were," he said. "But you came back."
Her hand shot out and slapped him across the chest — not hard enough to hurt, but sharp enough to stop his words.
"I came back," she growled, "because I didn’t have a choice!"
"I didn’t ask for this," she continued, voice shaking. "Not your bed!. Not your... interest."
"I will not sleep with you!" She frankly told him . ’Even if it kills me’ swallowing the rest in her throat.
His expression shifted — barely. But she saw it: the flare of nostrils, the brief bite of his jaw clenching. Like something inside him tightened, drawn taut by a thread he didn’t control.
"You think I care what you asked for?" he said lowly, moving closer, eyes burning with that strange, restrained hunger. "I didn’t ask for you either. But you’re here. And whether you want to admit it or not — You want me!"
"You want me inside of you just as much as I—-"
He didn’t believe her.
Neither did her body.
Because even now, even in her defiance, her heart thumped like a drum under her ribs. The heat had become unbearable — aching, pulsing in her lower belly like a tide waiting to crash.
Zyren stepped forward again, cornering her gently, hands on either side of the doorway.
"Sex means nothing," he said, voice like silk over a dagger. "It’s pleasure. It’s instinct. A release. I could make you feel things you’ve never dreamed of."
"It’s useless! Don’t try to seduce me!" she snapped, voice trembling with effort.
"I’m not trying to seduce you," he replied, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "I’m trying to show you that it doesn’t have to be every time we both crave something more. It can be... something else."
Aira looked up at him, defiant — and trembling.
"You should have said that before you killed my parents!" She snapped not surprised to see the subtle tightening of his jaw as he backed away with a look in his eyes that looked dangerous for a moment.
Enough to make her step back as her hands balled into fists hard enough for her nails to draw blood from where they dug into her palms.
The air was tense and her body felt even more tense as she stared at him even as she hardened her heart and spoke again.
"Not unless you offer me something I want."
Zyren’s gaze sharpened, a flicker of confusion flashing behind the red.
Aira lifted her chin.
"An open promise," she said. "A check I get to fill in later. Anything. And you swear it."
Then, he laughed — low and soft. Not mocking. Just surprised.
"You want to bargain with me now?" he asked, voice husky.
"Yes?" she asked in an even more snappish tone. Aware that she didn’t have any bargaining rights since in a few moments she would be so out of her mind she would soon beg him to have her.
Something they both knew. Still she knew he would agree. It was the kind of games he liked to play.
Silence stretched between them.
"Anything," he said. "One promise. Yours to name when the time comes." Stretching his hand out palms up for her to place hers in his his.
Aira hesitated. She couldn’t help it. She also couldn’t help but regret not asking for more.
And when her fingers brushed his, something cracked. Broke. Opened.
Zyren leaned down that very instant, his mouth brushing her jaw, slow, almost reverent. Not claiming. Not yet.
Her hand trembled as it pressed against his chest — not to push him away, but to feel the rhythm of his heart. It was steady. Too steady for the desire she could see in his eyes.
They stood there for a breath, then another. Her waiting for what she knew was to come only to hear him whisper to her.
"Kiss me!" He whispered and unlike before Aira gritted her teeth together until she felt pain even as she leaned in to do as he asked.
Realizing that she had made a bad bargain but one she had to keep.
It was clumsy at first, startled. Her lips collided with his like a challenge more than an invitation. But he responded — slow at first, then with a hunger that made her knees buckle.
His hand slid to her back, drawing her closer as her arms came around his neck. The taste of him was dark and cold and electric, like storm-kissed stone. His body radiated heat — no, power — that sank into her bones.
Aira resisted at first even as she felt his fangs scrap against her lips drawing the slightest of bloods a moment later she could barely hold her moans in.
Aira moaned softly, fingers curling into his hair, and Zyren groaned in return. It was low, deep, primal. His hands explored her with restraint at first — the curve of her back, the line of her waist — and then with something more.
He picked her up without warning stepping out and back into the bedroom, setting her gently on the vanity’s marble counter.
She felt her nightgown shift against her skin, his fingers just barely touching her thigh. Her body arched into his, seeking something she didn’t dare name.