Текст книги "Desire in His Blood"

Автор книги: Zoey Draven

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Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 24 страниц)

Chapter 14

Gemma

Every single flicker of starlight made my heart stutter as I waited.

Though I’d been half tempted to return to Maazin’s office to continue sorting through the disorganized mess of papers and records, I had decided to venture to my rooms after dinner. I’d taken the meal in an empty dining room, though a Kylorr male named Inasa had lingered nearby, just in case I’d requested anything further. He’d poured my wine—thick and sweet and tasting vaguely of the apples that had grown in the Collis—and I’d had more than I probably should’ve, considering the pleasant buzz in my head and the way my limbs felt loose.

Maybe it’s for the best, I thought, laughing softly to myself. Maybe I was more like my father than I thought.

A little after midnight, as the fire popped in the hearth, a loud thump came from outside my balcony window in my room, making me stand.

The doors burst inward, nearly shattering the lock, making me gasp in alarm.

Then suddenly…Azur was there.

And when those red, molten orbs found mine? They were feral. Angry.

My first instinct was to run.

At first, I actually did.

There was a ferocity, a wildness in his usual expressionless, cold face that made me want to flee like prey. I made to run for the door that led out into the hallway, my heart sparking to life, throbbing with every dizzying pump of my blood.

It didn’t make sense, this reaction. I’d expected his bite. I’d known he would come for me tonight. His threat had been tinged in promise when he’d left the keep yesterday morning.

When my hand found the brassy, solid, globular handle, I had just twisted it, had just managed to crack it open when his body crashed into mine.

I let out a wild, desperate little cry as he flipped me, caging me in with his body as he pressed me back into the door. His wings shielded us. Trapped. I was trapped with nowhere to run.

“I hate this,” Azur hissed down at me. His voice was thick and guttural. Changed. “You think I want this, kyrana?”

My brows furrowed in confusion even as I struggled against him, bucking to try to get away.

He groaned, pressing his hips low, and I stilled when I felt the thickness of his cock, the shadowy outline of it pressed—I assumed painfully—against the vertical metal clasps of his pants.

“You think I want to crave your blood like this?” he growled. “I’ve thought of nothing else!”

He pounded the door behind me to emphasize his point, to release his frustration in a physical way, and I felt the impact vibrate down my spine. Disbelief went through me, meeting his eyes, the wine and his words making the room sway.

His grip wasn’t gentle. His hand moved to my hair, and he gathered it in one fist, tugging it back, making my scalp pull.

A whimper escaped me as he exposed my bare neck. I should’ve been pushing him away, right? I should’ve been fighting him with everything I had in me, like a wild hellcat trying to get away from this beast!

Instead, there was an immediate, alarming switch that seemed to trigger inside me at his dominating touch. There was fear, yes…but there was also a sharp pinch of need that mingled with it, binding close to it like a braided thread. I would be lying to myself if I said I hadn’t thought of his bite in his absence. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought of the way it made me feel, how every dragging pull felt like a suckle on my clit, and how my body responded to such a physical, vulnerable act.

When he tugged my hair harder, baring more of my flesh for his gaze…a sound escaped me that sounded like a breathy moan.

Azur stilled, those eyes snapping tight and narrowing on me. I felt his fist tighten, and maybe it was the wine flowing hot in my blood or his delicious scent but I found myself relaxing in his grip. Submitting.

A soft chuff emerged from his throat. His head lowered. He dragged the tip of his nose along the column of my neck, breathing me in. The smooth slide of his fangs followed, but he didn’t break the skin. He only taunted and teased me with them. I found myself holding my breath, anticipating the sharp prick that would melt into sublime pleasure.

“Who would’ve thought?” came his dark growl, the velvety, rich rasp of it winding down my belly, tightening my nipples. What was happening? “Who would have thought that you would crave this too? What would your father think, Gemma Hara? Knowing his eldest daughter is a greedy little slut for a Kylorr’s bite?”

I flinched at the crude words—even as a rush of heat pooled low in my belly—but Azur’s fist tightened in my hair, keeping me steady. The world swam. There was shame, but it was drenched in desperation.

He didn’t give me a chance to reply, not that I could’ve with my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth.

The sharp pinch of his fangs registered. I felt a flood of startling heat where he bit my neck.

Then…I was floating.

Azur’s groan reverberated in the protected cluster his wings made around us. My back arched off the door, my eyes sliding shut as I tilted my neck even more, making space for him. Maybe I would hate myself in the morning. Maybe the self-loathing would take root the moment the sun rose. Or perhaps even the moment he was done feeding.

But right then…if pleasure was what I received from this transaction—because that was what it was—then I would take it. I’d been restless all day. I didn’t care what he thought of me. A part of me needed this.

If there was a shred of something besides fear and hatred on Krynn, I was going to grab on to it with both hands.

I almost laughed in my delirium. He’d called me the slut when by his own admission, he craved my blood to the point that it infuriated him?

“What does that make you, then, Azur of House Kaalium, son of Thraan, and the High Lord of Laras?” I asked, my voice throaty. He didn’t even pause in his feeding, but I felt a rough exhale through his nostrils over my skin. “What does that make you, knowing you can’t get enough of my blood? Do you hate that too? Does it make you hate me more?”

Azur pressed into me harder, sliding his hard thigh between my legs, sparking a new kind of pressure and pleasure, though I wondered if he’d meant it as punishment. Or a warning.

His feeding turned into something new. Something darker. Something ravenous. He sucked harder. He drank more deeply, like he was determined to drain me dry.

I moaned, little gasping breaths flying from my throat, my eyes widening in disbelief. I felt one small flutter between my thighs.

Oh gods!

I struggled against him, knowing what would happen. Knowing what he was steadily driving me toward. But he didn’t let me go anywhere. If anything, he held me tighter. An unyielding wall whose stubbornness matched my own.

And when that pleasure burst?

“No, no, no,” I moaned, ragged, clawing at the tops of his shoulders, trying to keep my legs from giving out beneath me.

Crying out, I couldn’t help it as my hips rocked of their accord, as an orgasm ripped through my body, tearing me up from the inside out. Powerful and deep. Wanted and hated. Sublime and mind-numbing.

Azur laughed, but it was muffled against my neck, where his fangs were still imbedded deep.

His dark chuckle sparked my blood with fury because he knew. He knew what had just happened.

Can he feel it? I couldn’t help but wonder, dazed. Can he taste it?

He pressed his hips harder into my belly, grinding against me. Letting me feel the drag of his swollen, hard cock.

He’s affected by this too, I thought, feeling my lids go heavy.

That was when I felt it.

The unmistakable sensation of another orgasm building, right on the heels of the first. My legs tightened. The gentle pulsing deep inside my sex was turning into a steady, maddening need. My clit was fluttering and sensitive, but I dug my fingers into Azur’s shoulders, raking them down his thick leather vest. It was still cold from the wind outside.

His laugh abruptly died.

“Raazos,” came the soft word. Like a whispered curse. He was steadily rocking against me now, the grinding of his hips almost violent, rough. He groaned, muffled against my neck, “Fuck.”

Almost there, I chanted in my head, my head lolling against my shoulders as his grip on my hair loosened. So close!

And then…just as I was about to tumble over the edge, Azur pulled his fangs from me in a dizzying rush and retreated so fast that my head spun.

“No!” I couldn’t help but cry out, nearly on the verge of tears in frustration, already feeling the pleasure he’d built begin to slip away.

And then in the silence that followed…reality slowly crept back in. In sluggish, hazy moments until I felt my cheeks begin to burn.

Not again, I thought.

Azur had flung himself a few paces away, clutching the back of the chair that was perched close to the roaring fire. His grip was so tight that I thought his claws would tear through the material. His shoulders were heaving.

I hadn’t imagined it the first time, I realized, staring at him in shock as I clung to the handle of the door, using it to keep me upright. I’d have a bruise on my back in the morning from where it’d dug into me.

Azur was definitely bigger. Though he hadn’t grown taller, he was larger. Everywhere. His vest was nearly ripping open at the seams. And his pants might have been made of latex for all the detail they showed, including the veins on the underside of his cock and a strange, thick swelling at the very base of his shaft.

Suddenly, I felt overheated. The material of my night dress felt heavy and thick, though it was anything but. The bite mark on my neck throbbed. Between my legs, I felt slick and wet, evidence of my arousal and of my unexpected orgasm.

I waited for the self-loathing to come.

I waited for the disgust to rear its ugly head.

Only it never did.

As I straightened, the movement dragged Azur’s glowing eyes to mine. He was hunched over slightly, like he was catching his breath, using the back of the chair to support him. We regarded one another in the silence.

Even the fire popped with the tension filling the sitting room.

I waited for him to mock me.

I waited for him to sneer at how I’d come against him, moaning as he’d drunk from me.

Only he never did.

Instead, he said nothing at all as he straightened to his full height, his wings folding neatly behind his back.

“I won’t be shamed,” I warned him, the husky words breaking free from my throat. “Not by you. Not by anyone. I’ve dealt with it enough in my life that I refuse to feel it with you too.”

It was difficult to look arrogant and downright regal with a raging erection in supremely tight pants…and yet Azur somehow pulled it off. His eyes even narrowed on me, his lips pulling down into a familiar scowl.

Maybe if he knew that I received pleasure from the feedings, he would back off. He seemed to want to hurt me. He didn’t want to please me.

“For Alaire’s mercy, tell me, wife, exactly what shame do you think you’ve had to endure in your lifetime?” he growled. “The shame of your father’s greed? The shame of hiding your family’s ruin from the nobles in the Collis, fretting over the loss of your jewels and your estate and your precious keepers?”

My cheeks went even hotter. “You know nothing about me.”

His laugh was biting as he approached. “I’ve heard about the Hara daughters. I’ve heard you’re all spoiled rotten. Little grasping vines climbing up to stations high above them, spending credits that they don’t have on frivolous things that mean nothing, while their father begs for money from whoever is foolish enough to give him some. But let me tell you one thing, Gemma Hara. Desperation has a particular stench to it. It will warn everyone away. I could smell it before I ever laid eyes on you.”

A shocked breath escaped me.

The image he’d conjured…that wasn’t me. That wasn’t Mira. And for all her faults, if Piper had known about the debts, she wouldn’t have been so careless with our money. She would’ve been the first one to step up to try to fix our situation.

And that was on me. That was on Father, desperate to keep the truth from both of them.

“It didn’t seem to warn you away, husband.”

Chapter 15

Azur

Raazos’s blood, had a female ever made me so fucking infuriated before? I felt like I was on the verge of a rage, but I couldn’t tell if it was from the high off her blood or because she made mine boil.

Maybe both.

Likely both.

“You’ve heard wrong,” she added, glaring, even when her cheeks were still flushed from her orgasm.

I had half a mind to push her back against the door and feed a second time. I would laugh as she moaned her pleasure because at least an orgasm would tie that tongue into knots and she would stop lying to me for a damn moment.

“Do you always have to have the last word, wife?” I bit out.

“Do you?” she snapped back.

When I left this room, I was going straight into mine to rip off my pants that felt three sizes too small. Then I would furiously fuck my fist so that I could think straight.

I had never expected for the blood madness to be this distracting. To be this frustrating.

This is a problem, I couldn’t help but think.

When I’d taken a Hara daughter for my own, I hadn’t expected to want to fuck her.

Instead, I had wanted her fear. I had wanted her submission. I had wanted her coward of a father to know that I would enjoy tormenting her. That I would find pleasure in it.

Because blood was blood.

If he refused to pay for his injustices, then I would make his eldest daughter pay instead before I destroyed his entire House in the eyes of the universe. For seventeen years, my family had been left in the dark. My mother’s heart had been broken when she’d passed into the next realm. Only until recently had we known the truth about what had happened to Aina on Pe’ji.

Who could have foreseen that Gemma Hara would be my kyrana?

It was a sick joke. Another injustice against House Kaalium.

But I wondered if it was a lesson from our gods and goddesses. I wondered if this was meant to humble me. An obstacle that needed to be overcome…or a warning that this was not the way to redeeming Aina’s lost soul.

With a dawning grim realization, I realized that this punishing desire—hot and needful and frustrating—meant one thing.

Eventually, I would fuck my wife.

Either during one of my rages, fueled by her own blood, when my restraint and control was at its weakest. Or I would fuck her to make a point. To show her that she could give me that sharp tongue but that I could still make her scream for me. That I could control her, that I could make her weak and needy, that I could make her submit.

Resignation—mingled with the alarming sensation of anticipation—thrummed through me.

Gemma was still glaring at me in her thin dress. Kylorr females rarely wore such garments. Flying in dresses, I assumed, would be considered an inconvenient annoyance, as Kalia had often grumbled to me.

But on Gemma…I found the sight of her pointed nipples through the soft material arousing. And there was a certain illicit thrill in my belly, knowing that I could push up the hem and she’d be bared to me, ready for a rough, punishing fuck.

The taste of her blood was still on my tongue, and already, I was hungry for more. I wondered how much more of my venom she could take. So much that a simple brush of my claws against her skin could trigger an orgasm?

I took a step toward her.

I heard her harsh swallow, saw the way her gaze flitted over my body, gauging the new swelling of my strength.

I nearly grinned.

“Do I make you nervous?” I asked her, continuing to approach. There was something infinitely appealing about hate-fucking her. Perhaps because for the Kylorr, going through a rage and having sex were—more often than not—intertwined. It was what our ancestors had done. Gone out battling and come back to their wives and lovers and kyranas to unleash the pent-up aggression and savor their victory. Sex had been a celebration.

And with Gemma?

That was what it would be.

A celebration of her submission.

Venom dripped from my fangs at the thought.

I heard the door knob rattle behind her when her back met it again.

“We can come to an understanding, Azur,” she murmured quietly, her voice oddly calm. “An agreement.”

Intrigued, I cocked my head, stepping into her space. Her breath hitched when I brushed the pads of my fingers over her bite mark, staring at the small wound. A human gentleman, if he had the power to, would heal the skin for her. All it would take was a little of my own blood, mixed with my venom, and the wound would be gone within moments.

But I didn’t. I wanted her to feel me. I wanted her to remember me, all of her waking moments.

“An agreement,” I repeated. On her next inhale, the swells of her small breasts brushed my chest. “Are you bargaining with me, little wife?”

“Yes,” she said quietly, her eyes darting between my own. My left wing twitched briefly. “You want to feed from me. And you know you can. Whenever you want. But I won’t fight you. Not unless…”

She blinked, lifting her chin slightly.

“Not unless you want me to,” she finished. “If you want me to be afraid, then I’ll be afraid.”

She thought I got off on her fear.

She wouldn’t be wrong, came that treacherous little voice in the back of my mind. I had found pleasure in her fear.

“Sometimes a Kylorr wishes for blood feedings multiple times a day,” I couldn’t help but growl. Her scent swam in my nostrils, making more venom drip on my tongue.

Her voice was quiet and strong as she said, “And I would give you those feedings.”

“You would be on a supplement to replenish your blood quickly,” I rasped. “On baanye.”

“I’ll take it,” she answered.

I grunted. Reaching forward, I clasped her chin, tilting her face up. Her cheeks were still flushed. I could still smell the remnants of her arousal and the thick, maddening scent of her orgasm, slick between her thighs.

“I won’t ask for much,” she told me. “It may be what you were willing to give me anyway.”

“And that is?” I asked quietly, strangely fascinated by this little exchange between us.

It wasn’t often that a female challenged me. I was used to obedience. I was the Kyzaire of Laras. A High Lord, born as the eldest heir into a legacy. All of Krynn, even the nations beyond the seas, knew of House Kaalium. They knew of my bloodline—the dark, the bright, and the bloody history of it.

Most wouldn’t dare to go against my wishes. My orders.

But here was my human bride, daring to strike a deal, one she was powerless in. She knew it. But she dared to try anyway.

I couldn’t help but be impressed. She was brave, I’d give her that.

“You won’t keep me as a prisoner here,” she murmured, a small swallow punctuating her words. “I would be free to spend my days as I wish.”

A lengthy silence stretched between us as we stared at one another.

“I can take multiple feedings if I wish and when I wish to,” I informed her, wondering what she’d do with the words. “I don’t have to give you anything in return.”

Quietly and slowly, she said, “And during those feedings I can be afraid. Or if you don’t want me to be afraid…then I can be anything you want.”

My cock throbbed at her words, the knot at the base of my shaft swelling even further.

A ragged breath left me, unexpected and rough.

There was no mistaking the hidden meaning of her words. There was no mistaking the sudden rush of blood that traveled straight to my cock, making it difficult to think. And around her? I knew that was dangerous.

My hand left her chin, sliding up her cheek and into her hair. Cradling the back of her head, I stared down at her.

“If I wanted you afraid…”

“Then I would try to escape you,” she whispered.

“If I wanted you to fight me…”

“Then I would fight you.”

“If I wanted you to submit…”

A short inhale whistled through her nostrils. “Then I would kneel before you and bare whatever part of me you wished to feed from.”

An erotic fantasy rose, conjured by the words. Of her with her legs spread for me, her cheeks flushed, those heavy breasts bared. Of my fangs piercing the soft, sensitive flesh of her inner thigh, sinking deep.

This was new for me.

Feeding off a giver…it was a need. Like breathing. Like flying. Visiting a giver’s establishment was no different than visiting a local tavern in the village. A Kylorr went there to feed, to drink, and then they would pay and go. There was nothing sexual about it unless it was with a lover. And then there might be blood play and biting involved.

With a kyrana, however, everything about it became sexual. A primal need that spoke to the baser instincts of our berserker natures. Wild and untamed. The push and pull of submission and power, the crazed desire and the unfathomable hunger.

She was offering to play whatever role I wished for her to play. To satisfy those needs, though she couldn’t possibly understand what she was offering me.

I pretended to deliberate. I pretended to weigh her words even though my heart was suddenly beating furiously in my chest.

The longer I deliberated, the more she fidgeted. And so I waited even longer.

“I won’t go anywhere you absolutely forbid me to,” she murmured, suddenly nervous I’d deny her. “But outside the keep, I would like to explore the village. And go down to the sea.”

The obvious desire in her words created a vice of guilt and unease, tight and uncomfortable. I didn’t want to feel it. But I did. I didn’t want to soften toward her.

I’d dragged this out long enough.

“You may go into the village and down the coastal trail but only with a guard,” I told her. “You will not leave the keep’s grounds without my permission, do you understand?”

There was still a burning little flare of frustration in those eyes. This was a female who wasn’t used to being told what to do. Already, I knew she would fight me on this. I knew she would challenge me at every step, and I wondered if I’d made a terrible mistake.

Regardless, I’d never intended to keep her locked up. But I had hoped to keep her from the village. From the eyes of Laras, so questions weren’t raised when I eventually returned her to the Collis.

It’s inevitable, I knew. With the festival and harvest season approaching, she would be discussed liberally, our sudden marriage speculated on endlessly.

“And…and when would you like your next feeding?” she asked.

My eyes narrowed. I felt restless. I felt, strangely, like I’d been defeated, whilst also feeling the thrum of victory at her small surrender. A thoroughly odd mixture of emotions.

“Whenever it pleases me,” I growled, reaching for the handle of the door behind her. “I don’t have to give you a schedule.”

Was it my imagination, or did she huff?

She stumbled away from the door so I could leave. My skin felt tight. My wings were twitching. My cock was still as hard as stone.

I turned around just before she could shut the door in my face.

Dropping low, I murmured harshly, “And at the morning meal tomorrow, I want your neck on display. I want everyone to see my bite on you and all the others that will join it.”

Gemma’s breath hitched. I felt the beginnings of my seed push from the tip of my cock, my thick seal pulsing at the base of my shaft.

This is a problem, I couldn’t help but think again, gritting my jaw as I turned, leaving her slack-jawed and flushing.

This dangerous, dangerous game could ruin everything.