Arkin didn't answer. He didn't even look at her.
Before the high-born socialites could pick their jaws off the ruined white stone, the shadows beneath Arkin's boots surged upward. They swallowed Lexianna whole, the world violently compressing into a suffocating tunnel of dark magic.
When the spatial tear spat them back out, they were standing in the stifling, cedar-scented heat of his bedchamber.
The heavy oak doors were locked. The ambient noise of the Great Palace was gone.
Lexianna opened her mouth, fully prepared to ask how she got pregnant and when? Without her permission?
She never got the chance.
Arkin's massive frame suddenly jerked forward. The suffocating, terrifying aura of the apex predator instantly collapsed. He slammed his free hand onto the table, using it to desperately brace his weight.
He coughed.
A thick, violent splatter of dark, almost black blood hit the wood.
Lexianna froze. The tirade died on her tongue.
The arm still wrapped securely around her waist was trembling. It wasn't a slight tremor. He coughed again, his broad shoulders heaving as another drop of blood slid down his chin.
If Arkin dropped dead right now, her entire survival strategy in this Xianxia-meat-grinder went bankrupt. The Fox Clan would be at the door in five minutes.
She ignored the sudden, sharp throb in her own chest.
She had been hiding it since the garden. Her own biological mutiny had flared up again. The pressure in her breasts was building into an agonizing, heavy ache, and she could feel the warm, damp spread of pineapple nectar beginning to soak into her silk undergarments.
Her clit was pulsing with a heavy, rhythmic demand.
She didn't even know why it suddenly flared up with his appearance.
But a CEO didn't bleed in front of a wounded partner. She shoved the biological malfunction to the back of her mind.
"Arkin," she said, her voice dropping the sharp edge, leaning into his side to help support his massive weight. "What is wrong?"
She didn't wait for him to catch his breath. She reached across the table with her free hand, grabbed the porcelain pitcher of jasmine tea, and quickly poured a cup. She lifted it toward his mouth.
"Drink this," she ordered.
Arkin turned his head, refusing the rim of the cup.
He looked down at her. His dying-star eyes were hazy, the feral ruby-red bleeding out of the irises, leaving them a dark, exhausted black. His breathing was ragged, his chest expanding in deep, uneven pulls.
"I have... issues with my anger," Arkin rasped, his voice a low, jagged vibration that scraped against her eardrums. He wiped the blood from his chin with the back of his hand. "When I kill. When I let the beast off the leash too much. The magic overloads the vessel."
Lexianna set the teacup down with a sharp clack.
He wasn't invincible. The terrifying display of power in the corridor and the garden came with an exorbitant physical tax. He was literally burning himself out from the inside.
Pragmatic empathy took over. "How can I help you?" she asked, her silver eyes scanning his pale face. "What do you need?"
Arkin didn't answer with words.
His gaze dropped. It slid down the elegant line of her neck, past the flame mark, and locked onto her chest.
Lexianna followed his eyes.
Shit.
The dark red hanfu was thick, but it wasn't waterproof. Two perfectly symmetrical, dark, damp circles had already bloomed through the expensive silk, right over her peaks. The heavy, intoxicating scent of sun-drenched pineapple and rich, sweet cream was rapidly filling the air between them, completely overpowering the smell of his blood.
The secret was out.
Lexianna's face burned.
Before she could even think about a dignified retreat, her nine silver tails whipped around from behind her. Acting entirely on their own frantic, defensive instinct, they plastered themselves flat across her chest, a thick wall of silver fur desperately trying to hide the liquid evidence.
"No," Lexianna snapped, taking a half-step back, though his arm around her waist kept her tethered. "Absolutely not. We have been doing this all day."
Arkin didn't let her retreat. The haze in his eyes shifted. The exhaustion remained, but the starving hunger of the Wolf dragged itself back to the surface, lured out by the scent of the only medicine that could soothe his fractured core.
"Darling," Arkin murmured, the word dark and heavy with possession. "It is never enough."
Lexianna's silver ears pinned flat against her skull. Her cheeks flushed a violent, furious red.
"Darling?" she hissed, her pride rearing its head. "Whose your darling?"
Arkin ignored the reprimand entirely.
He let go of the table. He gripped her hips with both hands, his massive thumbs pressing into the soft dip of her waist. He stepped backward, pulling her with him, until the back of his knees hit the edge of the low, cushioned stool sitting near the desk.
He sat down heavily. In the same fluid motion, he pulled Lexianna forward, maneuvering her so she was standing directly between his spread thighs, facing him.
The physical proximity was devastating. The hard, thick ridge of his arousal, instantly reawakened by her scent, pressed directly against the apex of her thighs through his leather armor.
Lexianna gasped, her hands flying down to grip his broad shoulders to steady herself.
Arkin didn't reach for her chest. He didn't tear her clothes.
Instead, he leaned forward and simply plopped his heavy forehead against the curve of her shoulder. It was a gesture of sheer, unapologetic vulnerability. The apex predator of the Demon Realm, resting his weight against a disgraced fox.
"Please, wifey," he rasped, his breath hot against her collarbone, his voice dropping into a ragged, desperate plea. "Let me drink of your milk."
Lexianna stopped breathing.
Lexi, her internal monologue whispered, horrified and entirely captivated. Is this how low you have fallen?
She was a CEO. A billionaire. And she was currently standing between the thighs of a demonic warlord, heavily debating whether or not to act as a human pacifier just because he called her 'wifey' in a voice that made her ovaries vibrate.
She ground her teeth together. The physical math of the situation was undeniable.
Her nipples were throbbing, a searing, heavy pressure that felt like tiny needles of fire pressing outward. Her clit was aching, weeping for friction. The biological mutiny was in full swing. She couldn't fight a two-front war. She could only solve one problem right now, and the chest pressure was rapidly approaching critical mass.
Desperation won.
"Fine," she choked out.
Her tails slowly uncoiled, retreating to drape heavily behind her. Her trembling fingers reached for the thick sash tied at her waist.
She pulled the knot.
The heavy red hanfu parted. She let the silk slide off her shoulders, the expensive fabric pooling into a vibrant red puddle around her ankles.
She was left standing in only her silk undergarments—a thin, white halter-style bodice designed to hold her breasts firmly in place. It was completely soaked through, the translucent golden nectar glistening against the white fabric.
Arkin lifted his head from her shoulder.
His eyes were burning. He reached up, his large, calloused fingers moving with terrifying, agonizing precision. He didn't rip the fabric. He found the delicate silk rope tied between her cleavage and slowly, deliberately, undid the knot.
The tension released.
The wet silk fell away. Her heavy, swollen breast spilled free, the pale white skin flushed with heat.
Arkin leaned forward just a fraction.
The swollen, leaking peak of her nipple tapped softly against his lower lip. A single drop of the thick, sweet nectar painted his mouth.
Lexianna's spine bowed. A pathetic, broken whimper slipped through her teeth as the briefest contact sent a jolt of lightning straight down to her aching core.
Arkin didn't break eye contact. He looked up at her through his dark lashes, his eyes glowing with victory.
"Allow me to feast, then."