My husband took the seat directly across from me. His wings spread wide, as did his arms, lazily draped over the stone edge, presenting the bulk of his finely muscled chest. On full display.

“You’re so far away,” I teased softly, eyeing him. I nearly sighed in contentment as the heat of the water loosened tight muscles and soothed small aches.

“For good reason,” he grunted, those red eyes pinned on me with the intensity I’d grown accustomed to. “If I were any closer, you’d be bent over the side of the pool already.”

I gasped. Heat pooled in my belly. I’d thought I was tapped out. Apparently I’d been mistaken.

But I knew my body couldn’t take much more and so, perhaps, it was a good thing he kept his distance. For now.

To distract myself, I ate from the tray. I smiled when I saw the small platter of steam cakes, decorated with blue-and-pink blooms, still hot as if Ludayn’s mother had just taken them from the clay oven herself. Another platter of herb-crusted meat, black in color, sat beside it. A compote of purple berries with mushed black seeds were spread over glistening, roasted brown roots. To top it off, there was a creamy custard, savory and warm and bright yellow like lemons from the Collis.

When I poured the tea into the garnet-colored crystal teacup, I saw the liquid was blue.

“Binding root,” Azur explained. “But I also had the keepers blend in marroswood.”

“Marroswood?” I asked, frowning, not recognizing the name.

Azur tilted his chin down. He’d kept the light in the bathing room low. Soothing. Steam curled between us, all around us, like we were in our own little world. The gentle golden glow from a nearby hovering orb light cast deep shadows across the wall.

“Getting you pregnant with my child is not an option,” he informed me.

Shock made me freeze.

Gods…I’d never even thought about that.

It was clear Azur had.

“Not for some time,” he finished softly. He nodded to the tea. “That will keep my seed from taking. If you choose to drink it,” he added quietly.

Because he realized he couldn’t force me to drink it?

“It’s not the right time for me to conceive,” I told him, flushing when I thought about the amount of come he’d spilled in me in the last day. Even still, I took a long sip from the cup, the hot tea soothing on my scratchy throat. “It would be my child too. I’m not ready for one either. Not yet.”

His shoulders noticeably relaxed as I drank, even though I felt a spark of annoyance.

The silence that followed was tense and lengthy. I was unsure why him slipping marroswood into my tea bothered me so much even when I knew it was the logical decision, even when I agreed with it.

“I’m still learning, Gemma,” he said quietly.

“Learning what?” I asked.

“Learning to be a husband,” he said, his voice gruff.

I stilled. The tea was soothing. A little bitter but nothing as unpleasant as baanye. The binding root would help with the soreness at the very least.

“I will misstep. I have already with you. Many, many times,” he told me, softening my ire. “This is new to me. In case you haven’t noticed, you are my only wife. Before, I have only taken lovers. Brief and short-lived affairs because I didn’t have time for anything else.”

The words hung between us like the steam floating in the air. I sighed.

“How many?” I asked, unable to deny my curiosity.

“Lovers?” he asked. When I nodded, he ran a hand over his face, his expression wary. “Enough.”

“Enough?” I repeated, my eyes widening, my spine straightening. “You won’t tell me how many?”

Azur blew out a short huff from his nostrils. “I might still be learning, but I’m no fool, wife. I’ve had enough lovers. Enough to know how to please a female.”

I rolled my eyes, snagging a steam cake off the tray.

“Were you not pleased?” he murmured, that silky voice floating toward me, no doubt trying to distract me. I wasn’t falling for it.

I couldn’t help but glare even as I munched on a huge mouthful of the decadent cake.

“I won’t be angry,” I told him. “It angers me that you won’t tell me. Just like with the marroswood, I know that it’s right. You made the right decision. But we can at least discuss it honestly beforehand. That’s all I want.”

Azur regarded me carefully.

“Two a year since I was fifteen,” he finally told me, his tone quiet, studying me. “Approximately.”

That was…that was likely around forty lovers. He had to be five years older than me, at least.

Forty to my one. If Petyr could have even been called that.

But I’d told him I wouldn’t be mad. Still, I hadn’t expected to feel disappointment sinking in my belly.

It made me feel…inconsequential, I supposed. Because surely, out of those forty females, he’d experienced days like these with them. Forty females who knew the way he groaned, who knew the prick of his fangs and the way he gritted his teeth when the sensitive membranes of his wings were stroked, making his hips buck faster, harder.

“Oh,” I said. Because that was all I could think to say. I’d asked for this.

“Gemma.”

“Hmm?”

I met his eyes, blinking back the sudden glassiness in my gaze and reaching to the tray for anything to shove into my mouth. I’d take a gallon of baanye right now if it meant I didn’t cry in front of him.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing,” I said softly after I swallowed the herb-crusted meat that tasted like ash on my tongue. “Thank you for telling me. That’s…that’s what I wanted.”

I’d thought we’d had pretty spectacular sex today. But maybe this was simply normal for him. Maybe it was nothing out of the ordinary. It wasn’t special to him like it had been to me. How could it be when I was so incredibly inexperienced next to him?

I heard the gentle whoosh of his wings and then the trickle of water as he approached me.

“It bothers you,” he murmured, drawing me into his arms. Pinning me in place even when I tried to turn away. “Why?”

I pressed my palm to his chest. Trying to push him away? But when I felt his warmth, his steady strength, my fingernails curled into him instead before I traced the line of his fresh scar between his pectorals.

“I didn’t think it would,” I told him truthfully. “I promise you that.”

“But it does.”

I swallowed. “Yes,” I whispered. “And now I feel so stupid for even pushing the subject.” I laughed. “Gods, how predictable.”

Azur frowned. “You have nothing to be jealous of.”

A muscle in my cheek jumped. “How can I not be? I’m feeling a little insignificant here.”

“Insignificant?” Azur repeated slowly. Now he was getting pissed. I could see it climbing, stiffening his spine, and sparking his eyes. “I didn’t marry any of them, now did I?”

“Our marriage was not a love match and you know it,” I replied, turning my face away, not at all pleased with how I was handling this. But my eyes were beginning to sting again. “Just forget it. Please. I don’t want to argue. Not after today. I’m sorry for pushing.”

Azur was quiet for a long time but he didn’t retreat. I stayed locked in his arms, red faced and tense.

“You’re my kyrana.”

I chanced a peek up at him. He’d called me that before.

“Do you know what that is?” he asked. He wasn’t glaring at me, like I’d expected. Instead, his expression was patient. Like we had all the time in the world.

“No,” I said softly.

“We don’t know why or how it happens,” he said quietly. “Whether it is by Raazos’s or Alaire’s or Gaara’s or Zor’s design. Or maybe none of them.”

“I don’t understand.”

“A kyrana is a blood mate,” Azur told me, his voice smooth and rich. “Whether it is by divine selection or science or magic or even fate, whatever you wish to call it, you are my blood mate.”