Page 38 of Hunger in His Blood (Brides of the Kylorr #3)

CHAPTER 38

KALDUR

T hat night, after I’d made sure that Erina ate a hearty dinner, I received word of a potential lyvin pack—again—along the outer villages. And so I left to meet with the soldiers I’d dispatched.

The village, ironically enough, was where Erina had grown up. Wrezaan’s abandoned orphanage lay on the outskirts, and I flew over it on my way to the edge of the forest.

It was mostly farmers in these outer villages, taking advantage of the sprawling fields and land that rippled outward. As such, they abutted the forests. Lyvins weren’t common in this area, but I feared that the construction of the South Road was pushing them inward toward the main towns instead of farther away. I’d received more and more reports of them in the last two months, encroaching on new territories and becoming aggressive when a villager strayed too close.

Luckily no one had been hurt yet, but I feared it was only a matter of time. And the villagers didn’t want protective fences along the forest’s edge—they thought it clashed too much with the natural beauty of their land.

That night, the lyvins were long gone by the time I reached the village, though I could still hear their hair-raising howls echo in the forest. I spoke with the soldiers briefly and ordered three of them to keep posted there through the night as a precaution.

Then I left. But as I flew over the orphanage, curiosity got the best of me, and I circled overhead before landing at the front entrance. It was an old manor-style house, dark in color with gray tinted windows.

I frowned, unable to imagine Erina here. When I went inside, the wood floors creaked under my weight. The choking layers of dust made my lungs squeeze tight, but I explored the old house, peering into the different rooms. It was smaller than I’d thought it’d be.

Stricter laws had been passed within the Kaalium for orphanages a decade before. Wrezaan’s hadn’t passed inspections and had been shut down, the remaining children sent to a newer one on the opposite side of Vyaan, one more closely regulated by the council.

I went upstairs, though some of the wood steps had disintegrated. They’d likely been old already when Erina had lived here, and knowing that only made that restlessness prowl in my body again.

In one of the back rooms, the largest of them, I saw dusty old cots lining both sides. A single window was at the far end of the room, one that would overlook the front of the house. The entirety of the room was cleared out except for the cots and a few mounds of what I thought might’ve been old, disintegrating clothes.

That was when I saw it.

A dirty painting, hanging precariously by a single nail in the wall, tilted haphazardly as if it used to hang by two.

The glass was covered in a thick smearing of dust, but I wiped it away with the back of my sleeve. Through the thin clearing I’d made, I saw a landscape. Of a pink sky and hills.

My heart twisted in my chest. I looked behind me, at the cot that lay across from it, and I went there. The quilt was thick, though coated with dust. The pillow was thin, and I imagined my kyrana lying here, her young eyes pinned on the painting across the way as she drifted to sleep.

I sat on the cot, my hands coming to my face, and rubbed at my eyes. Life had disappointed her. Over and over again. She’d remained hopeful and optimistic throughout it all…by her choice, I’d learned today. Knowingly.

It made her stronger than I’d ever realized.

Except…I might’ve been the one to have finally broken her.

No, I decided, my bleary gaze going back to the painting on the opposite wall. Not broken, just tilted.

I wanted to help put her right again. I wanted to help put the light back into her eyes because it had been dim since she’d returned from Laras. Did she even realize?

I didn’t know how long I stayed in the room, but eventually I stood, my bones aching. I was hungry—she’d been right. Weaker. I didn’t feel like myself.

Crossing to the opposite wall, I took the painting off the remaining nail. The wood frame nearly broke apart in my hands, but a plan formed. A gift I wanted to give Erina. Maybe it would spark her again. And I wanted nothing more than to ignite her, to bring her to life again.

With the painting firmly tucked against me, I left the decaying orphanage. It would rot here, consumed by the land. Perhaps I’d have it destroyed. Perhaps I’d build something new here in its stead. An art house. A creative retreat. A museum. She would like that. Perhaps I’d dedicate it in Erina’s name.

When I returned to the keep, I still felt restless and aching. It was a new kind of hellish punishment to have my mate so near and feel like I shouldn’t go to her.

I tucked the painting safely in a corner of my quarters. I would get it reframed and begin work on Erina’s gift in the morning. Even if it made her even a little delighted, it would be well worth it.

I bathed to try to calm my racing heart, but even in the warm pool I couldn’t relax.

I paced my quarters. I smoked some lore out on the balcony, hoping the icy chill would dull my wanting. Nothing did, however, and I should’ve known that by now.

She was so close I could practically scent her through the walls.

Eventually I gave in, wondering if she would turn me away. I strode from my room and went down one set of doors to her quarters. For a moment, I leaned my forehead against the door, listening to my ragged heart.

When I pushed it open, the room was dark. I went to her bedroom, and immediately her scent swarmed my senses. All around me, like an embrace. My shoulders relaxed. It was like the best lore I could buy.

Erina was sleeping. When I walked to the opposite side of the bed, I studied her, her expression softened in dreams, and beneath the heavy blankets, I saw the roundness of her belly.

Safe, I thought. My throat went tight as tears threatened to prick my eyes.

I slid into bed beside her. I didn’t want to wake her, but I wanted her in my arms, so it was inevitable.

She was startled awake though her eyelids were heavy. The only source of light was the silvery moon outside the balcony doors, and it crept over the blankets like crawling vines.

“Kaldur?” she asked, tone groggy.

She was warm and soft and smelled divine. My arm went beneath her head as I pulled her toward me. We’d never shared a bed together. We’d only used mine the night I’d gotten her pregnant—another sharp regret that panged through me. Not regret for our growing child, but merely the way it had happened. Another strike against me, another mistake I needed to make up for.

“What are you doing?” she whispered.

I thought of the orphanage and a little human girl with brown eyes and red hair, who’d stared at a painting and dreamed of everything .

Determination swelled.

“I told you I’m a selfish bastard,” I murmured, trying to fight back the damn tears that threatened to spill. So many regrets. How could I ever make amends? “Because this is how it’ll be between us, Erina. I know I don’t deserve you, not yet at least, but I can’t be without you anymore. You’re my kyrana . I will be in this bed when you fall asleep, and I will be here when you wake. I can’t stand to be parted any more than we already are.”

A shuddered breath fell from her lips as her dark eyes speared straight through me. They glittered in the moonlight. She was so damn warm and felt so right against me that I was convinced I could die happy right here.

“But if you tell me to leave, I’ll go. I swear to you,” I said. “And I won’t return to your bed until you invite me to it.”

Erina stared at me quietly, absorbing my words. And I waited for her verdict with bated breath, though my heart was pumping my blood furiously.

Her answer came when she turned into me. Hesitantly. Slowly, as if one small movement from me would sending her fleeing. She laid her head just below the crook of my arm, her face close to my side. Her hand came over my heart, and I know she felt the wildness of it, enveloped beneath the power of her palm.

As if she was a sorceress, she whispered, “Sleep.”

Relief made my eyes shut…only they never opened again. I felt our child between us, pressed against my hip, as my hand tangled in her hair, holding her close .

I did as she told me.

I slept that night.

It was the best damn sleep of my entire life.