Page 217 of Blade of the Nightking

In the reflection overhead, his gaze traced the length of my bare legs before lifting back to my face. “Are you angry with me?”

I snorted. “I’m always angry with you.” I tilted my head, studying him through the dim glow. “I hate you.”

His mouth thinned. “Nothing happened.”

“Of course.”

“I swear it.”

“I saw the look on your face. I saw the state of the room when you were done with it.” Something knotted again in my chest, only to be swallowed immediately by the magic raging beneath my skin. “And most of all—I saw Elyndra.”

I didn't need to explain further. She was the most stunning creature I'd ever seen.

My magic rolled tighter and tighter around itself, pressing against my ribs, my lungs, every part of me, consumed by a fierce and irrational possessiveness that made no sense at all. Over my enemy. Over Rìan of all people.

The male I hated.

The male who intended to kill Aedric—my bonded mate.

But my magic didn't understand any of that. It didn't understand the resentment that had taken root between us, or the loathing my human side still clung to. It didn't care about reason, or history, or loyalty.

It wanted him.

And I was burning alive with the force of it.

“I don’t desire her,” he said tightly.

“Liar,” I breathed. My fingers drifted down my sides, tracing the soft fabric of the shirt. It felt impossibly restrictive, trapping heat against skin already burning from within. I tugged absently at the hem, desperate for relief that never came. In the reflection, I watched Rìan freeze as my eyes found his. “Rìan, even I desired her.”

His breath caught. His gaze snapped down to my hand and back to my face, his brows drawing together as though he was trying to make sense of what he was seeing. “I don’t like this.”

I drew one leg up, my fingers tracing a lazy path down my thigh. Rìan watched my reflection in the mirrored ceiling with unnerving focus.

“What do you like, Prince?” The voice that emerged hardly sounded like my own. It was too smooth, too seductive, shaped by a hunger that wasn’t entirely human.

Gods, I was burning.

My magic thrashed within me, drowning every coherent thought beneath wave after wave of desperate wanting. And the sight of him lying there, watching me with that unwavering intensity, was only making it worse.

My fingers drifted lower, grazing the softness of my inner thigh.

I caught my lower lip between my teeth. In the reflection above us, I watched his eyes follow the movement.

“Stop,” he said, his arm flying out from beneath his head, but before he could push himself up, my fingers slid beneath the hem of my shirt, my knee falling apart as I traced the hot wetness I found there. I couldn't stop the moan that slipped from my lips as the sensation ignited something deep within me.

I wanted… I wanted…

Lazily, I explored my own silky warmth, moving in slow, deliberate circles before sliding a finger inside me. My body clenched around it.

“Eidra—stop,” he said again, but it was hoarse now.

I kept eye contact with him in the reflection as the need raged through me, more urgent now, the pressure building with frightening speed. My body was burning with it, burning with desire, every coherent thought consumed by the ruthless demands of my magic.

He wet his lips and liquid warmth pooled against my fingers.

“Is this what you like?” My voice came in needy pants as the tension built and built, exquisite in its intensity.

Elyndra. He wanted Elyndra. There was no way he didn't.