CHAPTER 78: ZYREN’S BED {4}

"This is this! For that...I’ll expect nothing less," he said, his voice tinged with amusement, his expression openly entertained as he leaned closer.

Aria didn’t flinch, but that didn’t mean she was okay with kissing him. She immediately opened her mouth to speak.

"We can just do it," she said, jerking the sheet she had pulled over herself tighter, hoping that the faster they got it over with, the better—for both of them.

Just because she didn’t flinch didn’t mean she didn’t want to rip the smug smile off his face.

Didn’t mean she didn’t want to dice him into tiny, bloody pieces and watch him writhe.

Didn’t mean she didn’t want him to suffer the most agonizing death imaginable—and feel pain so deep it followed him into whatever lay beyond death.

But almost like he could read her thoughts, Zyren chuckled to himself, an excited glint in his eyes, as he casually began removing the coat he had just put back on.

When he revealed himself, Aria gasped, a slight look of confusion flickering across her face as her gaze darted between his legs, wondering how it was possible that the already pulsing member there had somehow grown even larger.

"This is your first time, so I’ll—" he began, but Aria instantly shook her head.

She didn’t want to enjoy it. The idea of enjoying it terrified her. If she could, she would have chosen the worst pain imaginable—something so searing that every memory of this night would be soaked in agony and hatred.

She wanted to bleed. She wanted to scream. She wanted her body to remember just how much she despised him.

"No! It’ll be fine," she cut him off, her voice tight as she moved to lie back on the bed. Her cheeks flushed deeper with shame and discomfort with each second Zyren’s eyes lingered over her bare skin as he crawled closer, positioning himself above her.

Aria’s lashes fluttered until she shut her eyes tightly, her whole body trembling as his hands slid over her thighs. The internal heat surging through her body intensified. She didn’t hide it. She couldn’t—not even as she clenched the sheets with white-knuckled fists and felt the weight of his legs between hers.

Her heart thundered in her chest, breath coming in shallow pants as she waited—braced—for the moment he would push that monstrous thing into her.

It’s not going to fit!

she panicked, knowing full well it wouldn’t. But some twisted part of her believed she deserved the pain. Why should she be spared, when everyone she had loved was either dead or suffering?

Why shouldn’t she suffer, when she was lying in bed with the man who had murdered her father and brother?

But just as she steeled herself for the pain, everything shifted.

One moment, Zyren’s shadow loomed over her. The next, she was straddling him.

Aria’s eyes flew open wide in shock. Her body—naked—now rested on top of his, equally bare, as he reclined comfortably against the headboard.

His eyes were fixed on her breasts, dark and intense, in a way that made her instinctively want to cover herself with her hands.

But she hadn’t even moved when he spoke again—words that left her stunned.

"You want me, right?" he asked, a wicked gleam in his eyes, fully unrestrained.

"Then you can have me," he said, gripping her waist and pulling her closer until she could feel his pulsing length press up against the underside of her.

He lifted his hips just enough for her to feel every bit of it and then demanded—without saying it outright—that she be the one to put it in.

Her eyes widened. She hadn’t expected that.

One glance at Zyren told her he had no intention of doing it himself. He would wait. Patiently. Until the heat consumed her so completely that she had no choice but to give in on her own.

That realization made her frown, her frustration mounting. She had hoped he would just get it over with quickly. Instead, he had turned it into a cruel game.

Still seething, still determined to end this nightmare as quickly as she could, Aria slowly raised herself, placing her hands on his shoulders to steady herself—her jaw clenched, her shame burning hotter than the fire already ravaging her veins.

Grabbing hold of him, Aria wasn’t surprised by the coldness of his skin. The smooth marble-like texture beneath her trembling fingers only made the horror of what she was about to do more real. She pushed the tip of him into her, gasping sharply when even that failed to go in fully. Her muscles tensed instinctively, her thighs quivering as the searing stretch of pain lanced through her.

Her breath hitched—caught somewhere between a cry and a growl—as her body rejected the intrusion, her hips lifting instinctively in retreat.

But Zyren’s hands held her firm, not cruelly, not with force, but with an eerie calm patience, like a man watching a struggling animal he already owned. His grip was steady at her waist, thumbs caressing slow circles into her skin as though that could somehow ease her discomfort or, worse, lull her into complacency.

"Slow," he murmured, his voice low and guttural like the rumble of distant thunder. "You’ll tear if you force it."

"I don’t care," Aria hissed, biting down hard on her lip as she shifted again, trying to angle herself better. ’I want it to hurt.’

The pain from the heat in her belly was already subsiding but she knew it would return with even more force if she gave up.

His hands stilled. A silence fell so heavy between them that she felt the weight of it in her chest.

"You truly hate me that much," Zyren whispered, not a question, but an observation tinged with something unreadable—perhaps awe, perhaps amusement. His eyes never left her face.

Aria refused to respond, only glared at him with fire in her eyes as she moved again. The pressure between her legs was growing, more unbearable by the second. Her body fought it, and yet she persisted—forcing herself lower, letting the burn set her nerves ablaze.

A sharp cry escaped her lips.

Her breath stuttered in her throat, pain crashing into her all at once. It was unlike anything she had imagined. The stretch was too much. The sting too deep. Her hands gripped his shoulders so tightly she might have drawn blood had he been human. But he only sat there, unmoving, unflinching, watching her like she was something sacred—something shrouded in both agony and divinity.

"Gently, you’ll hurt yourself--" he whispered, his words slicing through her like a blade.

"Don’t—" she gasped, voice cracking as her face twisted with shame and fury. "Don’t say that to me."

The filth of his words made her stomach churn, yet she couldn’t stop now. Not when her legs trembled from effort, her breath came in ragged bursts, and the worst of the pain hadn’t even passed. She hated that he could see through her, read her like an open book. She hated him.

"I can help!" Zyren offered with a sly smile still plastered on his face in a way that incensed her beyond words.

"Shut up!" she cried out, her voice rising in pitch as she sank further, inch by unbearable inch, her jaw clenched so tightly she feared she’d crack a tooth.

Zyren’s hands slid up her sides, cradling her waist, his fingers brushing lightly over the curve of her hips. His cool breath ghosted over her flushed skin.

"I can feel you clenching around me. You feel nice!" his voice so low that Aria, who was slowly drifting into a daze was almost convinced it sounded genuine.