“I won’t be shamed,” I warned him, the husky words breaking free from my throat. “Not by you. Not by anyone. I’ve dealt with it enough in my life that I refuse to feel it with you too.”

It was difficult to look arrogant and downright regal with a raging erection in supremely tight pants…and yet Azur somehow pulled it off. His eyes even narrowed on me, his lips pulling down into a familiar scowl.

Maybe if he knew that I received pleasure from the feedings, he would back off. He seemed to want to hurt me. He didn’t want to please me.

“For Alaire’s mercy, tell me, wife, exactly what shame do you think you’ve had to endure in your lifetime?” he growled. “The shame of your father’s greed? The shame of hiding your family’s ruin from the nobles in the Collis, fretting over the loss of your jewels and your estate and your precious keepers?”

My cheeks went even hotter. “You know nothing about me.”

His laugh was biting as he approached. “I’ve heard about the Hara daughters. I’ve heard you’re all spoiled rotten. Little grasping vines climbing up to stations high above them, spending credits that they don’t have on frivolous things that mean nothing, while their father begs for money from whoever is foolish enough to give him some. But let me tell you one thing, Gemma Hara. Desperation has a particular stench to it. It will warn everyone away. I could smell it before I ever laid eyes on you.”

A shocked breath escaped me.

The image he’d conjured…that wasn’t me. That wasn’t Mira. And for all her faults, if Piper had known about the debts, she wouldn’t have been so careless with our money. She would’ve been the first one to step up to try to fix our situation.

And that was on me. That was on Father, desperate to keep the truth from both of them.

“It didn’t seem to warn you away, husband.”

Chapter 15

Azur

Raazos’s blood, had a female ever made me so fucking infuriated before? I felt like I was on the verge of a rage, but I couldn’t tell if it was from the high off her blood or because she made mine boil.

Maybe both.

Likely both.

“You’ve heard wrong,” she added, glaring, even when her cheeks were still flushed from her orgasm.

I had half a mind to push her back against the door and feed a second time. I would laugh as she moaned her pleasure because at least an orgasm would tie that tongue into knots and she would stop lying to me for a damn moment.

“Do you always have to have the last word, wife?” I bit out.

“Do you?” she snapped back.

When I left this room, I was going straight into mine to rip off my pants that felt three sizes too small. Then I would furiously fuck my fist so that I could think straight.

I had never expected for the blood madness to be this distracting. To be this frustrating.

This is a problem, I couldn’t help but think.

When I’d taken a Hara daughter for my own, I hadn’t expected to want to fuck her.

Instead, I had wanted her fear. I had wanted her submission. I had wanted her coward of a father to know that I would enjoy tormenting her. That I would find pleasure in it.

Because blood was blood.

If he refused to pay for his injustices, then I would make his eldest daughter pay instead before I destroyed his entire House in the eyes of the universe. For seventeen years, my family had been left in the dark. My mother’s heart had been broken when she’d passed into the next realm. Only until recently had we known the truth about what had happened to Aina on Pe’ji.

Who could have foreseen that Gemma Hara would be my kyrana?

It was a sick joke. Another injustice against House Kaalium.

But I wondered if it was a lesson from our gods and goddesses. I wondered if this was meant to humble me. An obstacle that needed to be overcome…or a warning that this was not the way to redeeming Aina’s lost soul.

With a dawning grim realization, I realized that this punishing desire—hot and needful and frustrating—meant one thing.

Eventually, I would fuck my wife.

Either during one of my rages, fueled by her own blood, when my restraint and control was at its weakest. Or I would fuck her to make a point. To show her that she could give me that sharp tongue but that I could still make her scream for me. That I could control her, that I could make her weak and needy, that I could make her submit.

Resignation—mingled with the alarming sensation of anticipation—thrummed through me.

Gemma was still glaring at me in her thin dress. Kylorr females rarely wore such garments. Flying in dresses, I assumed, would be considered an inconvenient annoyance, as Kalia had often grumbled to me.

But on Gemma…I found the sight of her pointed nipples through the soft material arousing. And there was a certain illicit thrill in my belly, knowing that I could push up the hem and she’d be bared to me, ready for a rough, punishing fuck.

The taste of her blood was still on my tongue, and already, I was hungry for more. I wondered how much more of my venom she could take. So much that a simple brush of my claws against her skin could trigger an orgasm?

I took a step toward her.

I heard her harsh swallow, saw the way her gaze flitted over my body, gauging the new swelling of my strength.

I nearly grinned.

“Do I make you nervous?” I asked her, continuing to approach. There was something infinitely appealing about hate-fucking her. Perhaps because for the Kylorr, going through a rage and having sex were—more often than not—intertwined. It was what our ancestors had done. Gone out battling and come back to their wives and lovers and kyranas to unleash the pent-up aggression and savor their victory. Sex had been a celebration.

And with Gemma?

That was what it would be.

A celebration of her submission.

Venom dripped from my fangs at the thought.

I heard the door knob rattle behind her when her back met it again.

“We can come to an understanding, Azur,” she murmured quietly, her voice oddly calm. “An agreement.”

Intrigued, I cocked my head, stepping into her space. Her breath hitched when I brushed the pads of my fingers over her bite mark, staring at the small wound. A human gentleman, if he had the power to, would heal the skin for her. All it would take was a little of my own blood, mixed with my venom, and the wound would be gone within moments.

But I didn’t. I wanted her to feel me. I wanted her to remember me, all of her waking moments.

“An agreement,” I repeated. On her next inhale, the swells of her small breasts brushed my chest. “Are you bargaining with me, little wife?”

“Yes,” she said quietly, her eyes darting between my own. My left wing twitched briefly. “You want to feed from me. And you know you can. Whenever you want. But I won’t fight you. Not unless…”

She blinked, lifting her chin slightly.

“Not unless you want me to,” she finished. “If you want me to be afraid, then I’ll be afraid.”

She thought I got off on her fear.

She wouldn’t be wrong, came that treacherous little voice in the back of my mind. I had found pleasure in her fear.

“Sometimes a Kylorr wishes for blood feedings multiple times a day,” I couldn’t help but growl. Her scent swam in my nostrils, making more venom drip on my tongue.

Her voice was quiet and strong as she said, “And I would give you those feedings.”

“You would be on a supplement to replenish your blood quickly,” I rasped. “On baanye.”

“I’ll take it,” she answered.

I grunted. Reaching forward, I clasped her chin, tilting her face up. Her cheeks were still flushed. I could still smell the remnants of her arousal and the thick, maddening scent of her orgasm, slick between her thighs.