She seemed to believe he could stop.
Or at least a hopeful, optimistic part of her did.
I believed differently.
“Have Setlan stop the deal,” I growled to Zaale. “Immediately. Make sure whoever it is on Vrano knows the Haras’ connection with House Kaalium.”
That would be enough to warn any collectors away.
“I’ll alert him now,” Zaale said, studying me with an expression I wasn’t used to. One he often used with Kalia, however, because while he loved her, he could never quite figure her out.
“Send word to Rye Hara too,” I rasped, my fists clenching on the surface of my desk. “Tell him that if he approaches another collector, it will be a breach of his agreement with us. And with his daughter.”
The only piece of the Collis estate that Rye Hara refused to give up was a lake. A disgusting, slime-ridden little lake in the back of the house. But any breach of contract would ensure that I would own that too. My words would be a warning. A reminder that there was still much, much more that I could take.
If I had insinuated that I’d also take out my aggressions and frustrations on his daughter should he anger me?
Well…I’d let him continue to think that.
Fear was a powerful motivator.
There was a buzzing starting up underneath my skin. I took in a deep breath after Zaale departed with a sharp nod. I clenched the edges of my desk, but the frustration wouldn’t leave and there was venom dripping on my tongue.
Now I was restless. Thinking of that useless sack of bones who had ruined himself and his family. Who had torn mine apart.
Raazos.
With a muted curse, I rose and went to the balcony. I opened the wide gate and launched myself into the air, flaring my wings wide, circling down to the terrace. My eyes were locked on Gemma. Another dress today, this one beige in color. Hideous. Again. Even so, each day, the punishing fantasy of slipping whatever ugly dress up around her waist and drinking from her cunt was becoming more and more distracting.
Kalia caught sight of me before my wife did. She narrowed her gaze on me, and I landed with a loud thump behind Gemma. Who gasped and turned, her hand pressed to her chest.
When she saw me, she stilled. Her tongue darted out to swipe at her plump lips, tightening my belly with need. Did she realize that her neck had begun to flush red whenever she saw me? Blood rushing. Preparing. Like her body knew who it belonged to and it was doing whatever it could to please its master.
“Leave us,” I growled at Kalia.
My sister didn’t like that. Even still, she grumbled and rose to her feet. “Just because you’re the Kyzaire, doesn’t mean you can order me around, brother.”
“Kalia,” I bit out, though my eyes had never left Gemma’s. The need for my kyrana’s blood was like an addiction. I needed my next fix. And I needed it now. Yesterday had been the first time I’d drunk from her twice in one day. Today would likely be the same. It was only afternoon.
It would only get worse.
Kalia rolled her eyes. Another human reaction she’d probably picked up in the village, likely from Neela…or even from Gemma.
“You’re even worse than Kythel,” she grumbled, stomping off before she eventually took to the sky, flying around the front of the keep, out of sight.
“Who’s Kythel?” Gemma asked, her voice soft and measured.
She was a mess.
Her hair was wild, trying to escape her ever-present bun, sticking to the dampness of her forehead and the back of her neck. It was much too warm for her to be wearing that long-sleeved monstrosity, even if I liked the wide neckline, showing off my plethora of bites from the last few days.
I jerked my chin up, gesturing for her to rise from her knees. Her hands were filthy and she had scrapes across the backs of her fingers from the starwood vines.
“Now?” she asked, nibbling on her bottom lip. She looked back to the section of the banister she and my sister had been working on tearing out. “But we’re almost done, and—”
“Gemma,” I growled.
She huffed, making my lips twitch, though I hid it with a scowl.
“Very well. You’re awfully bossy, you know that?” she asked, her tone positively prim, as she rose, wiping her hands on a nearby cloth before throwing it to the ground. “Who’s Kythel?”
Won’t let that go, I thought.
“My brother,” I grunted.
My twin, was what I left unspoken.
Fire and ice, our mother used to called us. Me? I could burn anyone with my scorn. Kythel? He’d speared them straight through the heart with the ice in his gaze.
Sometimes, we could be either. Or we could be both.
“One of your many brothers,” Gemma murmured, eyeing me as I approached. “Which territory does he oversee?”
Was she trying to distract me?
I wouldn’t allow it.
“Erzos,” I rumbled, twining my arms around her.
“Oh. You—you want to feed here?” she asked, her gaze flitting behind me. Nervous.
I felt my lips curl. Leaning down, I bit at her neck but didn’t break the flesh with my fangs. Only gentle nips meant to warn.
“Why not here? Afraid all the keep will hear your moans as you come?” I questioned, my voice deepening and roughening with every word.
Fuck, I wanted that. Hearing her come…it no longer filled me with a sense of restless shame. Knowing I was giving pleasure to the daughter of an enemy. Instead, it made me feel victorious. Like I’d slaughtered my way across a battlefield and come out the other side.
Her breath whistled through her nostrils. “All the windows face this way, and the keepers will see—”
My arms tightened around her waist and then I leapt up, whipping my wings down to propel us forward.
Her muted scream was muffled in my vest. I’d been training earlier this morning, and as such, her hands scrambled over my gauntlets, trying to grip the smooth metal.
Was she worried I’d let her fall?
That I would fly her up miles above the keep and just…let go?
I would do it to her father, I realized. In a heartbeat.
Then her scream stopped. I hadn’t meant to fly us far. Just to the private alcove of the courtyard below, away from the prying eyes of the keep, where we wouldn’t be disturbed for a handful of moments.
Yet I found myself journeying over the Silver Sea until we were skimming just above the water, clear and calm that afternoon. Perfect.
Gemma had had her legs wrapped around mine in her initial panic, but when she realized that I had a strong grip on her—holding her waist and back in the vice of my arms—I saw her tilt her head back hesitantly.
I picked up speed, wondering what she would do as the wind whipped around us. I tilted our angle so that we were parallel to the water and so that her back was to it. Like I could lay her down among the reflections and small waves, a bed of our own making.
In the wind, whatever tie that had gripped her hair in that damn bun came loose, disappearing into the sea below. Her hair tumbled down, a black waterfall of tangled silk, and she gasped when the ends skimmed across the surface of the sea, her eyes flying to mine. A bloom of her scent reached me now that her hair was no longer bound. She smelled like the soap the keepers purchased from the village. Made from the leaves in the northern forests, clean and fresh, and it mingled with her own tantalizing scent that had venom dripping from my fangs.