<h4>Chapter 117: Suit Yourself</h4>


    Aira woke up with a sharp jolt, her breath catching in her throat like a scream that had been stifled mid-air. She didn’t recognize the ceiling above her — too dark, too regal, too foreign.


    Her eyes shot open slowly at first before hershes rapidly fluttered almost like her eyes were working overtime to figure out what was going on.


    Panic bloomed in her chest like wildfire. Her hands twitched against warm fabric, and it was only when she shifted slightly that she felt it — an arm. Strong. Muscled. Heavy across her waist.


    Her heart stopped.


    This wasn’t her room.


    And this definitely wasn’t her bed and that thought was enough to bring back memories that sleep had somehow managed to dull and erase.


    Her spine stiffened, and she sucked in a quiet breath, head turning with painstaking slowness. As soon as her eyesnded on the familiar silhouette behind her, she froze.


    Zyren.


    Her blood ran cold.


    She had barely started to pull away — a slow, desperate crawl for space, for sanity — when his arm moved in sync, tightening around her waist like an unrelenting chain.


    She had already been enclosed around his body but the small pull only served to cement her fate.


    His entire body, far too warm for someone so dark inside, curled closer around her back, molding to her like he belonged there.


    Like she belonged there.


    "No, no, no," she whispered, barely audible, her body going rigid. "Get off me—"


    "Why?" came his voice, low and amused, brushing against her ear like velvet dipped in threat. "You were warmer before."


    Aira flinched. "Zyren," she hissed through gritted teeth, voice shaking more from restraint than fear. "Let. Me. Go."


    She twisted in his grasp, elbow nudging against his ribs. But he didn’t flinch. Didn’t budge. Instead, he looked down at her with that maddeningly smug expression, eyes half-lidded and glinting withzy delight — like a predator basking in the chaos he alone could stir.


    "You keep moving like that, and you’ll wake something else up," he murmured, his voice rumbling against her back.


    She gaped at him, scandalized. "You’re disgusting."


    "Mm." He inhaled the scent of her hair, lips brushing dangerously close to her temple. "And you smell like nightmares and something forbidden. I like it."


    "I will kill you."


    Zyren only chuckled, like it amused him — no, thrilled him — that she still had fight in her.


    Aira yanked at his arm again, trying to slip out, but he responded by pulling her in tighter, until her back was flush against his chest. His hand moved to her stomach, fingers spreading possessively across the thin fabric of her nightgown — she hadn’t even realized she was wearing something different than her usual clothes.


    Her stomach twisted with confusion and a rush of self-consciousness. Did he change me? Who undressed me? The thoughts came rapid, sharp, and cold.


    "What the hell is going on?" she finally demanded, trying to look over her shoulder. What did you do?"


    Zyren leaned up on one elbow, unbothered, still keeping his grip firm around her.


    "You were weaker than you thought and you needed more rest! You’ll feel much better than before." He told her even if he clearly refused to answer her question as he went to tell her the state of her health.


    Aira’s eyes widened. "I’ve been pped for that long? You slept beside me?"


    "Where else?" he said simply, voice dripping with arrogance. "This way I could monitor you myself. Make sure nothing... unfortunate happened while you slept."


    Her mouth opened and closed. "You expect me to believe this is for my protection?"


    He smiled, and it was all teeth and menace. "No. I expect you to appreciate it. That’s all."


    "Appreciate—?!" she was nearly shrieking now, shoving at his chest. "You sleep next to me without permission, you hold me like—like this, and you expect me to be grateful?!"


    Zyren’s eyes narrowed slightly, but the smirk never left his face. "I don’t need your permission, heatblood. If you were in any danger, it was from everyone but me."


    Aira stared at him in disbelief. Her hands trembled, not from fear but from fury. "You think because you didn’t kill me yourself, it makes you my savior?" She asked even as she felt his hands on her back roaming there in a way that made her want to tear his arms off.


    He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he studied her face with a strange intensity, his fingers stilling on her waist, curling slightly. His gaze flickered between her eyes and lips, like he was measuring something she couldn’t see.


    "You’re awake now," he said, tone shifting subtly. "That’s enough."


    "No," she said, voice hoarse. "It’s not."


    The fight drained from her bones, not because she forgave him or trusted him — never that — but because her body was still tired, weak, traitorous. She stopped resisting, just for a moment, letting her head fall back against the pillow, eyes narrowed at the ornate canopy above them.


    Zyren, sensing her surrender, leaned down slowly and pressed his lips to her forehead — not tender, not loving, but deliberate. Like marking territory. A silent statement: mine.


    Aira didn’t move. Didn’t breathe even as she heard him whisper sultry words right into her ears.


    "Part your legs and let me sleep with you!" He told her without the slightest hint of shyness in his tone or voice as he pressed his body harder into hers right between her butt cheeks where she felt his pulsing rock hard member hot and fiery against her skin.


    Arian’s first reaction was to jerk away as he pulled back.


    When he pulled back, he saw the look in her eyes — not softness, not pain. Just the quiet, simmering fire of anger and more anger. A storm waiting for the right wind.


    "Kill me first! Maybe you’ll get a chance with my corpse!" She snapped back in response even as she continued to speak.


    " Do you get off on pretending to do that?," she whispered.


    He raised a brow. "Do what?"


    "Touch me like I’m yours," she snapped. "Like you didn’t murder people in front of me. Like you wouldn’t kill me if it suited you!"


    Zyren rolled onto his back, finally giving her some space. His arms folded behind his head as he stared at the ceiling.


    "I saved you," he said again, but the tone this time was colder. No amusement. No velvet. Just fact. "And I put two traitors to death. I’d do it again."


    Aira sat up, pulling the sheets closer around herself even though she was still clothed. "You enjoyed it."


    Zyren looked at her then, slowly, like turning to face a memory. "Yes."


    She gaped. "You—"


    "I won’t lie to you," he cut in sharply. "I will never do that. The things I enjoy are the things that make me powerful. And keeping you alive? That’s part of it!"


    "You talk like I’m just another possession," she spat. "Like my life has value only because you decided it does."


    He tilted his head slightly. "Is that not true for everyone in this ce?"


    That silenced her for a second. Not because he was right — but because the truth hurt. Because every day in Zyren’s court reminded her how fragile survival was. How deeply woven it was with obedience, submission, and luck.


    But sh


    "I’m not your pet," she said quietly. "I’m not your ything. I’ll never be."


    Zyren’s expression didn’t change, but something in his eyes flickered — a shadow, barely visible.


    "Good," he said softly. "I’m tired of pets. They break too easily."


    She didn’t know whether that was meant to insult her or protect her. And she didn’t care.


    "I want out of this room," she said, throwing her legs off the bed. Her knees buckled a little from weakness, but she steadied herself. "Now."


    Zyren didn’t move. His hands still tight around her waist in a way that showed just how unwilling he was to do so.


    It was clear that the request he had made hadn’t just been halfheartedly made but with intention.


    Aira nced at him sharply. "I’d crawl on the ground and tear out my tongue before I let you touch me again." Meaning every word.


    A muscle ticked in his jaw. "Suit yourself."


    She took a few steps, hands gripping the wall for support, before turning back toward him. He was still lying there, shirtless, sheetszily hanging off his hips like the devil in a painting.


    "From now on I can sleep on the floor! There’s no reason why we should share the same bed!," she said expecting Zyren tomand he to not do such a thing only to watch him shrug.


    His smile returned, slow and cruel. "Suit yourself! As long as you don’t regret it!." He told her and the thought of waiting for him to leave before changing didn’t ur to her as she went ahead and left first.


    She mmed the door on her way out.