Page 9 of Hunger in His Blood (Brides of the Kylorr #3)

CHAPTER 9

ERINA

T he arched stone entrance to Kaldur’s gardens was like a doorway into another realm.

I’d seen the top of the garden from the upper windows of the keep, but beyond the slight admiration I’d felt, I hadn’t given much thought to it. But now? This was like something out of a dream.

The contract was still clasped in my hand, but I nearly dropped it in my haste to reach for my notebook. I forced myself to still my movement, however. Enjoy this moment, I thought. If Kaldur insisted I stop my work at the keep, I would have all the time in the world to enjoy this place. To sketch every hidden nook and cranny. And conjure up more adventures for Kavelyn, inspired by this exciting beauty.

The garden was both manicured and wild. Tamed and yet free. There was a cobbled path that swirled and wound its way through the different sections. Some of the pathway broke off to make circular planters around blackwood trees, their gnarled, whimsical branches a haphazard display. Whitebell flowers were planted at their base, their green roots climbing up the wide trunks like they were trying to embrace it .

As I ventured deeper, the world melted away. All I heard was a muted breeze and the sound of singing insects and the soft pad of my worn boots on the stone path. I discovered an alcove, decorated with a circular stone bench that surrounded what looked like a zylarr , though it was empty. Around the bench were blue shrubs I’d never seen before, peppered with pink-and-purple flowers.

A short while later, I discovered a section of plants and blooms that made a mosaic of the night sky. The white flowers dotted throughout the black leaves of the plants were like stars in the sky. I really had to resist the urge to sketch it, since I was eager to explore every pathway I could. With the vastness of the garden, I wondered if I’d be able to accomplish my mission by the evening.

But as the sun steadily rose in the sky and the chill in the air began to warm, I traced and tracked over every winding pathway I could find, even the ones that weren’t marked by the cobblestones. Some were dirt pathways, leading to trees hidden from view, a nice quiet, shaded place to relax.

When I reached the middle of the gardens, I saw that it was marked by another arched stone entrance. Eagerly, I hurried to it, skimming the stone with my fingertips as my lips parted at what I found inside.

It was a courtyard, surrounded by tall dark green shrubs, all perfectly trimmed and neat, and nearly twice as tall as me. In the center of the courtyard was a large garden of starwood blooms. The indigo-colored flower looked lighter in the bright sunlight, and the small white specks in the center looked like stars. I’d never seen one in person before, had only ever seen illustrations. And as I crept closer, I touched one delicate bloom, the petal like velvet.

Starwood blooms were climbing flowers, growing wild. There were trellises staked into the earth, and they were climbing up them toward the sky. A few vines had grown outward, crawling along the cobblestones and winding their way into the surrounding shrubs, like they were melting into them.

I now understood why Kaldur employed so many horticulturists. Taking care of a garden like this was no easy feat. It would take a small army.

Surrounding the starwood blooms, tucked into carved out spaces nearest the tall shrubs, were simple benches. The sun was high overhead now. I wondered how long I’d been exploring the gardens. But judging from the way my belly rumbled, it had been at least a few hours since breakfast.

It was difficult to tear my gaze away from the beauty and wildness of the starwoods, but eventually I pulled at the ribbon and broke the wax seal of the contract Kaldur had given me. With a deep breath, I began to read.

When I was done, I sat back. The shrub hedges were sturdy enough to hold my weight. I stared down at the words, printed by a Halo orb laser, judging by the neatness and the color of the deep blue ink.

It was everything we’d already spoken about. I was to be his sole blood giver. The feedings would take place at his discretion and not more than twice per day. I would regularly take baanye , a sludgy tea, to keep up my strength, and if a sexual relationship began from the feedings, I would need to take marroswood to prevent pregnancy.

My face flushed hot when I read that, but I supposed it was normal.

I was to be paid ten vron every month—ten thousand credits. That was an amount that was unfathomable to me. While the Kyzaire paid his keepers better than any other House I’d ever worked for, ten vron was still more than I made in three months. And to think I was to be paid every month…and all I had to do was be his blood giver. Free to spend my days as I wanted—right here in the garden if I wished, drawing, writing, dreaming .

It was almost too good to be true.

In addition to the ten vron every month, I would be moved to the South Wing, Kaldur’s own private wing of the keep. I wasn’t even allowed to clean in that wing of the house. Only a handful of keepers that Maudoric trusted were assigned there regularly. I would have my own private rooms there.

A straightforward agreement. No frills. To the point. I gave him what he wanted, he paid me and kept me comfortable.

I felt that familiar feeling of disappointment bloom. I’d managed to catch the attention of the male I’d been pining over for the last two years…and while it felt exciting, it also felt emptier and colder than I’d imagined.

Maybe it’s just nerves, I reasoned. This was new. And a part of me couldn’t help but lament that I was below Kaldur’s station in life. He couldn’t be happy about that. Maybe that was why he’d insisted I not work in the keep. Because if I didn’t, then I wouldn’t be merely his keeper any longer. I would only be his blood giver, an automatic ascent in status.

That stung to think, but I also knew it was a harsh reality of this world, of which I’d always been on the bottom rung. While I’d dreamed of it, I knew that I had no true chance with someone like Kaldur. It felt surreal that this was even happening. To me .

There was space for me to sign at the bottom, next to where he would sign. I rolled up the contract to prevent me from reading it over for the fifth time. Then I sat, my gaze flitting over the starwood blooms, tracing their shapes, thinking of different pencil colors I could layer to make their unique shade in my sketchbook.

Carefully, I set the contract on the bench beside me. I took out my sketchbook. And, if only to distract myself from what the night would bring, I began to draw.

The rhythmic sound in the sky made me frown, and I blinked up into startling darkness. My shoulders felt tight, and my fingers and the sides of my palms were smeared in charcoal. My eyes felt strained, of peering down at the pages of my notebook in steadily sinking light.

But I felt good .

I’d realized the passing of time slowly. A stray notice before I’d dived straight back into my work. In the late afternoon, my stomach had finally protested too much, but I’d been loath to return to the keep, loath to leave this beautiful, wild place and return to Velle’s demanding questions and Maudoric’s assessing stare.

Much to my delight, I’d found a ripened bluestone-fruit tree, growing in what I’d classified “the Orchard.” Most of the trees were out of season, but bluestones grew best when the temperature was dropping toward winter, and I’d harvested a few to keep my energy steady. The tanginess of the fruit had made my lips pucker, but the small, crunchy seeds inside were sweet and I couldn’t help but think they would bake beautifully into bread. Saira had never used them in her dishes, at least none that I could remember. I hoped I’d been allowed to harvest them.

That rhythmic sound grew louder and louder, approaching my position on the bench I’d reclaimed in the shielded starwood bloom courtyard. I’d posted up at different places throughout the day, to draw and jot down inspirations for scenes for my stories, but when the sun had set, I’d returned here. The stamens in starwood blooms were rumored to sparkle in moonlight. I’d wanted to see if that was true, to see it for myself because I thought it must be a magical, breathtaking sight.

I spied the stretch of wings, dark and fearsome, in the sky as a Kylorr circled above. Then they were circling down. Closer and closer to me, going almost too fast.

I gasped when they landed on the cobblestone, a short distance away but close enough that the impact sent a ripple of powerful energy outward. It whooshed back the annoying tendrils of my hair that wouldn’t stay tucked away in my haphazard bun.

The Kylorr straightened to his full height.

“Oh,” I breathed. “ Kyzaire .”

“Where have you been?” Kaldur demanded, his voice low and guttural as he strode toward me. “No one could find you.”

He looked…angry? But why?

“In—in here,” I stammered, waving my hand in the garden.

That made him pause. “Since this morning?”

“Yes,” I replied, standing uncertainly, my notebook hanging loose in my palm, and I heard something clatter to the stone. One of my pencils rolled toward Kaldur, the tip breaking off from the impact. I’d worn it down to nothing today, using a rock to keep it sharp.

Kaldur crouched and swept up the pencil. He inspected it, and then his eyes went to the notebook. I flipped it closed, quickly, wrapping the long cord around to keep it secure.

“You said I could explore the gardens,” I said swiftly, relieved when his gaze finally returned to mine. The pencil was laughably small pinched between his fingers. “It’s beautiful in here. I haven’t left. I, um, hope you don’t mind. I stole a few fruit from the Orchard for lunch.”

Kaldur still said nothing. His silver eyes were pinned to me, only an arm’s length of space between us. I realized I must’ve looked a mess, and he looked just as fresh and put together as he had this morning. I wiped at my cheeks, wondering if I had charcoal smeared there. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“You just made it worse,” he informed me. When my brow furrowed in confusion, he stepped forward. I stilled when his warm hand came to my cheek, as the firm swipe of his thumb wiped away what was smudged there. “There. ”

“Thank you,” I said, giving him a shaky smile. The muscles in his jaw clenched, his eyes on my lips. Then he looked up, plucking a pencil that I had stabbed through the mess of my hair, piled at my crown, in an attempt to keep it pinned up and out of my face as I worked.

The mass fell down. I watched his eyes flare, his nostrils widen. A shuddered breath fell from him, the small exhale surprising me.

“How is it,” he began, his voice low and smooth, “that you smell even better than I remember?”

I felt those words swell in my breast. My nipples tightened under my uniform and apron.

“Look at you, zendra ,” he murmured, those eyes rapt on me. “No, not a zendra . Like this, you’re a dallia .”

That word jolted me.

A bubble of uncertain, soft laughter escaped me. “A walking tree ?”

“Yes. Wild and untethered, their roots always pushing above the ground. And you know why? Because they are alive and curious creatures. They will not be bound to the confines of one place.”

I sobered, though his words struck a chord that thrummed within me.

“Given that you just spent the day in my gardens, I thought the comparison would be a compliment to you,” Kaldur added, his lips finally quirking up in a small, amused grin. Back to his charm, smoothing over the lines of his previous anger.

“It is quite the compliment,” I told him. “There was a story I loved when I was young about a dallia tree named Kir. And Kir made a friend in a village boy, and they went on all sorts of adventures together across the countryside and through forests.”

Kaldur’s grin reached his eyes, and I realized, in a sudden jolt, that his smile was hardly ever genuine. Not truly. But this one was, and it filled me with a sense of victory. It was a beautiful smile.

“Yes, the fable from Salaire,” Kaldur said. His smile waned. “But that story has a sad ending. Not many like it. I’m surprised you do.”

“I never like to read that ending,” I confessed to him. “I always made up my own when I told it. And in mine, I like to believe that the boy grew too old to go on any more adventures. And that Kir loved him too much to leave, so he planted his wild roots deeply near the home the boy chose so they could always be close as they aged.”

Kaldur had drawn closer. “That is a nicer ending. Though the point of that fable was to teach that loss and change is a natural, important part of life.”

I looked down at our booted feet, close together. One pair scuffed, one pair pristine. “And they will both feel it eventually, even in my ending. The boy will die. Kir will wither with time because even trees aren’t immortal. Why not enjoy their happiness while they can? I think that’s a better lesson, especially for children.”

“I can’t argue with that,” Kaldur replied, capturing my chin to tilt my face back up to his. He was peering at me carefully. I got the strange sense he was trying to understand me. Like I was something to be puzzled out.

“Do you have any dallia trees in your garden?” I wondered, feeling my heart quicken at his nearness.

Kaldur made a chuffing sound in the back of his throat. “Even if I did, do you think they would stay for long?”

“No, I suppose not. But if I were one, I would happily spend my life in this garden.”

“What were you doing in here all day?”

“Drawing. Exploring,” I answered, tucking my notebook into my apron pocket, a movement that didn’t go unnoticed by Kaldur. “I’d never been in here before. And now I’m lamenting that I’ve wasted two years never stepping foot inside.”

Kaldur glanced around the courtyard, and I caught his stray expression. One that struck me as sad, though in the next moment, it had vanished.

“And did you do what I asked? Have you read over the contract?” he asked next.

Oh. Back to the pressing business at hand.

I swallowed. “Yes.”

“And?”

“We’re in agreement,” I replied, after a deep breath. “I’m ready to sign.”

Kaldur’s gaze slid to the side, into the leaves of the hedge, unseeing. He took a deep breath, his lips pressing together. I noticed his left wing raised slightly. For a moment, he looked…resigned? A warning went through me again. Tread carefully, Luc would tell me.

I frowned, my lips parting to ask a question I didn’t even know if I could voice.

But in the next moment, Kaldur pulled a silver dagger from a hidden sheath in his vest. Seeing it jolted my heart. The handle was alabaster white, and a swirling silver pattern was etched into it.

“Where’s the contract?” he asked.

I stared at the dagger only a moment more before I pulled the parchment from my other apron pocket. It was slightly flattened and crushed in, but I handed it to him, the ribbon imbedded in the wax seal caressing my palm.

Kaldur walked over to the pedestal nestled inside the tangle of starwood blooms, and I followed. He carefully maneuvered over the vines, which had overtaken the stone pathway I hadn’t realized was there.

Not a pedestal, I saw. A moon dial, powered by a Halo orb slotted into the base .

But the surface was flat, and Kaldur spread out the contract, the parchment heavy enough that it lay flat, like cloth.

He didn’t look at me as he cut his palm, a sharp whistle of a dagger. I watched a bead of black blood rise. Then he used my pencil of all things to dip into the wound like it was an ink pot.

In a flash, he scribbled out his signature, practiced and lacking any decorative flourish. It was neat but bold. I stared.

A deep sharp exhale left his lips, and then he turned to me, rolling the tip of the pencil between the pad of his thumb and forefinger to wipe off the remaining blood. He handed it to me.

His eyes were too silver in moonlight. So much light. I frowned but then realized why. The starwood patch had grown bright, and I realized, belatedly, that the blooms had begun to sparkle and shimmer. My eyes caught on one, nearest me. The stamens and the little dots of white on the petal were sparkling slowly, a undulating wave of light that grew dim and then brightened.

Beautiful, I thought as I took the familiar pencil from his grip.

“Are you ready?” he asked, the dagger loose in his grip of his uncut hand. “I’ll heal the wound after. Any discomfort will be brief.”

Heal the wound?

He thought I was afraid of a little cut?

As if I was out of my own body, I watched myself hold out my nondominant hand. His touch was warm and gentle, but the hiss of his blade felt like a searing pinch.

Kaldur’s lips parted, his fangs immediately elongating when the line reddened. I got the sense he was holding his breath. His chest didn’t rise and fall. I stepped forward and copied his movement, dipping my pencil into my blood—the most macabre ink I’d ever used—and signed my name.

Erina Denoren .

I’d never had much need to practice my signature. It was a messy scribble against his. Though I took pride in my illustrations and sketches, my handwriting was abysmal. If anyone ever came across my notebook and flipped it open in hopes to read some of my chapters, they’d likely be unable to.

I stared at my last name. A made-up one. A fake one. I had no true last name, only the one I shared with Luc and the character we’d created. A childish fantasy that followed and lingered with me throughout my life.

It’s done, I thought, staring down at the signature. Just as he said, he healed the wound on my hand, smearing a thin line of his blood across my palm. The stinging stopped.

There was a mixture of wariness and mingled excitement as I looked up at Kaldur. Moonlight speared itself over the contract, and the twinkle of the starwood blooms illuminated his face. I looked at his fangs but didn’t feel fear. Only uncertainty of what would become of this.

“When…when do you want to?—”

“Now,” he said, his voice low and dark, bordering on unfamiliar. “I’ll confess I can’t wait any longer.”

Now?

My heart immediately sped, my breath coming out in a shuddered gasp. This was happening tonight .

“Have you ever been fed from before?” he asked, his eyes pinned on me, taking my hand to draw me closer.

“N-No,” I breathed. I heard something clatter at my feet. The pencil. Already forgotten.

He dragged me even closer, until our bodies were pressed together. He was so big, so much taller than me that he stooped as his head lowered.

“I’ll heal the wound after,” he said again. I felt his hot breath against my neck.

“I’m not afraid of that,” I told him, my voice sounding like a whisper, fluttering and feathery.

“I don’t know what it will be like, Erina,” he said next.

I didn’t know what he meant. He’d fed from countless beings before, hadn’t he? Shouldn’t he know what it was like? Maybe he meant for me , since this was my first time.

He inhaled deeply, taking my scent deep into his lungs. The sound of it made me tingle.

“ Raazos, ” he cursed, his grip on me tightening. His tone grew desperate. “I can’t fight this—I can’t… I need you.”

The feel of his lips brushing over my neck sent a shiver racing up my spine. A shiver that raced to meet his lips. It felt more intimate than I thought it would. The feel of his warm, hard body. The way his large hands wrapped around me, one sliding into my hair to keep me steady, the other winding around my waist until it spread across my entire back.

I felt something cool drag across my neck. His fangs, I realized, my eyes widening.

His ragged groan vibrated across the pulsing vein there.

The sharp prick of his bite registered in the next moment. I nearly cried out at the unfamiliar sensation, a ragged sound falling from my lips.

There was pain, though it was brief and oddly not unpleasant. There was a pulling feeling, dragging. I felt a bloom of heat begin to spread from what I thought were his fangs, lodged deep into the side of my neck.

An ache began. Deep and languid at first. It felt nice . Comforting like an embrace.

But then it started to become more demanding. More punishing.

My eyes widened when I realized what it was, just as I heard a rough groan ripped from Kaldur’s throat, strumming across his bite.

I moaned. My hands came up to grip his shoulders tight, squeezing into the material, holding on for dear life as the intensity of pleasure began to rise. I felt every sucking pull between my thighs. Heat spread like spilling ink, until I was holding my breath with it, both desperate and frightened for more .

“Kaldur,” I gasped out, not realizing I’d used his name instead of his title until it was too late. And by then, I didn’t care, another wave of ecstasy erasing all memory of it.

His grip on me tightened.

And I never wanted to leave the confines of his arms.