Desire in His Blood

Only, he’d never harmed me.

Azur rolled his neck and I heard it pop. His gaze drifted down, and it took me a moment to realize my breasts were still out, the top of the neckline ripped open.

I flushed, gathering up the material to shield my nudity.

“I only have so many dresses, you know,” I grumbled, unable to help myself from grouching at him even though he was on the verge of a rage. “I’ll have to sew this one just like the one from a couple nights ago.”

Azur’s gaze narrowed. “Don’t bother,” he bit out. “It’s hideous and needs to be burned.”

Embarrassment made my cheeks heat. My temper—normally tame and manageable—reared its head, making me snap back, “This dress has lasted me for years, even in the mines. Not all of us have the luxury of buying pretty things that aren’t practical.”

Azur’s eyes burned. If I was afraid of him, that look would’ve scorched me where I stood, but as it was, I glared back at him, undaunted.

This was a game between us, I’d begun to realize. When he wasn’t feeding off me, when I wasn’t coming my brains out, we were usually sniping at each other.

Like a…

Well, like an old married couple.

“You will never step foot in another mine in your entire lifetime, so what does it matter?” Azur hissed back, lowering himself so that we eye level. My eyes flicked to his lips, suddenly jarred because I remembered his kiss. Oh gods, he’d kissed me, hadn’t he? And I’d…liked it?

And I wanted to kiss him again.

A rough huff exhaled from his nostrils, and when I looked up to his eyes, I saw that his were now on my lips.

I held my breath as his dull claw reached forward, brushing the fullness of my bottom one. I was still bleeding a little from his tiny, nipping bite, and I could taste the metallic tang on my tongue. His touch was surprisingly gentle, and when a dab of my blood came away on his thumb, I watched, with a swirl of dizziness, as he sucked the pad clean. His eyes darkened. There was a new kind of awareness stretching between us now, tight and breathless.

Azur seemed to shake himself. He straightened, towering over me, blocking the sunlight behind him, casting me in shadow.

“Besides,” he continued, clearing his throat, “you’re my wife. The Kylaira of Laras. You think you can continue to dress in these rags and not embarrass House Kaalium?”

I bit the side of my cheek to keep myself from snapping at him.

He saw it. Nearly smirked. And that irritated me.

“I’ll arrange for a clothier to come to the keep tomorrow morning,” he told me next, his tone stern. “I’m certain my sister will be more than pleased to help you spend my credits and fill your closets.”

I stiffened even though the greedy part of me—the thread that all the Haras seemed to share—perked up at the notion of things. New, glittering, pretty things. New dresses. Clothes. Things I hadn’t allowed myself to have in years.

The want mingled with my pride.

“I don’t need new dresses,” I said, sniffing. “I have a few that are perfectly acceptable for—”

“Wife,” he growled, cutting me off. He jabbed his black claw at me again, his pointed ears twitching. Which I found…fascinating. “For once, do not argue with me.”

I glowered at him but bit my tongue.

“Good,” he rasped, pleased. “Maybe you can be tamed.”

To prevent myself from clawing at his eyes, I tilted my head to regard the Silver Sea, fuming. My ire softened when I remembered the skim of the water against my fingertips, the lap of the waves against my hair as Azur had flown me over it.

I’d never experienced anything like that before.

I’d never felt so free. So thrilled. So weightless.

And I wanted to do it again.

Drawing in a deep breath, I turned to Azur. He might deny me. But I’d ask all the same.

“Will you take me over the sea again?”

Azur’s gaze steadily flickered between my eyes. His expression was unreadable as always, his slitted pupils widening before contracting. His fangs were still elongated and pressed against his surprisingly soft lips.

“If you take the baanye, I will,” he grumbled finally. His gaze sharpened when my lips parted. “At every meal.”

A small price, I supposed, to experience the thrill of flying. I was looking at those wings in a whole new light. A new world had been opened up to me.

With a curt nod, trying to hide my blooming excitement, I sniffed and said primly, “That’s fair.”

Did Azur’s lips quirk? I couldn’t be certain.

Maybe…maybe my life in Kry

What would happen if we met in the middle?

“Ludayn,” Azur called out suddenly, raising his voice.

My brow furrowed.

My indigo-haired keeper suddenly scurried down the steps from the upper terrace. My cheeks reddened. How long had she been nearby?

Likely the whole time, I knew. Gods, had she heard us? As my keeper, she was never far, always waiting nearby to serve me food or drinks, especially when Kalia and I worked on the starwood blooms. It was her duty, I’d begun to realize. To make sure I was content, cared for.

“Yes, Kyzaire?” she asked breathlessly.

“Take the Kylaira up to her rooms,” Azur ordered her, though his gaze never left mine. “She seems to have ripped her dress.”

I shot him a warning glare.

“So clumsy,” he purred, making my heart stutter in my chest, just as a jarring, familiar warmth bloomed between my thighs. He turned from me then, and I gaped after him. “And make sure she drinks her baanye. I don’t care if you have to force it down her throat.”

With that, my silver-tongued charmer of a husband disappeared, shooting into the sky, flying toward the balcony that I guessed was his office in the west wing of the keep.

I met Ludayn’s gaze with burning cheeks.

She bit her lip with glinting fangs to hide her smile. “Come, Kylaira, let’s get you changed.”

Chapter 22

Gemma

“Ludayn.”

“Yes?” my keeper asked, still admiring the fabrics on my new clothes, ru

Luxurious dresses spilled from my wardrobe, in various shades of blues and lilacs and silver, crafted with material so light and airy it felt like I was wearing nothing at all. Another dress was blood red. The plunging bodice shimmered with silver metal swirls which had been sewn so tightly and expertly they resembled embroidery. Kalia had argued that I needed a dress for the harvest ball, though I’d told her that Azur likely didn’t want me to attend.

She’d waved her hand and gotten her way, telling the clothier—who wasn’t a Kylorr at all but a Hindras female, small with nimble, delicate fingers—to add it to the purchase order. Estee was her name. Hindras had always reminded me of faeries from the Old Earth stories, with translucent wings to match, though they didn’t fly. But their bones seemed hollow and they had large, unblinking, black, glossy eyes that I could see my reflection in.

Also added to that purchase order—which Kalia had gleefully helped me fill, as Azur had guessed she might—were pants and trews and beautiful, flowing tops of various styles. Fitted leather vests that clung to my breasts, waist, and hips, like Kalia wore, inlaid with metals. Even little baubles of silver to adorn my wrists and hair.

Everything together must have cost a small fortune.