Текст книги "Desire in His Blood"

Автор книги: Zoey Draven

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Chapter 10

Azur

There was a smooth, flat perch on the stone roof of the keep. My father, when he’d been a young boy, had chiseled out the stone with his claws so he might sit comfortably to escape the house.

My father, the great Thraan of House Kaalium, had come into his wings later in life, a failing that his own father had never failed to remind him of.

As such, he’d liked to escape the house, to go up high to satisfy his instincts, though he could not fly there. Instead, he’d escaped out the top window from the east wing’s watch tower and navigated over a perilous, narrow stretch of roof line, before he’d chosen his preferred spot. It overlooked the Silver Sea, glittering and beautiful, especially with the moon rising overhead.

Whenever he was on planet, he still came up here. Last time he’d been on Krynn—though it had been five years—we’d shared a weighty pipe of lore and said absolutely nothing to each other the entire time as we’d listened to the echoing sounds of Laras behind us and heard the waves crash against the cliffside below.

Kythel and I would come out here in our younger years, after Father had shown us this place. Those moments had brought me peace. After what had occurred in Gemma’s rooms, I found that I sorely needed peace.

After plucking out some lore from my cabinets, I flew out the balcony windows of my own private rooms, catapulting myself into the sky, and for one blissful, impulsive moment, I allowed myself to freefall. My stomach curled in on itself, and then I flared my wings wide, heaving them down with zero effort, which surprised me for a brief moment until I realized why—why I was so strong right now. I caught the wind, gliding with it until I circled the keep and landed neatly on the roof. The stone had been worn with time and ample use. I settled into it, tucking my wings behind me and stretching my legs out along the sloped stone tiles.

It was familiar, a comfort.

Taking the small, cylindrical, clear pipe and the vial of lore from my pockets, I stuffed the plant inside it and sparked the inner chamber. Smoke drifted from the tip, and I brought it to my lips, inhaling deeply. The heady, soft smoke whistled down my throat.

A rumble of relief followed. I drew one of my knees up, draping my arm over it, wondering if I would sleep out here again. I inhaled, tasting the earthiness of this particular harvest, a pleasant sweetness that tinged my tongue. It was more flavorful, I realized. I could identify different notes in the lore that I could not before.

Then again, I had my kyrana’s blood flowing through me, nourishing and strengthening me. Strong and impossibly powerful. The moonlight was brighter. The air more crisp. I could fly to the edges of the Kaalium and back without so much as a shuddered breath.

My mood darkened. When I closed my eyes, I could hear her sobs, desperate and aching. A part of me wanted to relish in her misery. She should have been miserable. That was what I’d wanted.

The other part of me…every clear tear dripping down her cheek had felt like a punch in the gut. It had felt like she’d been beating her fists against me with the power of Raazos, stealing my breath and making my heart squeeze with discomfort and restlessness.

My blood mate viewed me as a monster.

Right then, I felt like one.

I wondered if Rivin was right. I wondered if I had gone too far.

It’s too late, I couldn’t help but think. She is already mine.

A shadowed figure in the sky caught my gaze as I peered out over the Silver Sea. Straightening, I frowned, but then I recognized the flying pattern, the gentle sway of small wings.

Grumbling under my breath, I saw Kalia spot me as she flew closer and closer to the keep, the burning blue end of my pipe an easy giveaway.

When she neared, she swooped and I shook my head. Fighting the twitch of my lips, I huffed when she swooped again, as if she were trying to put out the spark on my lore.

“Enough,” I growled out, though the word barely held a hint of bite. “Get down here.”

Kalia dropped down to the roof and wrinkled her nose as she sat beside me, her wing bumping mine, cold from the wind.

“Thank you for informing me of your return, Kyzaire,” she said, her tone sarcastic and cutting, but I knew she was happy to see me. “I had to discover that you returned because I happened upon your bride.”

The last word was spit out into the air as if it were poisoned, and a knot of tension bundled between my shoulders.

“You met her?” I asked. “When?”

Kalia leveled me a narrowed gaze. “At the north entrance. Ludayn was showing her up to her rooms. Which, can I just say, is downright cruel that you put her beside us! In our wing. Our family’s wing, Azur! Why would you do that?”

“Because she is my wife now, Kalia,” I said, my tone curt and clipped.

“Not in the true form,” she argued sullenly.

It was on the tip of my tongue to tell her. To tell her what I’d discovered tonight. That Gemma was my kyrana and as such, she was more than just my wife, my bride.

The Kylorr held their kyranas in the highest regards. And not only because of our bloody history and the importance of the kyranas during the warring times.

Laras would celebrate her. A blood match for their Kyzaire? It was a blessing from the gods. All of them. For surely, with a kyrana at my side, House Kaalium would be unbreakable. Especially if war came with the Kaazor.

If only they could see how much we despise one another, I couldn’t help but think.

“Kalia,” I said softly, taking her hand in mine, even as I took another drag from my pipe. The smoke loosened that tension, right where my wings met between my shoulders. “Promise me that you’ll behave yourself.”

“You sound like Father,” she accused.

I chuffed out a harsh breath, dropping her hand.

“That’s what he said to me when he left Krynn. To behave. To follow your orders, to not stand in your way or our brothers’ ways,” she said softly. “Like I was just waiting to make trouble because that’s all he saw me as.”

“I didn’t mean for it to sound like that,” I told her gently, knowing it was a soft subject for her. “And you know he doesn’t believe that. He loves you more than he loves all of us combined.”

She scoffed, but I knew the words pleased her, that preening little part of her that needed to be first in something. The curse of the youngest child, the only sister among a long line of brothers.

Kalia sighed, turning her finely boned face to look out over the sea. My chest squeezed and I nearly lost my breath. She looked so much like our mother in that moment, dappled silver in the moon, that it was frightening.

Clearing my throat, I asked, “Would you rather live with Kythel? Or Lucen?”

Lucen was our youngest brother—five years younger than Kythel and me—though he was still five years older than Kalia. Since they were closest in age, they’d been attached at the hip when they’d been children. Kalia was closest to Lucen, and I knew the distance from Laras to Salaire, where Lucen was Kyzaire, was great.

“You wish for me to leave?” my sister asked. Though she tried to mask it, I still heard the soft hurt in her voice.

“No,” I said truthfully. “But if Gemma’s presence is uncomfortable for you, you could spend the harvest in Salaire and the winter in Erzos with Kythel.”

“I don’t want to leave Laras,” Kalia said, a hint of relief in her tone. “This is home.”

I nodded, reaching out to drag her closer. I pressed my cheek into her hair as she embraced me back. Affection thrummed through me. Though we’d been born a decade apart, I still remembered the day she’d come into this world, the awe I’d felt at seeing her for the first time. A female. A blessing. Our mother’s wish had finally come true.

“Then you will stay,” I told her. I thought of Gemma’s sobs, the aching, desperate, raw sounds tearing from her throat. I hadn’t been gentle when I’d ripped my fangs from her neck, and I nearly winced at the memory. I surprised myself when I said softly, “Try not to be cruel to her, Kalia.”

She pulled away. “Save the cruelty to you?”

I started as the words hit me square in the chest. Quickly, I took another drag on my pipe, blowing out the silver smoke of the lore when I could hold it no longer.

“Stay away from her,” I said instead. “It’s for the best.”

“You’ll allow her to wander the keep?”

“She’s not a prisoner here,” I reminded her sharply. “You will encounter her. So the offer still stands if you wish to visit Lucen for the harvest.”

“She’s your wife, Azur,” she pointed out with a sag of her shoulders. “She’ll always be here now. So why should I have to run away from my home?”

We lapsed into silence. I was buzzing with the energy from the feeding. Not even lore could suppress it.

In the darkness, hunched over as I was, Kalia didn’t seem to notice I’d grown or that the seams of my clothes were perilously close to ripping. A mercy. I didn’t want to face her horror if she realized it. I couldn’t bear it right now.

“You want any?” I asked Kalia, the question meant to lighten the mood.

Her eyes went to my pipe, and she rolled her eyes in a very human way. Something she’d learned from her friend in the village, no doubt.

Kalia didn’t like the taste of lore. One of the few Kylorr I knew that didn’t partake in traditions that went back to our ancestors.

“Isn’t it strange?” she asked quietly next. “That a plant created all of this?”

Peering into the clear pipe, rolling it between my fingers, I inspected the gently burning dried lore. Blue in color, it shimmered with an iridescent sheen. A foundation of our culture, our history, it had been used for centuries.

The strange and perhaps miraculous thing about lore was that it affected species differently. For the Kylorr, it was a relaxing way to unwind, a way to take the edge off a rage—or to prevent one from happening entirely. For humans, it was an aphrodisiac, a powerful sexual stimulant. For the Jetutians and Bvaro, it was a hallucinogenic. For the Horrin and the Killup and a handful of other species, it was a powerful medicine. One that had cured strange diseases and saved hundreds of thousands of lives throughout the Quadrants.

No matter what the effect, lore was in high demand. Clamored over for its wide array of uses. Something so simple to the Kylorr was something greater to everyone else.

Species had tried to grow lore on their planets or tried to reproduce it within a lab. They’d all failed. Lore could only grow here, on Krynn. It grew best, however, in the Kaalium. Farther up north, in Kaazor, the yields were small though possible. Across the seas, they used different species of it which grew better in their soil. But it was the Kaalium’s lore that the entire universe desired.

Lore had built the Kaalium.

Lore had built our family’s legacy and our rule.

And the Kaazor wish to take it from us, I couldn’t help but think. My mind always seemed to stray to the north these days.

“I’ll return to the border tomorrow,” I informed Kalia. “I’ll only be gone a couple days.”

“Can I come?” she asked hopefully, though she already knew my answer.

“No.”

A weary sigh drifted from her lips.

“The harvest festival and ball is coming up,” I reminded her. “Aren’t you on the planning committee with your friends from the village?”

“Do you know how condescending you sound when you say that?” she huffed.

I blinked, bewildered. “You like the harvest ball.”

“I do! But…” She trailed off. “I’m not a child anymore, Azur. I have just as much right to defend our House as you do!”

“And the Kaazor have made threats against our House, Kalia,” I growled. “For decades. Even against you. Don’t forget that.”

She pressed her lips together.

“You’re safer in Laras,” I grumbled, all ease from the lore gone. “Make no mistake, I will do whatever I can to keep you safe, even if you think I’m being a condescending bastard while I do it.”

“I heard that the Hop’jin let their females be soldiers in their wars,” she argued.

“And the Hop’jin have the females to spare,” I argued. “We do not.”

“This argument again,” she mumbled.

“Yes. This argument again,” I growled, feeling a prick of annoyance. Why couldn’t she understand?

“Fine. I’ll be a good little female and do what I’m told. I’ll plan the harvest festival in the village and pass out steam cakes and bouquets to the children. I’ll host the ball at the keep and smile at the nobles as they pass through our halls. I’ll stay far away from any important matters that might actually affect my life. Wouldn’t want me dying to inconvenience you. Just another soul you’ll have to save for our family.”

She hadn’t meant to say that last part, but anger had loosened her tongue.

Kalia’s breath hitched and she went silent as I stiffened.

A weighty silence lapsed.

Finally she blurted, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“I know,” I said, cutting her off. “It’s all right, Kalia.”

Her fangs prodded at her bottom lip. “Azur…”

Females were treasured among the Kylorr. Protected above all things because they were so rare. And Kalia…

Kalia was our only sister. The only daughter of House Kaalium, born after its five sons. If anything ever happened to her…

Softly, I said, “I don’t want your fate to mirror Aina’s. I will die before that happens. And I would rather you hate me if it means keeping you safe. Please don’t ask me again. At least until the worst of this mess is over.”

She said nothing.

She only watched the plume of the lore’s silver smoke as it floated before us.

Chapter 11

Gemma

“The Kyzaire requests you at breakfast this morning,” Ludayn informed me, making my stomach cramp into knots, as she shamelessly rifled through my trunks. Then I heard a frown as she asked, “Is this all you brought with you? But where are your nice dresses?”

“These are my nice dresses,” I corrected her, feeling strangely defensive over my clothes. They might not have been as pretty as the ones Piper and Mira wore, but they were practical garments, well made, and durable for the constant travel to the blue salt mines. “And don’t you mean my husband requests me for breakfast?” I grumbled under my breath.

While my mood had improved since last night with a good night’s rest…I was still feeling a little surly. Admittedly.

Ludayn’s brow furrowed. Her wing gave a little flutter behind her, and she said, “No, he always takes his morning meal on the terrace. It will be served soon, so we must hurry.”

Served? I wondered, that sick feeling growing in my belly. Did he…did he feed from others too? Would I have to watch? Was this to be the next torment he had planned for me?

My spine straightened. Even if it was…I would endure it. I would endure anything he threw at me, just to spite him.

Ludayn helped me dress quietly and quickly. As she did, I couldn’t quite help but study her mouth—trying to spot her fangs and failing—and the way her right wing dragged on the ground. I tensed when her yellow eyes flickered up to mine as she inspected the front of the dress. She was dressed in sleek blue trousers and a simple white top, metal shimmering beads sewn into the neckline. Her clothes were well made and well pressed. Neat and orderly.

Her midnight-blue hair was braided down her back today. Female Kylorr were much, much smaller than the males. Ludayn and I were nearly equal in height, and there was a willowy grace to her movements, despite her noticeable limp. I wanted to ask what had happened but thought it might be considered rude.

Still…

“Can I ask you something?”

She cocked her head to the side as she tried to smooth a wrinkle from the blue silk and failed. This was one of my nicer dresses. One of my favorites because it was, perhaps, my prettiest one. A sheath of light sky-blue silk, though one meant for evening dinner parties with visiting lords and ladies, not morning meals with my—terrifying—Kylorr husband.

“Yes?”

“How often do you need to feed?”

The question was steady and careful, and I waited with bated breath. Ludayn’s yellow eyes pinned me in place.

“How often do you eat, Kylaira?” she asked.

“Every day,” I said quietly. “Multiple times a day.”

“For us, it is the same, though we can go longer stretches if necessary,” she replied, freezing my heart in my chest. Multiple times a day?

Aghast, I bit my lip, my gaze straying past her shoulder to look out the window. The view was beautiful in the morning light, I realized belatedly, and I couldn’t find it in me to enjoy it.

Changing the subject, I asked softly, “Is that a lake or a sea?”

Ludayn followed my gaze. “That is the Silver Sea. It stretches north, even beyond the border. We share it with the Kaazor.”

“The Kaazor?” I asked quietly. Was that a place? Or a people? I knew so little about the Kylorr—about their planet, Krynn—that it made me restless. Frustrated. I wanted to rectify it immediately, and I wondered if there was a library or if I would have access to the Quadrant’s databases.

Or would I simply be locked away, taken out for my husband’s feedings—like a bird in a gilded cage—as I feared he intended?

“Yes. We should leave. The Kyzaire does not like to wait.”

Unconsciously, my fingers trailed up the column of my neck as I followed behind Ludayn, who led me out of my bedroom, out of my rooms, and into the hallway.

I could still feel the indentation of his fangs, the bruising ache when I pressed there. Was I to be covered in bite marks for the rest of my natural life, feeling the sting of breaking flesh and the memory of his scent and the maddening throb between my thighs with every one of his pulling, deep draws?

We passed keepers as we ventured to the lower floors, but I hardly saw them, though they paused in their tasks to make way, inclining their heads in small nods of recognition. Ludayn traced the familiar path back down to the entrance and out onto the back terrace. It was a bright, pleasantly warm day. This time of year, the Collis was beginning to cool, making way for the winter season. But on Krynn, it felt like summer. Warm and balmy.

Instead of cutting down to the courtyard—where we’d emerged from the transport tunnel yesterday—she guided me alongside the back of the house, going up another set of short stairs to our right and journeying down an open-air hallway, framed by rounded arches, which revealed a stunning view of the Silver Sea to our left, glittering in the sunlight.

I’d never thought a place could be more beautiful than the Collis. Than home.

Then again, I’d never thought to be the bride of a Kylorr and living on Krynn of all places, I added silently to myself.

The covered path led to a large, half-circle terrace that had a wonderful, unobstructed view of the sea. The same indigo blooms and curving, black vines from the courtyard spilled over the white stone banisters. They desperately needed a trimming, to cut back the dead, rotting weight piling on the ground, but it was still a lush and beautiful sight.

And it was there that Azur sat.

At a small table, seated in a chair that had cutouts for his relaxed wings. There were four seats in total, all surrounding the white stone table, its rounded edges smoothed from age and use, just like the rest of this place.

Azur’s eyes flitted to me, tearing his gaze away from the Halo tablet, which he had a lazy grip on. His other hand lifted and he beckoned Ludayn forward when she paused on the steps leading up to the small, private terrace, dipping her head in a small bow.

My heart sped, but I squared my shoulders as I approached. Strangely, I felt placid seeing him this morning, considering last night. Considering the feeding, the confusing and alarming sensations that it had brought to the surface, the snap of my temper and fear in the aftermath, and the mortifying knowledge that he’d seen me break down…I felt resigned.

Azur’s gaze was pinned on me, tracking me as I took a seat opposite him, the farthest seat I could take from him. He looked deceptively relaxed, leaning back in his chair…and was that tea? His hand curled around a small, black, glossy cup, and he watched me over its rim as he lifted it to his lips.

Ludayn seemed to melt away, leaving without a word. Until it was just the two of us on this bright, sunny morning, on this beautiful terrace that was spilling with blooms and greenery.

And I could enjoy none of it.

Sitting tall, holding myself tightly, I squeezed my fingers in my lap, eyeing the Kylorr across from me. We stared. And the longer we stared, the more I remembered the heat of his body pressed against me, the unyielding thickness of his cock at my back, and the wet, slick sounds as he’d drunk from me.

The rough tumble of his surprised groan against my flesh.

My cheeks reddened and I squeezed my fist tight. So tight that I purposefully dug my fingernails into my palm, hoping the sting would help focus my thoughts.

“Why am I here?” I finally asked, shaken from the silence.

Azur’s brow lowered. His horns looked especially sharp this morning. I saw his gaze dip to the bite mark on my neck.

Without thinking, I’d pulled my hair back into its usual bun before Ludayn had entered my rooms this morning. Which meant, with the dress she’d chosen—a dress I hadn’t had the energy to protest—it left my neck on full display. The warm breeze drifted over my exposed collarbones and stroked down the valley of my breasts, given the dramatic cut of the neckline.

Alarm went through me when I saw his catlike pupils dilate. I swallowed, highly aware that he studied every movement as my throat bobbed.

Then his gaze returned to his Halo tablet, his claws curling around it tighter. He had a privacy filter on his tablet, so I couldn’t see what held his attention or what he was working on.

“You need to eat, don’t you?” he asked, the dark drawl of his voice making my breath hitch.

He was in an unreadable mood. Cold and detached, and yet…he wasn’t being cutting or cruel. Not like last night.

“You think I will starve you into submission?” he asked, a dangerous glint in his voice when he peered up at me again.

Or maybe not. He was still testy.

At his words, I finally took note of what was before us. Eating utensils and silver-edged dishes. Set for a meal. For both of us.

And there was indeed a teapot, set on a warmer, in the very center of the table. Faceted and black like obsidian, I saw my reflection in it.

The appearance of Zaale saved me from answering. A hovering tray trailed behind him, laden with platters of food.

“Kylaira,” Zaale greeted, inclining his head in a nod, his voice measured. “I trust you slept well.”

The words were so normal and polite that they momentarily knotted my tongue. Ludayn had called me Kylaira too. I assumed it was a title.

“I did, thank you,” I replied, briefly meeting Azur’s eyes, seeing them tighten on Zaale. “Good morning,” I added.

“Where’s Inasa?” Azur cut in. “You shouldn’t be serving us.”

Zaale placed the platters down gently. Beautiful dishes, bright in color and variety. My mouth watered as I looked at the strange things perched almost artfully among the platters, decorated with small blooms and thick sauces. One platter was stacked high with rounded cakes, though the texture looked…gritty. The color was dark, nearly black, but bright blue oval-shaped flowers decorated the rim of the serving platter.

“Kalia intercepted him,” Zaale told Azur. “She dragged him into the village. Likely for help with the festival and the ball. She told me she was meeting with Yeeda.”

The…festival? The ball? Yeeda?

Kalia was the female we’d encountered yesterday, if I wasn’t mistaken. The beautiful one. Who’d cried mercury-colored tears and glared daggers at me.

I wondered if she was…

I wondered if she was another of Azur’s wives. I’d thought before that he might have multiple, that there hadn’t been a stipulation of monogamy in our marriage contract, not that I would have asked for one regardless. I knew nothing about the Kylorr’s customs, but it would certainly make Kalia’s anger and disgust yesterday justified.

Azur grunted. “Make sure she’s back in the keep by nightfall.”

“I will,” Zaale promised, reaching forward to take the teapot from the center of the table. He centered it over my own glossy cup and poured…only it wasn’t tea. It looked thick and dark, whatever it was. Like gray sludge. Then he took a small pot made of gleaming crystal and poured its contents over the sludge, a milky cream that pooled in the divots and cracks of the “tea.”

Seemingly pleased with the presentation, Zaale left us after straightening a spare platter.

“Eat,” Azur grunted, spearing two of the dark, gritty cakes from the stack and placing them on his plate.

My heart pounded in my chest as I watched him eat a large bite, half in disbelief.

“You…you eat food?”

His hand stilled, his single-pronged utensil—sharp and shining—poised on the path to his mouth.

“The Kylorr eat food?” I couldn’t help but stammer out in my shock. The relief I felt as I watched him chew!

“Of course we eat food,” he snapped, a glare gliding into place.

“But…” I trailed off, not quite knowing what to say. I licked my lips, processing this new information as swiftly as I could.

He put his silverware down. A knowing, mocking smile appeared. “Ah, you wish to know why we choose to drink blood if we can get our nourishment elsewhere,” he murmured.

“Well…yes.”

“You drink wine, do you not?” he wanted to know, tilting his head. Was it me or had his fangs elongated with the question? They were pressing into his bottom lip, longer than they’d been before. “Now imagine that the wine you drink gives you unfathomable energy and strength. Imagine that it tastes like the best meal you ever had. Imagine that it fuels you in a way that mere food cannot.”

Realization hit.

“Food is merely a supplement,” Azur told me. “But blood…” My stomach tightened. “Blood is life. No Kylorr would ever give it up.”

His words were tinged in warning, and he gave me a maddening dark smirk that straightened my spine like a rod of steel.

“And maybe I’ll wash down this morning’s meal with another drink of it.”

My jaw set. My chin lifted.

“You never answered my question,” I informed him. My superpower was working for me today. My voice sounded as cold and strong as a glacier.

A huff of amusement left his throat. His laugh even sounded cutting. “Remind me what it was, wife.”

“Why am I here?”

He resumed eating, throwing me an icy look. “I told you. Eat.”

I was starving for food, but I didn’t make a move toward any of it. My mother used to read me ancient faerie stories, ones that had traveled all the way from Old Earth—the original planet my race had once inhabited. And in those faerie stories, a human girl knew better than to eat faerie food. For once she did, she would be trapped forever, bound forever to that strange world.

Which is ridiculous, I couldn’t help but think.

I needed to eat. I would need to eat soon. I was already trapped here forever.

I didn’t know why that old story suddenly popped into my head, but it made my appetite nearly vanish.

“Why did you single out my House?” I demanded softly, keeping his eyes. “Why did you demand a daughter of House Hara?”

Azur studied me from across the table.

For such an arrogant, cruel monster, I hated that I found him handsome.

The warm wind that blew across the private terrace tangled a strand of thick, dark hair around one of his frightening, spiraled horns. He was dressed finely this morning, in a blue leather vest, molded to his chest with a series of intricate silver clasps. He wasn’t wearing his gauntlets, exposing strongly corded gray forearms and black nails that just formed the tip of what could be considered claws.

His shoulders were impossibly broad. It was only fitting that his wings needed to be just as expansive to carry such bulk and heavy muscle. I wasn’t under the false impression that he couldn’t snap me in two if he so wished.

Yet I didn’t cower from his cool and assessing gaze.

“Instead of questioning why, wife, perhaps you should be kneeling at my feet and bestowing your gratitude however you see fit, considering what I did for you and your family.”

That casual, flippant arrogance burned me up inside.

“You think I won’t?” I asked quietly.

He actually snorted, a sound of amusement just as it was one of derision. He took a casual sip of the sludge in his cup before replacing it with a bright clink on the table.

“You have too much pride for that, Gemma Hara,” he said.

His tone was matter-of-fact. It grated my insides. It cut me to think that he had gleaned anything about me at all. I didn’t want him to know me. I didn’t want him to think he did.

That was more important to me than my damn pride.

I rose from my chair.

Azur stilled, his hand poised between us, reaching for the platter of what looked like a type of fruit—the rind a dusky purple and the inside flesh a midnight blue with plump black seeds as big as marbles.

Holding his eyes, I rounded the table slowly, every step bringing me closer to his side. Resignation and triumph both warred inside me when I saw his brief surprise until he smoothed it away. His hand retracted, watching me, waiting.

Challenging me.

When I was at his side, I set my jaw as I slowly lowered to my knees. The terrace stones were warm through the blue silk of my dress, which tightened over my hips and thighs with the uncomfortable position.

“Is this what you want, husband?” I challenged, my voice low. Inside, I was struggling to keep my resentment bound in a tight, manageable ball. It took everything in me to show him my wrist, to reach up and present it to him. “Why don’t you just take what you really want? It’s what I’m here for, after all.”

His expression flickered.

It morphed from cool understanding to desire. Desire mixed with a sudden rage.

He wanted to drink from me again. He wanted it badly.

And that sudden realization was almost enough to make me want to snatch back my wrist and stumble away. It made me want to flee.

But I couldn’t. I had nowhere to go and I was trying to prove a point.

Only, as he shoved his chair back and slowly rose to his full height, casting me in shadow…I forgot what it was I was attempting to prove.

Fool, I thought, my mouth going dry, staring up at him as he towered over me.