Page 6 of Hunger in His Blood (Brides of the Kylorr #3)

CHAPTER 6

ERINA

T here was utter silence in the Kyzaire ’s study, save for a howling gust of wind that rattled the arched window outside. Even the fire in the hearth was silent, as if waiting for my answer.

This was everything I’d wanted, wasn’t it? For Kaldur to finally take notice of me. I’d imagined a gentle courtship in my more fanciful daydreams, of walks in the garden at midnight, of stolen kisses in the shadowy stairwells of his keep, of teasing grins and romantic yearning and pinching longing.

That was how I’d always imagined falling in love might be like. Maybe it felt a little like madness—but at least you would know there was a safe place to land.

Instead, this felt…slightly disappointing. Cold. Like we were negotiating a contract, which I supposed we were.

I felt this even as I tried to hide my trembling from being near him. Even as I memorized and studied every sharp angle and beautiful slope of his features, as I saw myself reflected in those mirrored eyes. They were like zylarrs —I’d been right. But instead of lost souls feeding from them during the moon winds, I felt like I was ravenous for them. Ravenous to keep them on me, always. When he looked away, I felt like I’d been severed in two.

I licked my dry lips, shivering a little when a droplet from my hair ran down the nape of my neck.

“You’re…you’re asking me to be your mistress.”

I didn’t know where the bold words came from, but I found them tumbling from me.

“That you feed from,” I clarified.

The idea filled me with intense and eager curiosity. I could endeavor to ignore my disappointment. Perhaps this was how things like this were done with Kyzaires . In quiet studies, in quiet negotiations, on quiet nights.

I thought of the scene I’d walked in on earlier, with him and his other mistress, and I couldn’t help but flinch a little. Couldn’t help but feel the burn of dismay and despair.

Kaldur’s tone was crisp when he said, “To be clear, I don’t like that word. Mistress . It implies too much or too little. In my experience, there are long-term lovers or fleeting bed partners, and yet that word is meant to encompass them all. You would be more, Erina.”

More?

Hope sprung in my chest, a little trickle.

“Really?” I asked.

He seemed to catch himself. He frowned. “A blood giver is a responsibility in itself. A blood giver is respected, especially one who gives to a Kyzaire . I do not ask this of you lightly and certainly not on a whim.”

He was so certain. That caught me off guard because I wondered why . Before today, I hadn’t even known he couldn’t stand the mere smell of me. Now? After a whiff of my blood, he was offering me… everything . Everything a poor, unwanted orphan girl could have ever dreamed of. A home. Stability. Status.

But what about love? Marriage? Children?

Don’t get too deeply in your head, I reminded myself, though the words held the teasing edge of Luc’s voice. He’d always been the one to keep me more grounded in my daydreams, hadn’t he? Even though he was a dreamer himself, he always said I could out-dream the entire population of Krynn.

This was a negotiation after all, not a love proposal.

But…maybe with time, he will fall in love with me too, I couldn’t help but hope.

Some people would call me a naive fool. Perhaps I was. But I also knew that there were three things I wanted in this life. To fall deeply in love and make a family of my own. To see Luc again. And to finish my series of stories so that one day, I might read them to my own children.

I wanted to love someone. I was desperate to. I felt I had so much love to give, if only someone would give me the chance.

I’d told Velle that once. She’d laughed. I could still hear her response running in my head: Don’t be so pathetic, Erina. These nobles can smell desperation. If you want to find a wealthy husband, you have to play the game well.

But I didn’t think love was a game. I thought it was the purest form of everything good in this life. What was so wrong about wanting to share that with someone? I didn’t care about money. I only cared if someone had a good heart.

Staring at Kaldur, I wondered about his heart.

“If I agree to it,” I began softly, “I would still wish to work in the keep. In some capacity.”

“Out of the question,” Kaldur said, his tone an easy dismissal. He was used to giving orders, to being obeyed.

“The other keepers will talk,” I argued. I’d often listened to gossip at the lunch table. I didn’t want to be the next subject on their list, to be laughed at.

“They’ll talk regardless,” Kaldur said. “What they think of you should not matter anymore.”

“I care about what they think. Some are my friends.”

“Ah, but if they wag their tongues behind your back, are they truly your friends?” Kaldur asked, spearing me with a hardened look that had me biting my lip. “Being a blood giver is more tiring than you might think. I don’t want you working in the keep. I know how hard my keepers work. You need the rest between feedings. I’m selfish, Erina, because I don’t want you exhausted—I’ll taste it.” I jerked at the admission. “You will be well compensated, I assure you. You will have all the time you want. To mix together your different colors and admire pretty vases in the village that you can actually purchase for yourself.”

Time . Time…to work on my stories? Without the fear of Maudoric lingering around corners. Velle would no longer have a reason to be angry with me.

Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

For some reason, Velle’s words wouldn’t stop flowing through my mind. That males like Kaldur would smell how badly I wanted them. That I might have to play a game I knew nothing about if I wanted a chance with him. Something I’d only ever dreamed about…

It was on the tip of my tongue to say yes. To agree to it right then and there. To follow my heart instead of my head. Syndras had always teased that my heart would be my ruin.

“Can I let you know my decision tomorrow, Kyzaire ?” I asked instead.

A good night’s sleep—if sleep would come after this—would make everything clear. It always did.

A subtle expression flashed over his face. I’d surprised him, I realized, feeling a small bloom of what felt like victory. Because for someone like the High Lord of Vyaan, I figured he wasn’t surprised quite so often.

He took another step toward me—when he’d already been so close. He was standing at my side, and I had to turn my head to regard him. I held my breath as those eyes skimmed over me, starting at my hair, traveling down my face, down my neck.

One hand reached out. He swiped another droplet that had gathered at the nape of my neck, just beginning to run down. I gasped, a small little sound I wished I could take back. His thumb was searingly hot, and the gentle swipe of his calloused finger created odd sensations skittering down my spine. I shivered. I wanted to sink into that touch. I felt the pound of my heart triple, and I smelled the heat of his nearness, going dizzy with it.

My hair was tumbling down from its bun after a quick slide of his hand through the ribbon. I could smell the bloom of the soap I’d used during my bath drift up. I heard the sharp inhale, the quick catch of his own breath, and it made me jerk my head over to regard him. Was he as affected by this as I was?

By whatever this was?

The room felt too hot, but my feet were rooted into place. Would I burn to a crisp there if I couldn’t move? He was looking at me— really looking at me—and I was pinned in place, like a flower being catalogued and studied, every tucked, hidden petal unfurled for his perusal.

Kaldur’s head moved forward, and I sucked in a small breath. His nose lowered until I could just feel his heated exhale over my exposed neck.

His voice was guttural and low when he said, “Never hide your true scent from me again, Erina.”

My lips parted, a flood of surprising heat rising at the words, at the strange and surprisingly intimacy of this moment.

“That perfume? Get rid of it.”

I didn’t know what was happening. All I knew was that my heart was trying to beat its way out of its cage and I wanted to stay there all night with his voice in my ear.

“Take some time to think about my offer,” he said, his voice softening. He backed away, and I felt like all the air came rushing in. My knees wobbled, but I was pleased when I managed to keep from swaying where I stood. He added, softly, “But don’t take too long. ”

Instead of those words feeling like a threat, they sounded like a gruff plea.

“Go,” he said. He turned from me, heading toward the arched window. “Before I do something I regret.”

I didn’t think twice. There was no mistaking the warning in his voice then. Even though every part of me wanted to stay, I heeded the words and fled.