CHAPTER 27: SPAT

The pleasure dulled something inside her—something she felt she should remember. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t recall what it was... not that she tried very hard.

The shame she should’ve felt—at being touched so intimately in a place she herself had never dared explore—would have consumed her completely, if not for the sheer force of the pleasure flooding her in that moment. Her body couldn’t have cared less.

Her back arched with a gasp, raw and breathless, as her moans spilled louder with each thrust of his fingers. Her body trembled violently, the sensation of being filled so deeply making her mouth fall open in a silent cry. She felt as though she’d been deprived of air, lungs clawing for breath, her senses splintering under the weight of sensation.

Her eyes blurred with tears, dazed and wide, yet all she could feel was the relentless build of ecstasy rising within her. It made her want to beg—desperately, shamefully—to ask for more, because no matter how many waves rolled through her, none of them were enough.

And it kept going.

With every second, it intensified—until nothing else mattered. Not the muscular arm wrapped around her, pinning her close. Not the soft, steady breath that ghosted across her neck.

She even leaned into him.

Her body, burning hot, pressed into his, drawn like a moth to the coolness of him. It was instinctive, a craving for contrast—heat to cold, pain to pleasure.

The tension in her thighs coiled tighter, the pressure mounting between her legs until her mouth parted wider, her lips trembling uncontrollably.

Her hands reached back, gripping his—meant to push him away, to make him stop—but instead, they guided him. Urged him. Invited him. And Zyren, smiling darkly behind her, was all too glad to oblige.

It lasted longer than she could comprehend.

Every time Aria thought it would end, Zyren would slow, dragging her to the edge—and then pull her back, only to drive her forward again until she was panting, shaking, her thoughts reduced to a single wordless plea.

And then, without warning, another climax tore through her.

"Ahhh!!!" she cried out, the sound raw and uncontrolled. Her fists clenched tightly into the sheets, toes curling as she gasped, trying to hold on to something—anything. Her trembling body gave out beneath her as her muscles spasmed, and then she was lifted.

Effortlessly.

Her warmth collided with the coolness of his chest, and she gasped again at the sudden contrast, instinctively leaning into the chill.

Slowly—too slowly—her mind began to return to her. Her eyes fluttered open, lashes damp, and reality bled back into the edges of her awareness.

But the moment barely lasted a heartbeat.

In a flash, Aria jerked away from him, like she’d been scorched by his touch. Her panic was immediate and full-bodied. But Zyren didn’t let go. His grip was unyielding.

A deep, amused chuckle rumbled in his chest as he pulled her in closer, his lips brushing her ear with deliberate cruelty. His hands—still beneath her gown—remained exactly where they were.

Aria gritted her teeth and shoved at his arm with everything she had. It didn’t move. Not even an inch. She could still feel his breath on her skin, teasing, taunting, as he whispered:

"You loved it. Next time," he added, his voice low and husky, "I want to hear you scream my name."

The bulge pressing against her from behind was impossible to ignore. It made her already-pounding heart slam harder against her ribs.

"Let go of me," she growled, low and venomous, even as she kept struggling against him, knowing it was useless.

Every second that passed only solidified the memory of what had just happened—vivid, undeniable. And his hand was still under her gown, fingers brushing her thigh in that same maddening rhythm, making her relive every moment.

"Can... can you just let me go?" she asked, voice cracking.

The only thing she wanted now was distance. No more touching. No more reminders.

But Zyren, like he’d plucked the thought straight from her mind, pulled her closer instead. She could feel every inch of him, the way his long black hair slid along her neck as he dipped his head beside her ear.

"You liked it when I touched you a few seconds ago," he whispered, his tone darker now—grittier.

Then more crudely, almost like a taunt: "You were dripping with—"

"Shut up!" Aria screamed, voice shaking as tears burned her eyes. She was furious—at him, at herself. Furious that she hadn’t stopped it. Furious that her body had responded. And most of all, furious that he seemed to be enjoying every second.

"SHUT UP!" she cried again, her voice hoarse, daring the consequences of yelling at him like that.

His chest vibrated with another deep laugh, dark and thunderous, like he controlled the very air around them.

But his hands didn’t stop.

They kept roaming, and it drove her beyond fury. She opened her mouth to scream again—but then froze.

His next words hit her like ice.

"I really want to push you down on this bed and take you this very second," he said, and this time, there was no humor in his tone. No teasing. Just raw, deliberate want.

Her blood turned to stone in her veins.

"But for now..." he murmured, gaze flickering with something far more dangerous, "your blood will taste magnificent."

Aria’s chest heaved. Panic surged through her, sharp and fast.

She didn’t know much about vampires. But she knew enough about bloodlust. Enough to know she didn’t want to experience it—not when her own body still betrayed her so easily.

She didn’t respond.

She couldn’t.

Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her silence more telling than words. But just as she thought the moment couldn’t worsen, his grip loosened.

Just enough.

He turned her to face him, eyes gleaming. And his next words came not as a suggestion, but as a command.

One that sounded unmistakably like a master addressing a slave.

"Lie very still and bare your neck."

But Aria didn’t let him finish.

She lifted her head—and spat.

The motion was instinctive, thoughtless. She didn’t realize what she’d done until it was already done. Her spit landed squarely on his black, half-unbuttoned tunic. Just shy of his face.

For one fleeting second, she wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or regretful that it hadn’t landed on his face.

Then she met his gaze.

Everything inside her stilled.

The fury in his eyes was immediate and immense—so palpable she felt it seep into the air, crackling like fire beneath her skin and in that moment, Aria was petrified.

Because for the first time, she realized the gravity of what she had done and just how much danger she was in.