Page 228 of Vasmora

Her head rolled forward, and she gasped, eyes popping open.

The tension in his muscles eased, and he let out a relieved breath. “You fell asleep reading.”

She stared back at him, her eyes hooded but focused, riveted on his lips. “Did I?”

“Is she all right?” Rykaia asked, tipping her head.

Maevyth’s attention snapped toward his sister, her lips peeled back for a snarl. “What do you want?”

Rykaia recoiled, brows pulled tight. “Excuse me?”

“Hey.” Zevander hooked her chin with his finger, guiding her eyes back to his. Nothing in them seemed alarming, and aside from some redness across her cheek where she’d slept against the book, she didn’t appear to have any injuries. “Rykaia was worried about you.”

The scowl on Maevyth’s face softened. “I’m sorry, love,” she said to Zevander, running a finger along his jaw. “I’m not feeling myself. Perhaps you can carry me to the bed?”

Zevander exchanged a look with Rykaia, his sister crossing her arms in a defensive stance. The Maevyth he knew would’ve sooner hobbled on broken legs before asking him to carry her anywhere. Not that he minded, he’d have carried her regardless, it just left him wondering if she’d hit her head.

He also hadn’t forgotten her lack of a pulse moments ago.

He slid his arm beneath her legs, and the moment he lifted her from the chair, her arms flung around his neck, her head resting against his shoulder.

From behind the bookcase, Branimir stepped toward them, rubbing his hands together, his gaze angled toward the floor. “Is she injured?”

“No, just moody as a cat with a stick up its ass,” Rykaia snapped.

Branimir stepped closer, and Maevyth flinched in Zevander’s arms, turning her face into his neck.

His older brother shrank back. “Apologies if I frightened you.”

“Please just take me to bed, Zevander,” she said, not bothering to acknowledge Branimir. “I don’t want to see anyone right now.”

Zevander glanced toward his brother, who rubbed the back of his neck and slinked away.

As Zevander passed Rykaia for the door, his sister narrowed her eyes and shook her head. No doubt, behind those pursed lips sat a mouthful of snark just waiting to be unleashed, but she kept the comments to herself.

He carried Maevyth down the hallway, to the staircase leading to the upper bed chambers. “What happened?” he asked.

“I don’t know. I was reading, and the next thing I knew I woke up to you shaking me. I must’ve been exhausted.” She yawned and nuzzled her face into his neck, her fingers toying with his hair. “Mmmm. You smell delicious.”

Hungry lips found his neck, and Zevander turned his head.

It wasn’t that he wanted to reject her. Even then, as strangely as she behaved, he couldn’t deny the way she had his blood heated. Something wasn’t right, though.

Her nails dug into his neck, teeth grazing his jaw. “I want you to take me to bed and fuck me until I can’t remember my own name.”

Zevander frowned. While he appreciated her bold request, and would’ve happily indulged, it was completely out of character for her.

They reached his bedroom door, and he nudged it open, carrying her across the room to where he lay her down on the mattress.

As he pulled away, she clung to him, drawing him close again. “Please. It’s been too long since I felt you inside of me.”

“It’s been since this morning,” he argued, unraveling her hands from his neck. “And you don’t seem yourself at the moment.”

Her brows pulled to another scowl. “You would deny me?”

“You need rest.”

“I need your seed.” She sat forward, reaching for the ties of his trousers, but Zevander swiped up her wrist before she could loosen them. A grin too wicked for the Maevyth he knew stretched her lips. “If you won’t give it to me, perhaps I should seek it somewhere else.”