In the back of my mind, I knew I’d already taken a lot of her blood last night. I could not take much more. This had been intended as a warning. I hadn’t been planning to feed from her again until I returned from the northern border, but she’d raised the challenge herself.

And if there was one thing she would come to discover about me, it was that I never backed down. She didn’t fear me enough. Perhaps that was my own mistake.

A desperate moan escaped her throat, and I felt that sound travel straight to my cock. I didn’t want to want her. I didn’t want this desire, this lust that came from feeding off a blood mate.

But the kyrana bond was powerful. It had been powerful for our ancestors, for the ancient warrior berserkers who’d sated themselves on their enemies’ blood after a victory and then taken out their lusts and the remainder of their rages on their mates in the aftermath.

The act of feeding itself was not sexual. Not usually.

For most, it was as impersonal as fueling ourselves with actual food from our lands. Pleasant but ultimately, a way to satisfy a necessity.

But this…

I’d never felt the act of feeding tied to my own sexual pleasure before.

Especially when the object and source of my pleasure was Gemma Hara.

My wife was gripping my wrist. Squeezing. Encouraging me? Or warning me?

It can be both, I decided, feeling my own maelstrom of emotions as they roved and swirled and pricked and soothed me.

When she swayed on her knees, I retracted my fangs in a rush, growling that I was denying myself, not nearly as sated as I needed to be on her blood. I wanted to gorge myself on it.

Swiping my tongue over my bottom lip, one last hit of her blood nearly making my eyes roll back, I looked down at her, still on her knees before me.

My cock was throbbing. The swell of my seal, my knot, at the base of my shaft was engorged. When I shifted, I nearly groaned as it rubbed against the smooth material of my pants.

For a brief moment…I allowed myself to imagine it. Seating myself so deep inside the daughter of my enemy that my seal rooted into place, keeping every last drop of my seed stoppered within her, as my fangs were imbedded in her neck, drinking deep as ecstasy exploded through me.

What would that even be like? I’d fucked and fed at the same time before with past lovers. But with my kyrana?

Not many could claim they’d experienced that.

Gemma was leaning to the side, holding herself in place by the leg of one of the chairs. Dazed.

Crouching low, I studied her face as the hit of strength from the brief feeding made me feel like I could fly to Koro and back. I could cross oceans with this strength.

Unbelievable, I thought to myself. No wonder the berserkers of old were said to be unparalleled in their rages. The mightiest of the berserkers had already found their kyranas, or so the histories claimed.

Now I believed those accounts.

Because this kind of strength was unfathomable until it was experienced. This kind of strength could win entire wars.

Taking Gemma’s wrist in my grip once more, I studied my bite. She didn’t move away from me. She didn’t even flinch at my touch. She met my gaze steadily, even though her eyes were still half-lidded with residual pleasure.

Stubborn female.

My wife would make me work harder that I’d thought I’d have to to make her submit.

Leaning forward, my tongue slithered out, and she froze as I lapped at the bite, dragging it up slowly, my venom stopping the bleeding, coagulating her blood, but I decided against healing the flesh.

My mouth watered as I got one last aching taste of her.

“When you look down at my mark today,” I murmured to her, reaching forward to tilt up her chin so she met my gaze, “I want you to remember your pride. I want you to remember how it shattered as you went down to your knees before me. And remember it well.”

Her glare snapped back into place, her spine straightening.

A dark grin stole over my face.

Gemma had surprised me. She’d intentionally tried to throw my words back in my face by doing the unexpected.

But pride was pride.

I had enough of it, too, to know that my words would infuriate her.

Smoothing my thumb over her cheek one last time, I rose without a whisper of a sound. She climbed to her feet angrily, gripping the edge of the table until she stood, fists clenched at her side. I imagined that it also enraged her how much larger I was. I imagined it cut that she had to crane her neck back so far to meet my eyes.

My body was still humming with desire, and judging from the hard press of Gemma’s nipples against the silk of her dress, she was just as disgusted about it as I was too.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Zaale coming back to the terrace, a fresh pot of thickened tea one of my brothers had sent from Vyaan perched in his hands.

His step stuttered when he saw me, and I ground my back teeth. Could he tell? Could he see the change in me, the difference that my kyrana’s blood made?

Of course he can, I thought. Zaale had been a keeper in my family’s estate since before Kythel and I had been born. He would be able to tell.

And I saw when realization hit him. When his gaze flickered to Gemma, assessing her in a way he hadn’t before.

“We will speak when I return,” I told Zaale gruffly as he approached the table. “I need to leave. I’ll be back tomorrow night.”

Gemma’s head snapped to me. Was that relief in her expression?

“Very well, Kyzaire,” Zaale murmured, setting the tea down, his movements stiff.

Because he knew what this meant.

I wanted to tell him that he didn’t need to worry. I had made a promise to my family. I had prayed to our gods and goddesses at House Kaalium’s shrine. I would not turn my back on Aina. I would secure her vengeance and her justice for us all.

“Tell Maazin I need the lore yield reports upon my return,” I added. “I’ve reminded him once already and am reaching the end of my patience.”

“I’ll make sure it gets done,” Zaale replied.

Turning back to Gemma, I informed her gruffly, “Stay out of the keepers’ ways. You may roam the estate, but do not venture into the villages below.”

Her jaw tightened. “You’ll have me watched?”

“Would you rather be locked up in your rooms?” I asked, quirking my brow as I stepped toward her, my belly heating with the thought. “Because I can certainly arrange that in my absence.”

Wisely, she kept her mouth shut. Bit her tongue actually, judging by the small clench in the sides of her cheeks.

“Good wife,” I purred, savoring the spark of fury that lit up her gaze at the words. Leaning forward, my lips brushing the shell of her ear, I murmured, “Rest up. I’ll be ravenous when I return.”

Chapter 13

Gemma

Leaning against the banister of the terrace, pressing my belly into its front, I sighed, lovingly tracing the view of the Silver Sea, memorizing every lapping ripple and wave that came my way and crashed into the cliffs below, sending a salty spray upward that misted through my hair.

Even with the peaceful view and the surprising freedom that I’d been afforded around Azur’s keep, I found that I was getting restless.

Bored, even.

I’d been working myself to the bone for the last five years, hauling myself up before dawn to oversee the work in the blue salt mines, before trudging back to our estate at nightfall to run through inventories and export schedules and ledgers of balances and debts. Worrying myself sick over when the next debt collector would come. Wondering if I’d find my father beaten and bruised again when it came to light that he couldn’t pay.