“You just need to get comfortable.” Marlow motions to the ring. “Get in there and act it out. Practice.”
Oh crap. Can this get any more mortifying? I’m not much of a fighter. Or an athlete. The last time I ran a mile was in high school and then I dropped out of school afterward… Okay, that had more to do with my aunt being terrified of my powers, but the mile still sucked. My physical fitness might be the only thing weaker than my necromancer skills.
Then Marlow says, “Make yourself useful and help him out, Harper.”
“I’m still pissed,” the wolf grunts.
“Role-playing?” I quip with a feeble chuckle. Look at that. It just got more mortifying. “I don’t think Harper’s that kinky.”
“Are you suggesting you are?” Harper asks.
“No!” My gaze drops to the object in my hands. “Ignore the whip.”
He tilts his head toward Marlow. “Should I transform into wolf form?”
“Eh, dealer’s choice.” Marlow waves us off, ushering us into the ring.
I approach the ring and awkwardly maneuver between the ropes. My foot catches on the bottom rope, and I pitch forward, barely catching myself before faceplanting. Off to a great start. Harper hops over the ropes like it’s nothing, landing with a grace that’s almost feline instead of wolfish. Great, he’s already showing me up.
I straighten up, holding the whip with both hands as I walk to the center of the ring. The energy flows sluggishly from me into the whip as I pretend I know what I’m doing. Would facing a raging Minotaur be easier than a pissed wolf? The Minotaur might be upset I summoned it, but it doesn’t know me. Harper’s rage isentirelypersonal.
When I look at Marlow to find out what happens next, he only shrugs and points to Harper. “Tame him.”
Harper starts to move around me in a wide arc, a predator sizing up its prey. I already feel off balance, moving to keep distance between us in reaction, and it already feels like he’s in control. His eyes never leave my body, tracking every tiny flinch or twitch I make.
He changes direction without warning, testing my reaction. I shuffle backward, nearly tripping over my own feet.
“Ha, uh, don’t we need a safe word first?” I ask.
“A joke isn’t going to work on a dragon,” he chides immediately.
“Like you know what dragons find funny.”
“What about that tentacle monstrosity? Ask it what its kinks and limits are, see how far that gets you.”
I raise the whip in his direction, warning, “Hey, be nice. Don’t make me use this.”
“You won’t,” Harper says certainly.
“Well yeah, but you have to pretend you’re a monster who doesn’t know that.”
“I can see it all over your face,” he sneers. “Your weakness, your doubt.”
“Hey!” Why is he being such a dick? That’s usually my job.
He prowls around me, the circle he’s making tightening with each pass. The ring suddenly feels too small, the ropes at my back a trap waiting to spring.
The distance between us vanishes in an instant. His hand brushes against my shoulder, his fingers trail across my collarbone, and I barely hold in a gasp. Every nerve ending where he touches me buzzes with electricity, like he’s awakened something under my skin.
“If I were a dragon, you’d be dead,” Harper taunts.
“That was a lucky—hey!” My reply cuts off as Harper closes the distance again in a quick lunge, lightly tapping my shoulder. He leaps away before I can do anything to retaliate. Ugh, why doesn’t he have a beginner setting? And why do I get the feeling he’s enjoying this?
“Why are you being a dick? Do you want me to lash you?” I raise the whip threateningly, hoping it will keep him at bay.
“Not really into that, not receiving anyway.”
“Whoa.” What’s my face doing? No idea. Probably something unattractive as it struggles to react to that, just like the rest of me. Is he serious? An image enters my mind: Harper firmly gripping the strap and bringing it down on a sensitive area with that firm look on his face…
