CHAPTER 157: BED MATTERS

After they headed back to the main room in Zyren’s wing, the tension between them refused to lift. Aira was expecting Zyren to leave, as he usually did. His pattern was predictable—command, provoke, control, and then vanish into whatever dark corners he liked to roam. But tonight, something was different. He didn’t leave. Instead, his steps moved farther into the room, slow and unhurried, before shifting toward the bed like it was the most natural place in the world to be.

Aira felt her body tense immediately. Her breath hitched in her throat as she turned slightly, watching him from the corner of her eye. The massive bed loomed in the center of the chamber like a trap. Even though she was exhausted—mentally, emotionally, physically—she still hesitated. Her limbs didn’t want to obey. Every fiber of her being screamed not to lie in that bed, not again.

But eventually, she moved. Slow, hesitant steps carried her forward. She lay on it like someone surrendering to a nightmare, her body sinking into the soft plush surface but her soul tightening like a knot. She lay right at the edge, deliberately choosing the farthest point, so close to falling off that the slightest shift might send her tumbling. Her back was turned firmly toward the rest of the bed, and more importantly, toward Zyren.

She could hear the soft shift of fabric. The movement of weight on the mattress. She didn’t have to look to know that Zyren had gotten onto the bed with her. He made no effort to hide it. No attempt at subtlety. But he didn’t say a word either. For a long while, there was nothing but silence. Heavy, suffocating silence. Aira’s fingers clenched into the sheets beneath her.

She squeezed her eyes shut tighter, willing herself to sleep. But it didn’t come. How could it? The heat she had felt earlier when speaking with King Jared still clung to her skin like a second layer. She could still feel the strange warmth that had pooled in her lower belly. That spark—confusing, unwanted, shameful—hadn’t left. She did all she could to ignore it. She tried to pretend she didn’t feel his presence beside her. That the air hadn’t thickened. That her body hadn’t remembered every time it had responded to him against her will.

The silence stretched on. Long. Deep. Until it fractured.

Aira felt Zyren move.

Her entire body went rigid as the shift in weight drew closer. She didn’t dare look. Her eyes remained shut, her breath shallow. Her limbs stiffened as though bracing for impact. But he didn’t touch her—at least not yet. She only felt the pressure in the air, the growing presence next to her until it hovered close, too close.

Then, it became unbearable.

Her eyes flew open in shock.

Zyren was hovering above her. His face blank. His gaze unreadable. But there was something there—something simmering underneath that mask. Something she recognized all too well.

Desire.

She shot to her feet, stumbling off the bed as if burned, as if her body had touched fire. She stood away from him, eyes wide with disbelief.

Zyren’s frown was immediate. A flash of irritation darkened his expression.

"We’ve slept together before," he said calmly, as though that explained everything. "Moreover, there’s no way you can fall asleep."

His voice was even, but it carried weight. She didn’t need him to elaborate. The heat was still there in her belly. It wasn’t growing stronger, but it certainly wasn’t fading either. It just sat there—dormant and uncomfortable. A reminder of what he could ignite.

"I can make you feel better," he added, his tone dropping slightly.

Aira’s eyes narrowed. Her voice came out colder than she expected.

"You killed my father and brother," she reminded him, her words sharp and heavy. "The fact that I’ve already slept with you twice should last more than a lifetime."

The moment those words left her mouth, the temperature in the room seemed to drop. A suffocating stillness followed. Zyren’s gaze turned sharper, colder—but he said nothing at first.

The tension in the room curled and twisted like smoke. His next words came out measured and biting.

"We’re going to merge our souls tomorrow. You think this will—"

But she didn’t let him finish.

"As long as I’m fully conscious and aware...I’m not making any deals with you!" Her voice cracked slightly from the force of her own emotions. "I don’t want to touch you... and I don’t want you touching me!"

She didn’t add the rest of what she was thinking, but it screamed loud enough in her chest to echo through the walls.

’You cold, heartless monster. You can use me. But I’ll be damned if I also let you use me for your pleasure.’

She stood her ground, chest rising and falling in fast, shallow breaths. Her fists were clenched at her sides.

Zyren didn’t speak again. He didn’t reach for her or argue or explain himself. He only watched.

Aira didn’t wait for another word.

Without speaking, she slowly lowered herself onto the floor, the stone cold beneath her body, making it clear she wasn’t returning to the bed. She curled herself up, her back turned to him, her limbs folded tightly into herself.

This wasn’t fear.

This was resistance.

Aira didn’t flinch when she heard the rustle of the blankets behind her, didn’t move when Zyren climbed back onto the bed. She listened to the sound of his body settling into the mattress, but there were no words exchanged between them. Just silence again. Thick, oppressive silence.

But this time, it was different.

Because she had drawn the line.

And he hadn’t crossed it.

The room remained quiet. The candlelight flickered against the walls. Aira forced herself to keep her breathing steady, even as her heart continued to race and her skin still tingled with leftover heat that hadn’t been invited.

She stayed on the floor for what felt like hours, her body aching from the hardness beneath her. But she didn’t move. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of thinking she’d changed her mind. The only comfort she found was in the faint sound of his breathing from the bed above.

Eventually, her exhaustion overpowered her emotions.

And sometime deep into the night... she drifted off.

The next morning, the first thing she noticed was softness beneath her cheek. Warmth around her body. Her eyes fluttered open to the familiar plush surface of Zyren’s bed.

Her heart dropped.

She sat up instantly, arms shooting forward to brace herself. Her eyes scanned the room, her chest tightening.

Zyren was gone.

There was no trace of him. No sound. No movement. Only the memory of him.

And the fact that somehow—despite everything—she had ended up back on the bed.

***********

Waking up, Aira blinked against the morning light filtering through the curtains, her eyes adjusting slowly. The moment she rubbed the sleep from her eyes and realized she was alone in the massive bed, a cold wave washed over her. Zyren was gone. No trace of him lingered—just the weight of last night and everything it meant.

She didn’t allow herself to dwell on it.

Moving quickly, she rose from the bed and got dressed, her fingers fumbling only once as she tightened the last strap of her boots. Her movements were sharp, filled with purpose. She stepped out of the room, her jaw clenched, her expression unreadable.

Two guards stationed outside straightened as she approached. Without hesitation, she issued her command, her voice clipped and urgent.

"Call for my sister. Immediately."

They nodded, not daring to question her tone or ask for clarification.

Aira stepped back into the chamber and waited, her fingers tapping against her arm as she tried to steady herself. There was no time to think, no time to feel. She had to speak to Liora—now.

When Liora finally arrived, her face lit up with excitement. She moved quickly toward Aira, eyes bright and lips parting to greet her. But the warmth barely had time to settle before Aira launched straight into her words.

She wasted no time.

"I need to tell you something," she began, her voice tight with urgency. "That heat I told you about before... I felt it again. It hasn’t gone away. And I know now why Zyren spared me. It wasn’t mercy."

Liora’s smile faltered.

Aira continued, her voice slightly strained but steady. "I’ve slept with him, Liora. Before I even understood what was happening. The moment he touches me—it starts. I don’t know how to stop it. That heat—it’s in my blood. I feel like I’ll lose my mind sometimes if I don’t..."

Her voice cracked slightly, but she didn’t stop.

She looked her sister dead in the eye. "Do you feel it too? That sensation in your body? Like your skin is burning? Like you want to mate with any vampire who comes near?"

For a long, heavy second, Liora said nothing. Then her brow furrowed and she looked down, shaking her head slowly as though truly contemplating it.

"Heatblood?" she repeated, her voice low, uncertain. Then she looked up with a stunned and complicated expression. "No. I haven’t felt anything like that."

She lied smoothly, the look on her face honest, almost painfully so.

Inside, though, her thoughts twisted. The truth was—she had felt it. She had known what Aira was describing long before this conversation. She had even offered herself freely to vampires the moment the slavers captured her. Not once had they needed to force her. She had welcomed it, eager for a release from the maddening itch under her skin.

"I’m definitely not one," she said again, her voice softer now.

She told herself there was no reason to confess. After all, her sister was keeping secrets too.

And how could she trust a sister who had slept with the one person she should have been willing to die to kill?

’I care about you sister but TRUST is a separate matter!’