Craving in His Blood (Brides of the Kylorr, #2)

by Zoey Draven

“Kylorr can be highly possessive over the things we covet,” she told me. Her tone sounded distant as she said, “And he certainly covets you.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re terrible at comforting people?” I asked, keeping my tone light. “You were supposed to say, ‘I’m sorry, Millie. I’m sorry that your father is dead. How terrible.’” “You don’t want that,” he said, stepping closer, making me swallow. “Hollow words. Do you?” “It’s only polite,” I said, grappling for words as his nearing presence made my nerves spike. My neck craned back when he stopped mere feet away. “An heir to the Kaalium should know better.” A gruff laugh tumbled from his lips, unexpected and surprising. Then, when that laugh slowly died away, for a seemingly endless moment, we regarded one another.

“You’re different than how I thought you’d be,” Millie murmured, a soft smile on her haana-blossom pink lips. One of her shoulders lifted. “Nicer.” Discomfort tangled like a hardened knot in my chest. “I’m not nice,” I informed her, my tone sharp. “Don’t make that mistake.” Her smile died. It almost made me regret the words. Almost. “I want something from you,” I told her, pushing off the wall, knowing I needed to leave. And soon. “I’m selfish.” “And honest,” she added quietly. “At least you’re not a liar.”

“What’s that expression for?” I asked, inhaling her scent now that she was within arm’s reach. Venom flooded on my tongue, but I swallowed the thick sweetness down. “I’m wondering why you keep coming here,” she replied. I grunted. It was mortifying actually. And I didn’t want to talk about it.

“For what it’s worth…I don’t envy you. I know better,” I said, craning my neck back to meet his flint-filled eyes. “They might call you lucky, blessed by your gods and goddesses. Me? I call you chained, like I told you already.” A small flinch, but one I caught nonetheless. It made me soften.

Reaching out a hand, I pressed it to his forearm. His exposed flesh was warm, the muscles beneath solid, like marble. He was incredibly tense. I wondered how much more pressure would make him crack.

“I can’t seem to stay away from you,” came Kythel’s quiet confession. Tingles ran down my arms. “It’s quite infuriating. I’m at a loss of what to do about it.”

“Maybe with time you just forget how much it hurts. Maybe that’s how it becomes manageable.”

Gods, how I wished she was mine. If only for a little while. I would cherish and savor her, like that rare fruit from the Kaazor, until she was gone. A fleeting, ephemeral, beautiful thing in my life until I couldn’t have her anymore.

“So she did this?” he asked, his voice deceptively quiet and soft. The backs of his fingers brushed the bruise on my cheek. I caught his wide wrist in my palm. In an effort to distract him, I brushed my lips over his thumb. His smile was feral, those eyes pinned to my lips. “I will ruin her.”

“My little fallen star,” he rasped against my lips as my hands reached up to clutch his shoulders. “The universe dealt you a tragedy, but you didn’t let it break you. You fell hard on Krynn, dusted yourself off, and then you smiled as you moved forward. That’s what I admire.”