"You’re a heatblood! You’re a human, but you can mate with Vampires. Even werewolves..." Zyren muttered, a faint edge of distaste pulling at the corners of his mouth as he said the last word.
"Zygons... any creature, to be honest! You can bond with them. Why?" His eyes narrowed slightly, voice carrying more weight now. "Because your blood is mixed. Your ancestors were both Dhampirs and werewolves, which is extremely rare."
His words, although more than he usually ever said in one breath, meant little to Aria. Her face was frozen in confusion, brows drawn tight as her gaze stayed locked on him. Her chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, her mind struggling to wrap itself around words she’d never even heard before.
Dhampirs? The word echoed in her head, strange and foreign, rolling around with no place to settle. She opened her mouth to ask—but the question never left her lips.
Because Zyren had moved. Silently, swiftly—too close.
Her body reacted before she could even finish the thought. Panic surged. She whipped around, shoving herself off the bed in an attempt to flee—but her legs had barely touched the ground when she felt it. The sharp grip of his hand catching her ankles.
She was yanked backward in one quick motion, a gasp tearing out of her throat as her back hit the mattress again. Her breath caught in her lungs, heart pounding as her eyes darted up—only to see him.
Zyren loomed over her now, his frame taut and powerful, both hands braced on either side of her head. He hovered so close that she could feel the warmth of his body, the quiet weight of his intent pressing down harder than his limbs ever could.
His red eyes weren’t glowing. Not exactly. But there was a distinct intensity in them—one that stripped away any hope she had left of leaving this bed on her terms.
And still, she tried.
"Fine!" she blurted out suddenly, desperation sharp in her voice. "I’ll sleep with you—if you promise that my sister will be free!"
Her throat felt dry, but the words were hard and fast.
"She can’t be a slave," Aria added, forcing the last part out while biting down everything else she wanted to say.
It’s just sex, she told herself. I’ll lie still, face down, let him do what he wants and get it over with. I’ll be fine.
But even as she met his gaze, heart pounding against her ribs like a warning drum, she saw it.
The subtle, smug curve of his lips that told her all she needed to know. That look in his eyes—a glittering, amused glint that made it clear: this was no deal. It was a joke to him.
He already had what he wanted.
Aria’s voice dropped, quieter but no less tense. "What do you want?"
She hadn’t expected the answer to come so quickly.
Zyren’s grin widened into something almost unhinged—predatory and smug—as if he’d been waiting for that exact question.
"It’s simple," he said with chilling delight. "I just need you to say a couple of words."
His excitement made her stomach twist. Her instincts screamed at her. Every nerve in her body tensed as if bracing for something terrible.
"Wha—" she started to ask, but he was already speaking again, voice low and even.
"I, Aria Duskbane, give myself to you, Zyren Blackthorn."
Her eyes widened. The room seemed to still.
Those words. That phrasing.
There was something wrong with them. She knew Zyren well enough to understand that he never asked for anything without a deeper reason.
There was no way she could believe that he simply wanted her to say those words and it meant nothing.
She didn’t get time to question him. Because that’s when it hit her.
A wave of sensation pulsed through her lower belly and shot upward, flooding her brain with white-hot sparks that made her gasp and twist against the sheets. Her eyes clenched shut, her jaw locking as the pain and pleasure tangled together in a surge so intense she thought her spine might snap from the force of it.
She turned her face, gasping again. Waiting for it to pass.
The intensity only deepened, wrapping around her like fire. Sweat dampened her back, her dress sticking to her skin.
She could vaguely hear Zyren’s voice—faint and far away.
"I guess talking is over," he muttered under his breath as his fingers caught the edge of her coat.
With one swift motion, he ripped it apart. The fabric tore open, fluttering to the floor.
The short gown she wore beneath had already ridden up her thighs, and Aria couldn’t bring herself to care anymore. Her thoughts were a blur, her skin hypersensitive.
Then his hands touched her.
She gasped again, her back arching as his fingers brushed over her skin like sparks. The pain was gone—like it had never existed. Replaced by something else entirely.
Zyren leaned down and kissed her, rough and deep, stealing the breath from her lungs. As his mouth ravaged hers, his hands slid up to her shoulders, tugging the straps of her gown down, baring her breasts.
She couldn’t stop it. Her chest ached for his touch, and when he cupped her breast in one large hand, a shock of pleasure surged through her like lightning.
He pulled back from her lips, a ribbon of saliva glistening between them, then lowered his head to her chest. His mouth closed around her nipple, tongue swirling around the sensitive nub before grazing it lightly with his teeth.
She gasped again—louder this time—her body writhing beneath him, her hips twitching of their own accord.
And while he toyed with her chest, his other hand slipped lower.
He grinned against her skin when he felt it—her arousal soaking through the fabric. His red eyes flicked upward, glinting with something wicked.
But he didn’t push his fingers inside her.
Despite the growing bulge in his trousers, Zyren was in no rush. He moved slowly, deliberately—like he had all the time in the world.
Aria, meanwhile, had no such patience. Her breaths were shallow, her legs parting further without thought. Her body betrayed her, arching toward him, trembling under his touch.
And he was enjoying every second of it.
Minutes passed—maybe longer—before her mind snapped back into focus. She blinked through the haze, realization dawning on her as she looked down at him.
He still had one nipple between his lips, sucking softly, eyes locked on hers.
She tried to push him off.
But before she could—
She gasped, mouth falling open as two of his fingers slid into her.
"Zy—" she choked, the rest of her protest dying in her throat.
He curled his fingers, pressing against a spot that made her eyes roll back, her mouth slack with soundless shock.
She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t speak.
Her breathing grew ragged, erratic. Her body trembled with each pulse of his fingers, pleasure mounting so quickly it felt like drowning.
He moved fast and her breaths came in faster as he focused his gaze on her not so much as looking elsewhere, his hands around her neck making it impossible for her to look anywhere else but him.