Chapter 234: Who is a pet?

"What?" Aira gasped, her voice sharp and brittle, like glass about to shatter.A completely shocked expression overtook her face, every feature twisting in disbelief as she pushed at him with frantic hands.

Her palms pressed against the hard lines of his chest, trying to separate him from her, trying to carve space between their bodies as if distance alone could protect her. But her desperate attempt didn’t work.

Zyren did not yield. He simply clung closer to her, his arms tightening with all the force of chains forged in steel, making it painfully clear that he had no intention of letting her go.

The strength in his grip was not merely physical—it was centuries of domination, arrogance, and entitlement condensed into the hold of one immortal being.

"I said what I said!" Zyren emphasized, his crimson gaze locking onto her, merciless in its certainty. "You can have a child!"

The words echoed through the air like the toll of a bell, heavy and unrelenting.


"My child!" he repeated, his voice slicing through the silence with the weight of command.

Aira’s lips parted in horror, but no words came out. Panic plastered itself across her face, her breath catching, her body trembling. Yet Zyren ignored it, ignored her terror as though it were inconsequential.

He pressed himself more comfortably into her, as if her resistance amused him, as if her body existed only to suit his ease.

He thrust gently, not enough to bruise but enough to make her back stiffen, the sensation lodging deep within her muscles. The gentleness was almost cruel, the way it reignited the pleasure that had begun to die down, coaxing it back into her body against her will. Her chest rose sharply, her nails dug into his skin, and the humiliation of feeling that traitorous spark of heat build again left her throat tight.

"Can you—" she tried to speak, tried to string words together, but her voice faltered the instant Zyren’s lips descended. He kissed her again, crushing her protest beneath the weight of his mouth. It was not a kiss of tenderness, but of possession, of dominance, making it brutally clear that they were going for another round.

Aira didn’t even try to fight him this time. She knew there were things she could do afterward to prevent herself from conceiving if it came to that. Small measures. Fleeting control. But in this moment, resistance seemed as hollow as her words.

By the time Zyren finally pulled away from her, lowering her legs until her feet touched the ground again, Aira’s entire body felt unsteady. Her legs trembled beneath her, unable to support her fully. Her head bowed, her gaze locked on the floor as she rubbed her aching back muscles with slow, weary fingers.

Glaring at him wouldn’t change anything—she knew that too well. Still, she swore to herself in silence, a vow carved into the marrow of her bones: she would run away again.

It didn’t matter how much she enjoyed his touch in fleeting moments. Pleasure was not love. Pleasure without emotion left her emptier than before, leaving only shame in its wake. The more she surrendered to that weakness, the more she despised herself when it was over.

"Does your back hurt?" Zyren’s voice came again, disturbingly casual, almost conversational, as though they were speaking of something mundane.

Her first impulse was not to answer but to react—to raise her hand and drive her fist squarely into his face, to feel bone crunch under her knuckles. The thought gave her a moment of satisfaction, but she buried it quickly, turning away from him instead. Without a word, she walked, ignoring the coat that had fallen forgotten on the floor.

She had barely taken a couple of steps to leave before the world tilted. Zyren swept her into his arms with effortless strength, as if she were nothing more than a doll to be repositioned at his whim. His pace was unhurried, deliberate, and she burned with humiliation as he carried her back toward their room, his hold unbreakable.

He set her down only once inside, her feet brushing the ground. She glared at him with every ounce of hatred she could muster, but Zyren seemed impervious to it. He looked down at her with the same calm detachment, his eyes shining with the cold composure of a king who knew no challenge could touch him.

"You hate me touching you, but you enjoy the pleasure that comes with it." His voice was low and steady, neither mocking nor apologetic. He stated it simply, as one might declare the sky was blue, not even expecting an answer.

Aira turned her back on him, walking stiffly toward her side of the bed. She willed him to leave, willed the air to close around her and swallow her whole. But his voice did not falter.

"You can’t leave. And you can’t beat me!" His words cracked like a whip, striking at her core. "Shouldn’t you just give up? I can treat you well and—"

But before he could finish, Aira’s fury boiled over.

"Treat me well by fucking me in public against my will?" she screamed, her voice raw, trembling with the weight of rage that could no longer be contained.

Zyren’s response came sharp, unrepentant. "If you hated it that much, you should have bit me when I kissed you! That was what the previous you would have done!"

"...and you would have listened..." Aira fired back instantly, her tone cutting, merciless.

Silence fell between them. Heavy. Oppressive.

Zyren did not look away. His crimson eyes bore into her with unwavering calm, not even a flicker of guilt breaking their surface.

"I am strong!" he declared, his voice a rumble of certainty. His hands spread slightly, his expression marked with confusion, as though he were stating something so simple he couldn’t comprehend how she failed to see it.

"You are weak! It’s in the very nature of things for the weak to submit to the strong!"

Her breath came fast, her chest rising and falling in rapid bursts. Anger filled her, red-hot and unrelenting, searing every pore of her skin, threatening to spill over into something she couldn’t control.

She was nothing but a weak human, he said. He was a vampire who had lived for centuries, a being who embodied strength. Unless she gave him a reason to see her differently, he would never understand. Words meant nothing.

And suddenly, the rage that consumed her cracked open, twisted, and she laughed. It slipped out first as a soft giggle, sharp and unsettling, before erupting into a full, ringing chuckle that filled the chamber with defiance.

’The strong take what they want and the weak have no choice but to accept it.’ That was his truth. That was what he had forced upon her.

"I get it!" she said at last, a soft smile curling across her lips. Her voice was calm, too calm, as she raised her head to meet his blazing eyes.

"I understand it!" she corrected herself, shaking her head slowly. "No... I understand you."

She realized her mistake in that instant. She had wasted time trying to make him understand through words, trying to show him a perspective foreign to him. That was useless. That was weakness.

What she needed to do was show him.

"You’re right. The weak have no choice but to submit to the strong," she murmured, stepping toward him, her steps deliberate, her eyes locked onto his.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, her movements slow, controlled. Then she kissed him—softly, slowly, savoring every moment as though she could drink his arrogance into herself. It was not passion but precision, not surrender but strategy.

’My father’s killer. My brother’s killer.’ The thought burned in her head as her teeth caught his lip, biting just enough to draw blood. The copper taste spread across her tongue. Zyren didn’t flinch. A faint flicker of a smile played at the edge of his mouth, as though her defiance only amused him.

"Do you want to go another round?" she whispered, her tone deceptively sweet.

His eyes glinted, fascinated, as though he were looking at a new puzzle. "You have no problems breeding with me?" he asked, genuine curiosity threading through his voice.

Aira chuckled, the sound hollow, bitter. "When we get to that bridge, we’ll cross it," she said.

But deep in the sanctum of her mind, where no one could reach, she carved her vow in fire.

’You believe the strong should bend the weak? Then I wonder... what will happen when you are the one who is weak, and I am the strong one?’

The oath burned hotter than any flame. She would chase power, even at the cost of her life. She would endure destruction, bend herself into cruelty if necessary, descend into the same darkness Zyren thrived in—if it meant breaking him.

She would drag the king of vampires to his knees.

’When all is said and done,’ she whispered silently to herself, ’we’ll find out who is the pet.’

The thought blazed inside her as Zyren lifted her with ease once more and tossed her onto the bed. Her clothes tore under his hands, ripped away without pause, without permission.

And even as she accepted the pleasure his hands exhumed out of her body, Aira’s mind no longer wavered.

She had chosen.

’I’ll do the ritual and get more powerful’ even if it meant walking and crushing the heads of children vampire, human or otherwise.