Chapter 77: Zyren’s bed {3}

Her face was flushed a deep crimson, her cheeks blooming with the color of heat and shame, and her lips—wet and bruised—had darkened to an even deeper red.

Zyren licked his own lips, slow and deliberate, his gaze drinking in every quiver and tremble of her bare, heaving form beneath him.

She writhed uncontrollably, the soft, broken sounds spilling from her lips only feeding the fire in his eyes. He could see it—her entire body had become painfully sensitive, trembling on the edge of a release she hadn’t even known her body was capable of.

"Wa-wait!" her voice cracked, a desperate gasp that tried to hold back what had already begun.

His fingers moved faster, more deliberately, with practiced precision, dragging her to that precipice again and again, each movement of his hand wringing another desperate sound from her lips.

Aria’s hands flew out blindly, and finding nothing else to hold onto, she clung to him. Her arms wrapped around his body tightly, her fingers curling against his back like she was drowning and he was the only thing anchoring her to this world.

Her legs shook violently as the storm of pleasure consumed her. She wrapped herself around him—arms, legs, body—helpless to do anything else. The wave came fast, crashing through her with blinding intensity, stealing the air from her lungs as her eyes fluttered closed. Her heart thudded wildly in her chest, each beat louder than the last, echoing in her ears as the world faded into a haze of white and heat.

Slowly, her breathing began to steady.

Her lashes twitched before her eyes closed fully, blocking out the image of him above her. And when she finally came back to herself, awareness creeping in like an unwanted guest, her heart sank.

She felt the space between them first—Zyren had pulled away.

Her own limbs released their hold, and her eyes opened slowly. The chill of shame prickled along her bare skin. She was naked, the sheets tangled around her waist, and her coat lay torn on the floor.

Her cheeks deepened in color, the flush of arousal replaced by a heavy blush of humiliation. Shame rolled through her in waves as the realization dawned—what she had done. What she had allowed. And with him

.

Her gaze darted up, locking with Zyren’s. The red in his eyes had dulled, but there was still a glint of something unreadable behind them. Her heart pounded harder, but this time not from pleasure—this time, it was fear, confusion, and a sickening self-loathing.

She scrambled back, surprised when Zyren allowed it. She snatched the bedsheet with trembling hands, pulling it over her chest as if it could hide the undeniable truth of what had just passed between them. Her breathing was still uneven, gasping, shallow, but worse than that was the heat building once more—deep in her core, spreading slowly, maddeningly.

It wasn’t over. The sensation hadn’t stopped—it was growing again.

"This is not going to end, is it?" she asked, voice tight with anger. Her eyes narrowed on him, fury barely masking the panic beginning to take root in her chest. She folded into herself, clutching the sheet closer.

Zyren’s response came sharp and unapologetic. "No, it’s not."

His tone was clipped, flat, but the flicker of impatience that crossed his features was impossible to miss. He was growing weary—and less inclined to entertain resistance.

"The heat won’t stop until you mate with someone," he continued coldly. "Your bloodline is unique."

"Unique," she spat, the word like poison in her mouth. "More like a curse."

She grit her teeth, hating how the heat was curling in her belly again, making her thighs clench together uselessly. Her breathing picked up, shallow and frantic. Her body was betraying her all over again.

Not again. Not now.

"My father was a hunter!" she hissed. "What does bloodline have to do with—"

"People do things for power," Zyren cut in sharply, his eyes narrowing.

His expression darkened, a shadow falling over his face as he abruptly stepped back. Aria’s breath caught in her throat.

He turned from her, bending to retrieve the coat he had tossed aside earlier. She watched him in stunned silence, eyes narrowing in suspicion as she saw him begin to dress himself with cold indifference.

"I’m King," he said, voice gravelly. "Forcing someone to sleep with me is beneath me."

His tone was blank again, emotionless—but the bulge under his robe was still clearly present. The hunger had not faded from him.

And yet he moved toward the door, footsteps calm, composed. He pushed it open—but didn’t step through.

His voice dropped into something far darker, colder.

"Get out!!!"

The command rang through the chamber like a whip crack, hard and final.

A moment ago, she would have crawled away without hesitation. But now?

Now her legs refused to move. The heat was back—thicker, more insistent. A slick, aching wetness grew between her thighs again, and the painful pressure built alongside it, worse than before.

Her fingers clenched in the sheets.

Leaving this room meant finding someone else. Letting someone else... touch her.

’No man would dare to touch her!’

Zyren remained by the door, unmoving.

"I won’t repeat myself," he said, his voice dropping into a chilling growl.

"I—I’ll sleep with you," Aria blurted suddenly. Tears filled her eyes, blurring her vision. The memory of her father’s broken body. Her brother’s lifeless face filled her mind and it threatened to tear her very soul apart but still she sat on the bed and made no move to head out the door.

She trembled where she sat, naked and kneeling on the bed, hands still fisted in the sheets. She didn’t move toward him.

Zyren didn’t either.

Instead, he folded his arms across his chest, the look on his face condescending and cold.

"I’ll rather have Vivian!" and for a full moment Aria couldn’t tell whether or not he was joking, especially when he looked dead serious and looked at her with such disinterest that the panic she felt only got worse as the pain in her body increased, and her shame twisted into something close to desperation.

She considered bluffing—claiming she could leave and find someone else.

But she knew better.

No one would touch her now. Not with the King’s mark on her. And not when every inch of her body responded only to him.

"...Vivian was more than willing to please me," he continued with a look that said that it was what he wanted, and he didn’t have time to deal with a woman who kept on flinching at his every touch.

The heat was one thing, and her sister’s survival was another. In any other situation, Aria could have continued to refuse, but she didn’t dare as she repeated what she said in a louder voice, even as her voice cracked as she said it, with tears in her eyes.

"I-I want you!" she said, even as she met his gaze anxiety consumed her when all she was met with was silence, even as Zyren stood by the door looking at her without speaking.

She was about to speak again when she suddenly saw him move even as he slowly moved back towards the bed. Aria wanted to jerk away, but she didn’t even as she knelt on the bed until they were only a few feet apart.

She didn’t flinch this time. Not even when he reached her.

He leaned in.

His lips brushed her neck, and his fangs grazed her skin—but Aria remained still, voice barely above a whisper.

"I hate you," she breathed, "and you’ll pay for what you did."

A low, pleased chuckle rumbled from his chest.

He leaned in closer, eyes gleaming.

"For that..." he said with a grin, "...I’ll expect nothing less."