Page 18 of Hunger in His Blood (Brides of the Kylorr #3)

CHAPTER 18

ERINA

T o help pass the time, I wrote two letters in the three days that Kaldur was gone.

One to Luc, again though I told him nothing of my new arrangement with the Kyzaire of Vyaan. The other letter was to Syndras, asking her if I could visit soon. She was particular about her schedule, and while I knew she would welcome me any time in her House, I didn’t want to impose unnecessarily. I had a lot of time these days, and I couldn’t spend it all within the gardens.

On the third night, I was eagerly awaiting Kaldur’s return, overhearing Maudoric tell one of the keepers that she’d received word he was on his way back home. I was freshly bathed, made sure to take my baanye , and put on my nicest dress, one of light material that was open at the neck. I worried though, especially when rain began to pelt against the windows, thick drops that never seemed to cease.

And then I waited in my quarters. I took to reading to pass the time and to calm my nerves, having borrowed a few books from the library. I’d tried to use the Halo orb to project the landscapes from the book Kaldur had showed me, but I couldn’t figure out how. I mentally reminded myself to ask him when we had a spare moment.

Mostly, I was nervous about our reunion. About what mood he might be in. Our parting had felt so cold and strange. But I’d reasoned that whatever had called him away to Salaire must’ve been on his mind. I had no idea of the stresses and obligations that rested on a Kyzaire ’s shoulders. I couldn’t even begin to fathom it, so I endeavored to put that last interaction out of my mind. To start new again, like a fresh dawn.

Peering outside my window at the bright moon, my breath hitched when I saw a familiar figure illuminated in the rainy night sky. It was late, and he’d returned. I felt relief when I saw him land on his balcony and enter his rooms.

Only, an hour or so ticked by and Kaldur never came.

Taking a deep breath, I ventured out of room. Perhaps he thought I wasn’t awake. Perhaps he didn’t want to disturb me, but he must’ve seen that I’d kept my light on.

Even though I’d never been so bold, I went slowly to his door and swallowed hard before I knocked. I thought he would be able to hear my thumping heart even though the thick wood of his door.

It didn’t take long before he answered.

His expression was unreadable when he wordlessly stepped back to allow me to enter. His room was familiar—he’d brought me here after the first feeding, after all. But the male in front of me felt like a stranger.

He closed the door, and when I turned, I saw him resting his forehead briefly on the wood, as if composing himself.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Stop asking me that,” he growled.

Bad mood, then, I thought, biting my lip.

Finally, he turned. He was freshly bathed and dressed in loose pants and a dark blue tunic that molded to his chest. His feet were bare, his wings stretched. Even comfortable, he looked perfectly refined and presentable should a noble drop by at such a late hour.

Brushing past me, he went to a glittering bottle of amber liquid resting on a lacquered black sideboard, unstoppering the cap before pouring it into a crystal tumbler. From working in wealthy Houses before, I knew it was a potent liquor, imported from some planet I didn’t bother to remember, and it often flowed at parties, coupled with the silver smoke of lore .

As if he read my mind, he informed me, without turning, “I was about to smoke, so you shouldn’t be here.”

Humans were particularly sensitive to lore smoke. In most of my kind, unless you took a tonic called tassa to counter the effects, the smoke was an aphrodisiac, eliciting a physical response.

For Kylorr, lore was calming.

Kaldur turned to me with his brow raised, as if questioning why I still lingered. He took a sip of his liquor, watching me over the rim.

“Do you not need to feed?” I asked. “It’s been days.”

He smiled, opening a smooth, hidden drawer at the front of the sideboard console. “You take your position as blood giver very seriously, Erina. You must wonder how I ever survived without you all these years.”

I couldn’t help but bite the inside of my cheek. He was still in his strange mood, even after three days. I’d thought…maybe it had just been a bad moment for him. I’d thought that maybe he’d even started to enjoy my company, to like me. Every time I’d caught him looking at me with a molten gaze, it had made me shiver. Every secretive little smirk had made my heart soar because they’d been for me . Mine alone.

Watching as he pulled out a slim, silver pipe from the velvet-lined drawer and a metal tin, I asked, “Does that mean you took a blood giver in Salaire? ”

He’d said he wouldn’t. While it hadn’t quite been a promise, it had been implied, hadn’t it?

Kaldur released a long, sharp breath. My heart thudded, waiting to be fissured with jealousy.

But then he admitted, “No, I did not.”

I heard the honesty in those words. It was almost like he’d wanted to lie to me but then couldn’t.

Relief made my shoulders sag. Elation rose in my breast, and I approached him, eyeing the stretch of his shoulders. He must’ve been tired, but there was a restlessness about him. He was fidgeting with the pipe, unclasping the tin, and stuffing lore into it. Though…I swore his fingers were unsteady. The lore was crumbling beneath his touch.

He needed to relax…so then why did he not relax with me?

I touched his bare forearm, feeling the warmth and tantalizing heat of him. I was no seductress, but I thought I could be considering how much I desired him.

“Let me,” I said quietly. I’d served at one party before, one in which I’d taken tassa , and I remembered how to do it.

Kaldur allowed me to pluck the pipe from his hands, and I packed it with the dried leaves carefully. He sipped his liquor, blowing out a sharp breath, the tension pouring off him in waves.

The lore will help calm him, and then maybe we can talk, I told myself.

But was I really planning to stay while he smoked?

In the end, I decided it didn’t matter. Whether it was with lore smoke or through his inevitable feeding, he always sparked desire in me. I’d come apart in his arms, his fangs deep in my neck, too many times, even the times when I’d tried not to.

When I handed him the pipe and flicked on the igniter, making the leaf burn inside, he stared down at me, realizing that that was my answer.

“Very well, dallia ,” he said, taking the pipe and bringing the end to his lips. “Your choice. ”

“It is,” I agreed, meeting his eyes.

The blue end of the igniter flared even brighter when Kaldur inhaled, his cheeks hollowing. A moment later, he exhaled the smoke, thick and spiced, like the tea from the village.

It curled into my nostrils and down my throat, making me gasp.

The effects didn’t take long, and I figured they were even quicker to come on because Kaldur’s intense gaze never left me. As if he was fascinated by my reaction, as if he wanted to see every little change in me.

Desire began to bloom. Deep in my belly, the heat winding and spiraling tight. Then it loosened and stretched itself, spreading, spreading, especially when Kaldur exhaled another draw of smoke. I’d never felt the effects personally, having always taken tassa , but I wondered how much more intense it would get. I’d heard stories…

The rain was loud against the glass windows, pelting down mercilessly, but my heartbeat soon drowned it out. I felt overly flushed and warm and yet my nipples tightened to hardened peaks. He was so close that his chest brushed my arm whenever he breathed, and I…I wanted him to touch me everywhere.

I placed my hand on the sideboard, feeling the smooth, cool wood beneath my palm. Kaldur took another sip of his drink, and then he handed it to me, brushing past me to sit in the plush and padded armchair by the fire. Kylorr chairs always had straight vertical backs, thin along the spine, to allow for their wings to rest comfortably behind them. I watched as Kaldur’s wings relaxed, one arm rested along the leather, as he looked into the fire. His drink was as much of an invitation as any, I figured.

The tumbler was cool in my hand, and I pressed it to one cheek. This felt different tonight. It felt…certain. There was a strange energy about Kaldur, one both resigned, restless, and accepting. There was a pinching intensity to him, like he was a bl ade’s edge away from snapping. And in me…well, I still wanted what I’d wanted in the courtyard three days ago.

To feel close to him when he felt so incredibly distant already.

I wanted that night in the library again. When his walls were down, his mask off. I wanted to see him . Who he truly was. I wanted that Kaldur.

With the lore pulsing through my body, I took a sip from his glass. The burn of the liquor nearly made me cough, but I swallowed it down. It mingled with the lore beautifully, allowing it to stretch even further through my body. I turned to Kaldur.

The lore was beginning to make me ache.

I stopped in front of him. His eyes traced over me, and I nearly shivered, as if I were naked and he could see all of me. Those eyes started at my bare feet, traced up my legs, over the curve of my hips, the dip of my waist. They settled on my breasts, eyeing my peaked nipples, and he took a drag on his pipe as he studied them, making me squeeze my thighs. Then they flicked up to my face, just in time to catch me lick my dry lips.

There was something erotic in his casual perusal. Like I was his to do with whatever he pleased, to look at at his leisure.

“I don’t think you know what you’re doing, Erina,” he finally said, his voice dark and guttural. He’d flown all this way in a storm, and his mood reflected that.

I took another sip of his liquor in defiance, feeling a thrill go through me when I caught his gruff grunt.

“You’ve been in a very strange mood since you left that night for your party,” I told him. I approached. Kaldur’s eyes flicked from my lips to my hips.

And then I watched them burn when I brought a knee up, sliding it into the empty space between his outer thigh and the leather of the armchair. I sunk and then slid my other leg up.

I had the oddest impression that Kaldur was focusing on his breath. One breath into the next, slowly and deeply, when he looked between us. I was seated in his lap now, the hot strength of his body beneath me. I didn’t know where I’d gotten the courage. I’d seen a female do this one—to her lover at a party Syndras had once thrown. I’d accidentally stumbled upon them when I’d gone to fetch Syndras her favorite lore from the study, and there they’d been.

The female’s lover had certainly seemed to appreciate it, and in my limited experience, even I could see that Kaldur reacted just the same.

I pressed the rim of the tumbler to his lips, and his nostrils flared as I tipped it back. His throat bobbed with the small swallow. Then I placed the tumbler on the small circular table next to the chair. Out of the way but within easy reach.

“Are you trying to seduce me, dallia ?” he murmured softly, the edges of his lips curling in an almost sardonic smile. “Or are you just very sensitive to the lore ?”

Still prickly, I thought, but I let the words roll off me, not allowing them to stick.

“I wonder how much you can take before it becomes too overwhelming,” he said before inhaling on his pipe.

My eyelids fluttered when he blew out another stream and it floated around us. I bit my bottom lip, my hips beginning to move of their own accord on top of him.

“Kaldur,” I breathed. “ Please. ”