"Lie flat on the bed and spread your legs. Eyes on me! I want you to touch yourself!" he ordered, his voice low but sharp, laced with dangerous intent. His red eyes darkened, a flicker of something savage glinting beneath them—hot, commanding, and utterly unrelenting. There was no mistaking it. If she dared say no, if she hesitated, she would regret it.
Her eyes widened in alarm, her lashes trembling as her mouth fell slightly open in disbelief. Her breath caught in her throat as she realized he wasn’t joking. There was no teasing smile, no gentleness—only command and expectation. He was serious.
"You have demands. I have demands of my own," he added, his voice lower now, like silk brushing a blade’s edge.
Aria’s heart began to pound, each beat thudding furiously against her ribs like it was trying to escape her chest. Her fingers curled tightly into the sheets beneath her. She tried to swallow, tried to press down the rising panic that clawed its way from the pit of her stomach. She had known what she was getting into. She’d made the bargain. But this—this was something else.
"That’s all you want?" she asked, voice quiet and tinged with hope, a pitiful spark she hadn’t meant to reveal. Her cheeks burned.
Zyren stepped back, the movement fluid, controlled, and yet charged with tension. He dropped to the edge of the bed, his tall frame sinking down like a panther poised to strike. His arms rested by his sides, deceptively relaxed, but his body was taut, as though it took everything in him not to lunge at her.
He didn’t say another word.
Aria, trembling, didn’t dare defy him. Her breath shallow, she slowly leaned back against the pillows, forcing her legs open even as her instincts screamed to clamp them shut. The flush on her skin deepened, spreading from her face down to her chest and thighs. She could feel the heat of his gaze burning into her skin the moment she spread her legs—hot, possessive, devouring.
She gritted her teeth as her hand slipped between her legs, her fingers trembling as they brushed against her own heat. It was like trying to shield herself and expose herself all at once. Her stomach clenched. Still, the heat inside her refused to dissipate. It grew stronger—deeper—pulling at something low in her belly that she couldn’t fight.
Her touch started light, hesitant, but the sensation was overwhelming. Sparks of pleasure raced through her like wildfire, making her arch against the bed as her breath hitched in broken gasps. She was shocked by how fast it grew, how her body responded despite the tension locking up her chest.
"Slide your fingers in," Zyren ordered, voice rougher now, velvet wrapped around steel.
She obeyed before thinking, gasping as her legs widened even more of their own accord. Her fingers plunged inside, the wet sound of it echoing between them. Her breath came faster now, her back bowing, one hand reaching up to graze her breast as the other worked in rhythm, faster, deeper. Her lips parted on a breathless moan, her hips moving of their own accord, her thoughts dissolving into sensation.
Her head tilted to the side, her mouth open, panting, lost in the haze of pleasure—until a jolt of sensation slammed into her. Another finger slid inside her. Not hers. It was longer, firmer, unrelenting—and it curled exactly where it would hurt the most.
Her body jerked, her legs quivering.
Tears clung to her lashes as a warm mouth suddenly closed over her breast, teeth grazing the sensitive skin. She cried out, the sound raw and hoarse as a new wave of need clawed through her. She was burning—blazing—desperate for something she couldn’t name.
She wanted to finish.
But just as she was about to fall over the edge, both fingers—hers and his—slipped out of her at once, leaving her achingly empty.
Aria gasped, blinking through the haze, her eyes wild with need and confusion. Her gaze snapped up—and there he was, Zyren, watching her like a predator savoring the sight of his prey coming undone. His eyes locked onto hers, unblinking.
"You want to finish, don’t you?" he asked, voice dark and thick with promise. He caught her wrist and guided her hand lower—until her palm pressed against something hot and throbbing.
Her breath hitched. It was him. The full length of him, rigid and pulsing beneath her touch. Her fingers twitched as her hand curled instinctively around the head of him, sticky with his own desire.
Her heart pounded—not from fear, but anticipation. A truth she loathed.
Zyren leaned closer, breath fanning over her face like a furnace. His voice was low and wicked. "Open your legs and pull me in."
The scent of them—salt and heat, musk and sweat—hung thick in the air. It wrapped around her, dizzying. Her legs parted, drawn open by her own traitorous need. Zyren moved between them, pressing himself against her, grinding slowly into the slick heat that awaited him.
The pressure alone made her arch off the bed, nails digging into his arms as sparks shot through her nerves.
"Do it yourself," he whispered into her ear, fangs grazing her skin in a brush that promised blood—but not yet.
She obeyed without thought, grabbing him, guiding the thick head of him to her entrance. She didn’t think—couldn’t. The hunger was too much. The ache too loud. She pressed him in.
Just the tip, and her entire body convulsed.
Her eyes flew open, breath stolen from her lungs as the full length of him slowly filled her—deeper and deeper—wider than anything she’d ever known. It didn’t stop. He didn’t let her breathe.
"Wait—wait!" she cried, voice cracking. But Zyren only growled, a low warning in her ear, continuing to push.
"You are not to close your eyes," he said, slowing his pace just enough for her to adjust, though his gaze burned into her, daring her to disobey.
Tears clung to the corners of her lashes. She couldn’t look away. Couldn’t breathe. When his lips grazed the corners of her eyes, her chest tightened in rage. She hated him. Hated that he did things like that—soft things—when they meant nothing to him.
Then he pushed again. Her back arched, her hands clinging to him as she felt him deeper—too deep.
"You’re all the way in! There’s no more—" she gasped, only to stop midsentence.
He shifted, lifting her legs higher, parting them wider, revealing to her eyes the truth.
There was more of him. Still more.
And she realized—last time, he hadn’t given her all of him.
And she didn’t know if it was a mercy or...