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He stepped closer, his chest inches from mine, radiating heat. “No?” His lips quirked. “And yet your body believes it does.”
Arrogant bastard. I should have slammed the door in his smug, stupidly gorgeous face. Instead, I decided to torture him right back. I let my fingers trail slowly up the front of my nightdress, deliberately teasing. His gray eye locked on mine, nostrils flaring—reminding me of a hungry animal.
“You’re awfully confident,” I said smoothly. “For someone standing in enemy territory.”
“Enemy?” He laughed, his voice low and sinful. “Kage is a rival, if that. And you—are we enemies, Pendragon? Is that what we are, even while I stand here, in your bedroom? I don’t see you trying to throw me out.”
I shrugged. “Fuck if I know what we are, Blake. You did make a career out of tormenting me last year.”
He smiled—slow and wicked. “You say that like you didn’t enjoy it.”
I flushed, hating that he wasn’t entirely wrong. Rage, fascination, desire—they’d all been twisted and tangled together from the very beginning when it came to Blake Drakharrow and me.
“Is that why you’re here, to torment me some more?”
“Maybe I’m here to collect a debt,” he murmured, brushing his knuckles down the delicate skin of my arm. “Maybe you still owe me … for all those little sins you committed.”
“Sins?” My voice had a telltale hitch to it. “I beg your pardon?” Immediately, I regretted using the word beg around Blake.
“Every time you defied me,” he said, leaning in, his mouth a hairbreadth from my ear. “Every time you fought back. Every time you looked at me like you hated me—but wanted me anyway.”
I shivered. Damn him. Damn him and that wicked, teasing mouth.
He pulled back just enough to meet my eyes. “Maybe it’s time to pay up, Pendragon.”
“And what, exactly, do you think I owe you, my prince?” I tried to keep my voice cold but feared I was failing. Worried he could hear the ragged need there, just below the surface. We were playing a game again, just like the other day when I’d pulled him into that classroom. But this time he was clearly enjoying being the one in control.
Blake’s hand came up and brushed the strap of my nightdress off one shoulder. It slid down my arm in a whisper of silk. “Everything,” he said simply.
Before I could retort, his hands were on my waist, lifting me easily, spinning me around and pressing me against the bedroom door. His body caged mine in, all muscle and heat. For a second, we just breathed each other in. His breath was hot on my throat. My chest brushed his own with every rise and fall.
“Say it,” he demanded.
“Say what?” I whispered.
“That you want this.” His voice was ragged, almost pleading. “That you want me.”
I swallowed. He was still the boy who had tried to break me. The one who’d sneered at me in the halls. Who’d told me my blood wasn’t good enough to mingle with his own. The one who’d pinned me down in the training yard, whispered threats in my ear.
But he was also the man who’d given his blood to save me. Who’d betrayed his house for me, gone up against Viktor for me. Who looked at me as if I was the only thing in the entire world and could tame whatever dark shadows tormented him.
And—gods help me—I wanted to. Wanted him.
“I want you,” I breathed.
The growl that rumbled out of him was dragonlike, making my knees weak. His hand came up, tracing the slope of my neck, brushing over my bare shoulder, featherlight. His fingers were warm. His fangs flashed when he smiled down.
“You’re mine, Pendragon,” he murmured. “Always have been. Even when you hated me.”
“Who said I still don’t?” My voice was a whisper against the heat of his mouth.
He chuckled. “That’s the spirit, little dragon. Keep fighting me every step of the way. It only makes it taste all the sweeter when you finally surrender.”
“You so sure I’m going to?” I said, breathless now, the way my body was beginning to ignite becoming impossible to ignore.
He tilted his head, lips barely brushing mine. “You already have.”
I closed my eyes, barely able to think straight, trying to grasp on to whatever sliver of sense I had left.
