Chapter 287: Clingy

None of the people there dared to question Zyren or even hesitate, all of them painfully aware of the kind of person he was. Even if he hadn’t killed anyone recently, his reputation preceded him in a way that made it hard—nearly impossible—for any of them to even think of daring him. His presence was a blade held at the throat of the room: silent, gleaming, and promising consequences for the foolish.Chairs scraped against the floor in a frantic chorus. Doors opened and closed in quick succession. No one lingered, no one looked back. In less than a minute, silence swallowed the room whole, thick as smoke.

It took barely a few minutes before the hall became completely empty with the door closed and shut. The hollow thud of the latch echoed longer than it should have, as though the room itself understood that something irreversible had begun.

The moment the latch clicked, the energy around Zyren shifted—sharper, heavier, like a predator finally unchained.

A moment had barely passed before she felt his lips on her own, the smell of his bloody breath mixing with the faint metallic tang on her tongue. Even the taste of her own blood mingled with the kiss he pressed against her, pulling her into an intimacy that felt far more dangerous than anything he had done publicly.

The kiss was fierce, consuming, driven by emotions too tangled to name. Not explicit—but deeply charged, heated enough to blur her thoughts and draw her into the storm that lived behind his crimson eyes. His urgency made her pulse spike. She hated that her body answered him as readily as it did.

Before she could ground herself, Zyren pushed her onto the table with an impatience that burned through the last of her balance. It made it clear he wanted nothing more than to claim her fully, right there between the scattered papers and dim lanterns.

The motion was swift, driven by urgency rather than gentleness. Her breath caught as the world tilted backward, the edge of the table pressing against her spine as she struggled to find her bearings.

Aira gritted her teeth for a moment, her hands balled at her sides even as she watched him hitch her gown to her waist. There was no hesitation in him—Zyren moved with a certainty that left no room for argument. She saw his intention in the tension of his jaw, in the hunger burning in his eyes.

Aira had mentally prepared herself to put some distance between them considering what she planned to do, but what was she supposed to do when he suddenly decided to toss himself onto her? There had been a plan—a carefully built resolve. But some plans weren’t made to withstand storms like Zyren.

Her breath stuttered as he leaned into her, the heat of his body pressing her down. His movements weren’t slow or careful; they were full of a need he didn’t bother hiding. The closeness left her senses spinning, her thoughts fraying at the edges.

His breath was heavy and his eyes were even more intense as he kissed her again—deeper this time, passionate enough for her to gasp for air between the demanding pulls of his mouth. His hands framed her waist, anchoring her. The rhythm of his body against hers stole her focus, every shift drawing her further into him.

Intensity, closeness, and the overwhelming force of Zyren’s emotions pressed down on her like a tide she couldn’t fight. The room shrank until it was just the two of them, drowning in the heat and the weight of everything they refused to name aloud.

Aira couldn’t help the soft sounds that escaped her lips, no matter how hard she tried to keep them in. Each one felt like a betrayal. She had wanted to be distant, cold, unmovable—but her body responded to him with a desperation that made her cling to him despite every decision she’d made an hour earlier.

Her thoughts slipped, replaced by sensation. Her resolve dissolved with every breath he stole from her. Being caught between what she felt and what she wanted to feel twisted her in a way she couldn’t describe.

By the time the moment crested—when she felt the world tilt and fracture in a blinding, trembling rush—she was too far gone to care. Her pleasure bloomed hot and overwhelming, leaving her legs trembling. Zyren’s grip on her thighs tightened, pulling her against him as he leaned deeper into her, holding her as if afraid she’d vanish if he let go too soon.

The room steadied slowly around her. Sweat dotted her brow, strands of her hair sticking to her temples. Zyren didn’t move back. Instead, he stayed pressed to her, his breathing rough and uneven. Then he leaned in, brushing a small kiss against her nose.

It was such an absurdly gentle gesture that it disarmed her more than anything else he’d done. Aira refused to think about it—refused to let the tenderness mean anything. She repeated the words in her mind like a shield cracking under pressure:

This is sex. Nothing more.

She clung to the mantra even though it felt thinner than paper.

Zyren’s arms remained around her as he whispered near her ear, his voice hot enough to warm her skin.

"I like it when you call my name with such..."

She didn’t let him finish. She pushed hard against his chest, trying to put space between them. Trying to break the moment before it wrapped around her throat and choked her.

But he didn’t pull away. He didn’t even flinch. Instead, he held her with the same quiet control that always made her wary—like someone holding a knife to her throat with a smile.

"...fervor," he finished anyway, his lips brushing her ear. "We could do it again and again."

The danger in his tone wasn’t the sharp kind—it was warm, coaxing, seductive in a way that made the thought feel far too easy to agree to. Every slight shift of his body made her breath hitch. The temptation hung in the air, heavy enough to drown in.

But she bit her lip hard, forcing herself to meet his gaze. She stared at him in silence, willing him to step back, to stop holding her in a moment she needed to escape.

He only smiled slightly, eyes still burning.

"We could be happy," he said, voice low—almost like he sensed a coming storm and was trying to quiet it before it ripped everything apart. "I can give you everything you’ll ever need. I can give you—"

"Then give me my father and brother back," she cut in sharply, her voice cold enough to shatter the haze lingering over her skin.

Her eyes locked onto his as she forced the leftover warmth in her body into silence.

Zyren’s expression shifted. His red eyes bore into her brown ones with the weight of a truth she already knew too well.

"They’re dead," he said straightforwardly. No hesitation. No attempt to soften it.

"...so you can’t give me everything," she replied with a dark smirk, her eyes glittering with a decision that had been waiting beneath the surface far longer than the heat between them.

Zyren chuckled—low, humorless, but real.

"...I can give you everything but that. I can’t bring people back from the dead," he told her, voice steady. But by then Aira had heard enough. She pushed against him again, wanting him off her—wanting her space back.

He made it clear he wasn’t planning on letting go.

With disarming ease, he shifted, pulling her fully into his lap as he sat down on the nearby chair. "Sit," he commanded. "I’ll feed you."

Aira rolled her eyes, not hiding her annoyance in the slightest.

"...here I thought you had fed me enough," she muttered. Zyren chuckled, the sound deep and satisfied, betraying how much amusement he found in her attitude.

Despite her glare, he proceeded to feed her, lifting pieces of food to her lips with deliberate patience. Aira allowed it, fully aware she had no real choice—not when Zyren had decided something.

"You fed me," he said simply, "so it’s only good that I do the same."

Aira continued chewing, ignoring him as best she could, though the weight of his hand on her waist made ignoring him nearly impossible.

It took a long while before she finished eating. Even then, he didn’t let her go. His arms remained around her, grounding her in a way she hated admitting felt steady.

By the time they stepped out of the room, everyone had already left—most likely to have dinner in their respective rooms or villas.

"My king, I’d like to take my leave to rest!" Aria said her heart pounding in her chest when Zyren walked with her acting like he was prepared to follow her back to her room.

Hating how much her body wanted him to, something she found hard to explain no matter how much she tried to figure it out.