Because I know how enjoyable it will be to make her submit, I thought.
“Take it off,” I growled.
“What?” Gemma whispered, her soil-colored brown eyes going wide.
I trailed the tip of my claw along the hem of the neckline, where it bunched under her chin.
“How do you expect me to feed with this covering you up?” I asked. “Take it off.”
She presented her wrist instead, but I gave her a dark smile, flashing my fangs.
“I think we agreed on submission, did we not, wife?” I pondered. “Is this what you call submission? Going against my direct orders and then denying me what I wish?”
She was a curious thing. Just last night, after she’d rocked against me, on the verge of a second orgasm, she’d actually cried out in protest when I’d pulled away. Perhaps she was starved for pleasure.
Gemma swallowed. “There are fastenings in the back, and I—”
My claws sliced through them before she could finish her sentence.
“Take it off,” I growled at her, the order unmistakable in my voice. I heard her shaky gasp. Afraid now? Good.
The dress was ruined, sagging down around her neck. I wasn’t sorry. It was hideous, and there were plenty of qualified clothiers in Laras who would be eager to make her a new one.
Her cheeks were red now, and she didn’t quite meet my eyes as she pulled the material away from her neck, baring it to me.
She stopped there, however, clutching the material to her chest, though in the reflection of the darkened window behind her, I could see the smooth expanse of her naked back.
How far would I push her?
She had disobeyed me, after all. She needed to be punished. She needed to learn not to challenge me, even if her defiance made my cock hard.
“Lower,” I ordered.
Her breath hitched. Primal satisfaction heated my belly when I saw my bite marks in her neck. Like an imprint of my fingertips, my mark on her was unmistakable.
She shifted the material down—so much fucking material—baring the valley of her breasts, smooth and unblemished. More venom flooded across my tongue, thinking of biting her there too.
Maybe I would.
She needed to learn this lesson.
“Lower, wife,” I ordered again.
She wanted a distraction? I would give her one.
Wrapping a hand around her hip, I dragged her forward. Her breaths were heaving, but she finally let her dress slip. I swallowed my groan, my gaze briefly catching on the tipped peaks of her brown nipples before I lowered my head.
Before I sunk my fangs deep, I nipped at the fleshy mound of her breast, holding it tight in warning. Gemma froze. Her nipples went so tight and puckered that I thought it must feel painful.
Good.
Need was riding me hard, and I didn’t wait any longer.
With a rough huff, I sank my incisors into her, feeling her body jerk beneath my grip as my venom flooded into the wound. I had hungered for her blood since last night. Though I’d had the best damn sleep of my life, I’d woken craving her scent and the heady, almost spicy taste of her blood. I’d been called into the village that morning, forgoing the morning meal, and had made my rounds in Laras, fangs elongated, venom dripping for her taste. If the villagers had noticed, they hadn’t said anything about the tightness of my clothes or the fact that I’d been clearly on the verge of a rage. Instead, they’d steered clear.
Though…I actually felt in control of a rage. I felt like I could trigger it at will if necessary, which had never happened in my lifetime. That was powerful in itself.
Blood-mated Kylorr were always easy to recognize, and I’d caught more than a few envious stares from males and females alike as I’d journeyed through Laras.
Gemma couldn’t hold her moan, just as I’d known she wouldn’t be able to. For one so tightly wound, for one who held her emotions incredibly close, she was a loud and expressive little female when it came to this. To pleasure.
And truthfully, right at this moment, that knowledge made my cock thicken more than the taste of her blood, more than the actual act of feeding, of consuming.
I closed my eyes, my cheek pressed against the valley of her heavy breasts, as I feasted. As I pulled and sucked and licked. I wrapped my hand in the neat knot of her hair, tugging her head back, while keeping her steady on her feet, ensuring that my horns didn’t accidentally gouge her face. My jaw scraped her nipple. She shuddered, a violent trembling of her body, when my tongue flicked out to catch an escaping drop of blood. I wanted everything. I would allow nothing to go to waste.
Her hands were biting into my forearms. My body took on a mind of its own, grinding my cock into her fucking thigh, as hunched over as I was. I hissed when a drop of pre-come pushed from my tip and wet the front of my pants.
Vaan, I couldn’t help but silently curse. I’ll never be able to feed from anyone else again.
And that…was a frightening, grim realization.
In response, I drew her blood even deeper, the sounds wet, even obscene. I was usually neat when I fed. With Gemma? I was worried I wouldn’t be able to get enough, worried she’d pull away before I sated myself.
Her breathing changed. Her rough pants were coming out in tiny gasps. She was close, on the edge of climax. I could bring her there. I could push her over that edge and make her fall.
But this wasn’t about her pleasure.
Though it was one of the hardest things I’d had to do, I released her with a gruff growl of frustration.
In shock, her eyes found mine, her expression twisted in need. The front of her dress was slumped, baring her breasts…which I found surprisingly erotic. Especially with the mark of my bite adorning one. They were a perfect size to cup fully in my hands. Her nipples were tight, high, and brown, though the flesh around them was flushed pink.
When I shifted, she gasped and scrambled to cover herself, clutching the front of her dress to her chest. I felt the back of my vest give, a little tear forming near the seam where my muscles were growing, shifting.
“Don’t disobey me,” I rasped, enjoying the way her eyes narrowed on me, “and I might let you come next time, wife.”
Outrage sparked in those eyes, lighting them up in a fascinating way.
There was a sudden bang at the door, and my head whipped behind me, fangs bared, a purely primal instinct. Someone was close. Close to my blood mate, so soon after I’d fed from her.
I nearly ripped the door off its hinges, a growl building in my chest.
Kalia’s dark glare met mine in the darkness.
All the fight left me.
“Kalia,” I hissed. “What in Raazos’s blood are you doing?”
“I can ask you the same thing,” she snapped back. Her eyes tracked to Gemma, who stood, wide eyed, in the center of the records room, half-undressed. My wife’s cheeks were flushing, though instead of in pleasure, this seemed to be in mortification. Kalia looked disgusted when she glared at me and said, “You promised me that…that you…”
My sister’s words trailed off.
Because she’d finally looked at me.
“No,” she breathed. She froze, her own eyes bulging. “Are you…are you—”
Kalia didn’t even finish her words. She spun on her heel, giving her wings a pump to propel her quickly down the hallway.
“Kalia,” I growled. “Fuck.”