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.
Chapter 16
Gemma
In the end, Azur wasn’t even at breakfast.
Regardless, I’d worn my only high-necked dress, one that nearly went to my ears, in defiance. I’d already picked it out the night before, smoothing the wrinkles out over the chair. This morning, I’d been dressed before Ludayn had even knocked, mentally prepared for another sparring round with my maddening husband.
But he hadn’t showed. I’d eaten in peace, gazing out from the private terrace, admiring the ridges and dips of the northern mountains as I’d nibbled on a sweet bread spread liberally with a shimmering blue jam. A slab of delicious cheese—mottled with black streaks and encased in a tough red rind—had accompanied the small meal, weighing me down and sticking to my ribs as I’d planned out my day. The tea sludge had gone untouched, however.
Truthfully, I was itching to return to Maazin’s offices, to sort through the records. To get them organized, perhaps even uploaded to a secure Halo system for easy accounting.
To anyone else, record keeping might’ve been frustrating and dull work. But I quite enjoyed it. At least, I enjoyed it when my family’s own well-being and safety wasn’t at the stake of those numbers.
And that was exactly how I spent my morning and afternoon.
Azur had given me freedom around the keep—though I didn’t disclose what I was doing within the walls. I only needed his permission to leave the grounds.
If Maazin was surprised to see me, he didn’t show it. He’d only directed me to a stack of papers he had set aside, his brows furrowed in concentration—a little bead of sweat dotting his brow—as he made manual calculations over a scrap piece of parchment.
We worked mostly in silence. It was almost peaceful.
“Why don’t you upload all the records to a Halo database?” I asked him, just as the sun began to sink in the sky, stretching my back. “You would have the calculations almost instantly, and if you programmed the system to account for new harvest yields, it would take no time at all to get these reports done.”
Maazin swallowed, shifting back in his modified chair. Most had a slim, vertical back so there was enough room for a Kylorr’s wings. He rolled his neck. I heard a pop.
“This is how it has always been done,” Maazin said, his voice low. “To House Kaalium, tradition is important.”
“So is progress,” I argued, though it was under my breath and my tone was a little distracted as my eyes caught on a string of numbers. “How long have you worked for the family?”
“A few years now,” he said.