CHAPTER 70: TONGUE: FULLY FUNCTIONAL

Aira was stunned at the sight of him—and she couldn’t hide it. The shock was carved into every inch of her face. But the surprise hadn’t even fully settled before it began to twist into anger, rising slowly like smoke as she remained seated on the cold floor.

She turned her gaze to Bovan without a word, making no effort to acknowledge Zyren, though it was clear he noticed. He found it amusing, lips twitching with faint humor as he too shifted his gaze to the trembling healer.

Bovan shook from head to toe, collapsing to his knees the moment Zyren’s eyes fell upon him, his voice spilling out in panicked fragments before any question had been asked.

"Y-Your Lordship! I treated her leg to the best of my knowledge, and the other bruises—I was just about to—"

"You can leave," Zyren interrupted flatly, cutting him off before he could stammer another word. The command carried no emotion, but it froze the air in the room.

Bovan’s face contorted with horror, confusion flashing across his features, followed by stunned relief. He bowed so low that his forehead touched the floor.

"Y-Yes, Your Highness!" he exclaimed before scrambling to his feet, practically sprinting out of the room. The door slammed shut behind him in his frantic escape.

He had been sure Zyren had overheard everything—every shameful, fearful thing he’d said to Aira. But the vampire lord made no mention of it. Only the last sentence. It was as if he’d chosen to ignore the rest... or found it irrelevant.

Aira, on the other hand, stared blankly at the door. Her face was empty now, unreadable. But she made no move to speak, nor did she lift her head. Instead, she slowly lowered it, eyes fixed on the floor. She refused to meet Zyren’s gaze, even though she could feel it bearing down on her.

The silence stretched, thick and oppressive, before Zyren finally spoke.

"What?" he asked, voice low and biting. She could feel him moving closer, looming over her like a shadow. He stood while she remained seated on the ground, refusing to acknowledge him.

"Did I break you so easily?" he added, voice laced with mockery—an inflection she had grown used to. His next words were sharp and cruel.

"Maybe I was too reckless. Your fingers would have sufficed."

Aira clenched her hands into fists, her body tensing. She started to lift her head, rage burning beneath her skin, only to jerk it to the side with a furious glare, eyes aflame. Still, she refused to speak, acting as if he didn’t exist.

She was livid—no, livid wasn’t enough. She was seething, consumed by the helpless, agonizing reality that nothing she did could hurt him. No resistance mattered. No defiance reached him.

And that made her want to scream.

But she wouldn’t do it in front of him. She refused to cry or beg or break—not here, not with him watching.

She heard the soft, deliberate steps as he drew closer, each one unhurried.

"If I recall correctly, I didn’t order the guards to cut your tongue," he said coldly.

Her jaw clenched, and she ground her teeth together, still keeping her eyes fixed on the ground.

And then suddenly—her whole body was lifted off the floor.

Strong, familiar hands gripped her. She jerked away instinctively, but his hold was firm. One hand gripped her jaw, the other her throat, keeping her still just as his lips crashed against hers.

She clamped her teeth shut, resisting him, but pain bloomed as the sharp edge of his fangs pierced her lips, forcing her mouth open. His tongue slid past her defenses, invading her mouth with brutal force and fiery heat.

If the last kiss had been possessive, this one was devouring—burning with twice the intensity. His tongue moved against hers, exploring, claiming, forcing her to breathe him in until every breath in her lungs was tangled with his.

She gasped for air, dazed and suffocating. He didn’t stop.

Aira barely noticed when he threw her onto the bed—nor did she care. She was too focused on pushing him away, even as he pressed forward, stronger, heavier, completely in control.

She shoved at his chest with all the strength she had left, but it was useless. He didn’t budge. His kisses only grew deeper, rougher, as he pushed her legs apart and settled between them.

By the time he finally pulled back, she was gasping, her chest heaving, her cheeks flushed a dark crimson—equal parts fury and humiliation. Her eyes were wet with tears she couldn’t stop, and she glared at him with hatred so sharp it could cut.

"Now that’s better... isn’t it?" he murmured smugly. He braced his arms on either side of her head, staring down at her like a predator admiring a trapped animal.

He didn’t speak again, but the way his gaze roamed over her body was enough. Aira instantly moved to close her legs. The coat she had used to cover herself had fallen open, and the short dress she wore had ridden up too far, revealing nearly all of her thighs.

She tried to shift away, only for his arms to tense, locking her in place as he lowered himself slightly, making it unmistakably clear—she wasn’t going anywhere.

"I can confirm that your tongue is fully functional," he whispered near her ear, his lips brushing the edge of her lobe as he spoke.

"It was the way you kept sliding it against mine in a—"

"The only thing I’ll ever do is try to get away from you," Aira snapped, cutting him off.

Her voice was breathless, laced with exasperation, but her tone turned steely, almost deadly, as she continued.

"You can force me if you want. But I’d rather die than willingly offer myself to you."

Her chest rose and fell with effort. She no longer tried to turn away. She just lay there—motionless. Her eyes were hollow, and the look she gave him was devoid of care. Of fear. Of anything.

’If he wanted to force her, let him,’ she thought bitterly. ’She couldn’t stop him anyway.’

Especially not with that black shadow ability of his—the one that froze her limbs, paralyzed her strength. The one she feared the most.

His hand gripped her chin, forcing her to look up at him again. His voice was calm, assured, every syllable tinged with conviction.

"You don’t know it yet," he said quietly, "but you will beg me to touch you. And I will."

Aira stared at him like he had lost his mind. The arrogance, the delusion—it was almost laughable.

"I’ll kill you," she hissed, her voice shaking with rage. "And you’ll kill me back."

Zyren didn’t flinch. He simply rose from the bed, his eyes trailing over her bare legs without the slightest shame.

Aira, whose defiance had been an act, instinctively yanked the coat back over herself and turned her face away in disgust, cheeks burning with fury.

She waited—silent, tense—for him to leave.

But his voice broke the air again.

"Get ready. Wear something nice. A new collar too." He paused at the door.

"I’m taking you somewhere this evening."

Then he left, not bothering to look back—completely sure that she would obey.