"Yes! But even guests should know not to covet the host’s things!" Zyren said, his voice still low but sharp enough to slice the air around them like a blade. Aria flinched slightly, her spine stiffening at the implication.
The growl that came from deep within King Jared’s chest was unmistakable, low and dangerous. His gaze flicked over to Aria—sharp and accusing—just as she was trying to pry Zyren’s arm from around her waist or at least lessen the pressure, only to fail.
"You speak things you know nothing about! It’s your things that couldn’t help but move towards me!" he snapped, and Aria felt her cheeks redden and burn with anger.
The words stung. Yes, she had indeed been the one to walk toward him—but that didn’t mean he hadn’t allowed it, encouraged it even. Moreover, the way they spoke about her incensed her to no end. Their voices clashed like thunder, but she was the lightning caught between.
She found herself opening her mouth to speak, her tone cutting as she glared straight at Jared, and inwardly at Zyren behind her.
"I’m not a thing!" she snapped, flinging her red hair out of her face in a huff.
She watched Jared smile at her in a way that showed he was more amused than anything else before he turned around, announcing his leave.
"I’ve seen enough of the garden! The red flowers were particularly pretty but nothing else caught my attention!" he said.
Aria couldn’t help the nagging feeling she felt that Jared had been talking about her and not the flowers around them.
Jared’s steps were fast as he left, but instead of feeling relieved, Aria felt none of that. Zyren’s grip around her waist hadn’t lessened even as she felt him turn her around to face him.
His expression was still neutral and blank, but the look in his eyes made her want to jerk herself away from him and run. His eyes were red, but there was a depth to them that made Aria flinch.
He didn’t have to shout. He didn’t have to bare his fangs. Just one look was enough.
"What? Did you come here thinking he could help?" he asked.
His voice was still cold, but this time, there was something else under it—hurt? Disgust? She couldn’t tell.
Aira tried to step back only to feel Zyren’s hand on the small of her spine hold her back with no place for her to go.
"I gave you three days before the ritual but it’s clear that you don’t need it!" he said.
"It seems to me that you can barely wait to bond with any man you lay eyes on!" he continued.
Aria heard her heart pound louder and more incessantly in her chest than ever before.
She was trapped. Not just by his arms, but by the mess of her own choices. Of all the places she could run, none felt far enough.
Yet did she regret talking to King Jared, the answer was obvious.
No! She didn’t! At least she knew not to expect something more from him when he had given her the same exact option Zyren did even if he looked more sincere.
For a full moment, Aira found it difficult to speak back. Her throat clenched, not from fear exactly, but from the staggering weight of Zyren’s presence. The intensity of his aura alone was way more than she could bear, wrapping around her like a velvet noose, thick with something both cold and burning. She stared at him, her breath caught in her lungs, even as she felt the steady pressure of his hand against her back—low on her waist, as though he meant to stake his claim into her skin itself.
This continued until she could no longer stand aside and allow it to continue. Something inside her cracked, the weight of her silence pressing against her own ribs, forcing the words up her throat like fire.
"Fine! You want me to bond with you then I refuse to continue to be your pet!" Aira said, the words sharp and clear even as they shook the air between them. She hadn’t meant for her voice to sound so loud, hadn’t realized how much fury was threaded into her tone until it spilled out of her chest. She’d asked for something for herself, something real—and even she was shocked when the words came out with more force than she intended.
Zyren’s eyes narrowed.
"You still think you can run from—"
"I’m not trying to run from you!" she snapped back before he could finish, stepping closer instead of retreating. "If I’m going to do such a ritual then I refuse to be treated as a pet or a slave!"
She hadn’t even fully realized she was raising her voice to him until the words had already formed, ringing out in the quiet corridor. And yet, her heart wouldn’t slow down. Her fists had curled by her sides, trembling—not from fear, but from conviction.
Zyren’s expression shifted, almost imperceptibly, as he leveled a slightly confused look at her face. For the first time, she saw a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes.
"What would you like to be then?" he asked, his tone unreadable—low and even, but dangerous beneath the surface.
Aira hadn’t even waited for the full breath of his question to pass before she spoke.
"I obey you..." she said, this time with a lower voice, but still firm, "...but that doesn’t mean I have to obey anyone else!" Her voice was resolute. She wasn’t just demanding to be elevated above the guards or the other vampires. No—Aira was trying to rise above the lords. She was demanding a place no one like her had ever dared to take.
Zyren looked at her, just as unreadable as before. But this time, his silence was loaded. Heavy. Then, without a word, Aira pushed further.
"Don’t I belong to you? Won’t I be bonded to you?" she asked, her voice shaking ever so slightly at the edges. Her hands curled tighter, nails digging into her palms until she was just a breath away from drawing blood. Her eyes—torn between challenge and plea—remained fixed on his, refusing to break away. Refusing to yield.