Of course, she didn’t get far.
Zyren stepped effortlessly into her path, his expression unreadable save for the sly glint in his crimson eyes. He was amused—and unbothered—as Aria glared up at him, her fury unhidden, blazing in her gaze like a silent command for him to move.
He didn’t. If anything, the slight tug at the corners of his mouth turned into a full smile, shining with dark humor.
"You don’t look so well," he said smoothly, his voice laced with mock concern. His eyes didn’t miss the way she clutched the fur coat tighter around her trembling body as she took a careful step back.
She knew. Knew his senses were too sharp—too inhuman. It wouldn’t take him long to piece together what was happening to her, what she was struggling so desperately to contain.
"I—I think he gave me Ka-Kama Rasa," she stammered, her voice cracking as she gestured toward Bavon, whose brows lifted in pure, stunned disbelief.
What he’d given her was painful, yes—but short-lived. Temporary. He had barely begun the actual dosage he’d been ordered to administer. Kama Rasa—the potion of desire—hadn’t even left his shelf.
"I never—" he started, raising a hand as if to defend himself, but Aria’s voice suddenly rose over his, fierce and shaking.
"I need to take a bath!" she breathed, her voice louder than she intended as her gaze shot to Zyren’s face. What she saw there made her flinch inwardly. His red eyes had darkened, fixed on her with an expression that was far too intense.
"You can’t leave yet. You were just ill," he said, tone laced with something dangerous, something that made her heartbeat stutter. Her skin flushed again, but not from shame—from heat. A deep, crawling heat that made her bones ache and her pulse hammer.
Whatever it was—whatever had awakened in her—she could not, would not, allow it to overtake her again like before , not with Zyren standing this close. She gave a faint shake of her head, but her legs trembled.
"You’re sweating," he observed coolly, stepping closer. "You’re clearly not—"
"I’m fine!" she cut him off , her voice trembling. It wasn’t convincing, not even to herself. Her tone lowered, almost pleading. "Can... can I please go back to my room?"
It was a quiet, desperate request—nothing like the proud, defiant Aria he was used to. But she didn’t care. She just wanted to be away from him, away from that overwhelming presence and those crimson eyes that saw far too much.
If she could grow wings and vanish, she would have.
Zyren didn’t answer immediately. The silence stretched unbearably, and she dropped her head, the pressure building in her body becoming unbearable. Her thighs clenched together instinctively, painfully. The shame was a fire in her gut.
She was just about to bolt—ready to run no matter who stood in her way—when she saw him nod.
"Fine. I’ll take you back to your—"
"I’d rather walk," she interjected quickly, cutting him off with a brittle edge to her voice. The very idea of him touching her made her stomach twist. She’d barely taken a step toward the guards, ready to escape, when she felt it—a strong arm looped swiftly around her waist.
She gasped as he lifted her clean off the ground with inhuman ease, pressing her to his side like she weighed nothing. Her heart pounded, not from fear, but from the unbearable urge to cling to him, to lean in. She resisted it fiercely, lowering her gaze to the floor to hide the conflict raging on her face.
She didn’t speak. She didn’t fight. She just stared at the polished floor beneath them, willing herself to get through the next few minutes.
But he had barely started walking when her brows furrowed. His pace was slower than usual—too deliberate. She raised her eyes, confused, only to freeze.
His gaze was locked on her, burning with something darker than amusement.
"It’s strange," he said quietly, lips brushing near her ear. "Compared to before, you truly look ill."
His words, spoken in that deep, cutting tone, struck her like a slap. She knew where this was going. She braced for it.
"I thought it might be helpful," he went on, his voice smooth and cruel, "for Bavon to teach you what happens to people who lie to me--like he did the others"
A chill rippled down her spine.
"I even timed it perfectly—so I could swoop in and save you."
Aria’s breath caught.
"But this..." Zyren’s eyes narrowed. "Bavon knows better than to give you Kama Rasa. So why," he leaned in, lips almost brushing her cheek, "is your body begging me to take you to bed?"
Her face, already flushed, turned crimson.
Aria’s hands balled into fists against his chest, burning with rage. She wanted nothing more than to slap the smug look off his face—but she couldn’t. Hitting him would only hurt her. Worse, he might actually retaliate and order her hands to be cut off.
He smiled but beneath his human-like skin was nothing but a cold-hearted monster.
"I would never lie in your bed!" she spat, venom in her voice as she glared up at him.
Zyren’s arm tightened beneath her ever so slightly, and her body betrayed her—shuddering at the contact. Humiliated, she dropped her gaze again, hiding behind her hair.
The ache in her body was rising, pulsing like a second heartbeat. Her pride was all that kept her upright. Pride and grief. The memory of her father and brother’s deaths were the only weights keeping her tethered to herself.
She bit down hard on her lip, the sharp sting of pain grounding her even as blood coated her tongue.
"Good," Zyren murmured, voice like silk-wrapped steel. "As long as you know that my bed is the only one you’re ever allowed to go near."
His pace didn’t change. If anything, it slowed more.
Aria clenched her jaw, furious and desperate. Every inch of her felt like it was overheating, sweat beginning to slick her back, her thoughts beginning to blur. She rubbed her thighs together without realizing it, seeking the smallest relief. It didn’t help.
As they reached her floor, Zyren leaned in again, voice a low whisper that curled around her spine like smoke.
"I could help, you know. Just like I did before."