Chapter 10: I Won’t Force You

He had touched her insides—intimately, deliberately—and knew with chilling certainty that no one else had.

That knowledge stirred something dark and primal within him, igniting a carnal heat in his loins that he hadn’t felt in ages.

His eyes darkened, growing more intense, burning with restrained hunger as he forced himself not to let his gaze wander down her body—hidden and maddeningly unreachable beneath the frustrating layers of her long and ugly gown.

Around them, guttural moans and breathy cries filled the inn’s heavy air, raw and unashamed. Aria stood frozen, her arms stiff at her sides as she clenched her fists, her breath caught in her throat.

She averted her eyes from the sensual display, trying to anchor herself in anything else—but the sound, the heat, the tension—it pulled her gaze right back as if an invisible force gripped her by the jaw and forced her to look.

It was appalling. It was shocking. It was... a lot.

Her heart raced in wild, uneven thumps as she took in the growing number of vampires who had gone ahead to fully give into their desires, without shame or hesitation.

"They’re victims," she murmured, her voice barely more than a breath as her lips trembled with the weight of the realization.

But Zyren only chuckled at her side, his grip tightening around her wrist as he began pulling her toward the stairs, his voice a low whisper laced with amusement and dark satisfaction.

"Willing victims," he corrected with a smirk, as if the word willing was all that mattered, as though consent cleansed the corruption of what they were doing.

But Aria wasn’t listening anymore. She couldn’t. Her blood pounded too loudly in her ears. Her legs followed, powerless to resist as he tugged her up the stairs, step by step, toward the rooms.

Her chest tightened with dread and her face was drawn in a knot of worry as he pulled her into the room at the end of the long corridor upstairs.

The door had just slammed behind them when she jumped at the sound, her heart lurching violently in her chest.

The room they entered was lavish, far more luxurious than anything else she’d seen in the inn. It was large—easily the largest room in the place, she was sure.

The walls were covered in elegant, soft-toned tapestries, and the furniture was finely crafted, every curve and line speaking of wealth and careful attention. The bed stood in the center, massive. Drapes drawn, but the thin curtains allowed slivers of golden afternoon light to spill through, casting a warm glow over everything.

Still, even with all that, her eyes—remained fixed on the man standing a few feet away. Zyren. His eyes, his posture, his presence consumed all of her senses.

She swallowed hard, her throat dry as sandpaper, her fingers twitching nervously. Slowly, almost instinctively, her hands reached for the high collar of her gown, gripping the fabric like a shield, even as she backed up toward the nearest window.

He watched her, and she saw the flicker of a smirk ghost across his face—mocking and darkly amused. Then, without a word, he raised his hands and pulled the cloak from his shoulders, letting it slide off and fall onto the bed with a soft rustle.

Underneath, he wore an armless shirt that revealed every ripple of muscle in his arms, pale skin unmarred by even the smallest scar. The power in them was terrifying.

Aria’s lips parted slightly in fear as she watched the way his muscles flexed when he moved. Her stomach knotted as he dropped onto the bed like a man completely at ease with his dominance over everything—including her.

"Come. Take my shoes off."

His command was calm but absolute. And oddly, it didn’t carry the violent threat she expected. It was almost... mundane. Her body eased just a little, enough for her to obey. Her guard remained high, but some of the immediate fear dimmed, just enough for her to step forward.

He hadn’t thrown her down or sunk his teeth into her like the vampires downstairs. Not yet. That alone bought her the tiniest sliver of relief.

’I’ll stay here...’ she told herself firmly as she knelt in front of him, keeping her eyes low, her hands shaking ever so slightly. ’...until I find a way to kill him... or at least make him regret killing my parents. Then I’ll leave.’

That resolve anchored her. That hatred. It was all she had.

Besides, he was king. He could have anyone he wanted. Any human would throw themselves at him. Why would he want someone like her?

Aria couldn’t stop the bitter thought from rising. Apart from her fiery red hair there was nothing special about her. Nothing delicate. Nothing desirable. She wasn’t beautiful like her sister, who men seemed to lose themselves over. And she wasn’t slender either like her mother and sister something men always seemed to prefer.

’why else would she cover herself in so many layers’

She bent her head and focused on the task. Her fingers moved to the complicated laces of his shoes, cursing them under her breath for how difficult they were. Every motion was careful. She refused to touch his skin, even as her trembling hands slid around the heavy shoes, about to pull one off... then the other.

But then a strong hand seized her chin, firm and commanding, lifting her gaze up to meet his without warning. Her whole body jerked with the sudden contact. She tried to recoil, to yank herself away, but his grip was unrelenting.

"You thought I would take you to bed?" he asked, his voice laced with that mocking sharpness that infuriated her to the core. His expression was cruelly amused, his smirk only deepening as her cheeks flamed with heat.

Aria’s breath caught. She couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. Her mind scrambled for something to say.

’Of course not! Even I know my—’

But the rest of the thought was snatched from her as his next words hit her like a slap.

"I will. I definitely will."

He said it like a promise.

His thumb brushed along her jaw, and for a moment, his gaze dipped—just briefly—to her lips. Then he let her go.

"I will thrust into you over and over again, and you will beg me to go deeper."

Aria’s whole face went pale, then flushed red. Her eyes were wide, stunned, her mouth falling open in a mixture of horror and disbelief.

The words—so raw, so brazenly obscene—slammed into her like a blow. She could barely breathe, each syllable burning into her skin.

"I will touch you, and tears will fill your eyes as you moan in ecstasy under me."

He said it like he could already see it.

"I will kiss every inch of your skin and you will let me"

Her mouth trembled before she managed to find her voice—sharp, furious, and ringing with righteous outrage.

"That’s never going to happen!" she spat, her glare sharp enough to slice through stone, her voice full of conviction, defiance lighting up her face like a torch.

Just like the certainty that the sun would rise the next day, she believed those words with every fiber of her being.

But then she heard it—the scoff. So arrogant. So sure. It made her blood boil. She wanted to tear his smug face apart. And yet... his dark, unwavering gaze stayed locked on hers, and in it, she saw something even more terrifying than lust.

Certainty.