Page 44

“I’ll admit it,” I said slowly. “I’ll admit I’m yours.” I didn’t dare open my eyes. But I could hear Blake’s breath catch—just slightly. I let the pause stretch, made him wait for it. “If,” I continued, “you’ll admit you’re mine.”

I felt him go very still. I opened my eyes. Blake’s gaze drilled into mine, not moving, not blinking.

Then, slowly, he smiled. A guileless smile that had no malice, no cruelty, only certainty. “All you ever had to do,” he said as my heart flew to my throat, “was ask.” Blake leaned down, his hands flat on the door behind me, imprisoning me. His mouth brushed my ear. “I’m yours, Pendragon. Every brutal, broken piece. If you want me.”

I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move.

“And you’re mine, here, now, forever,” he whispered, brushing his fangs lightly along my throat. Teasing me. Promising me.

His hand gripped my thigh, yanking it up against his waist, pinning me even tighter against the door. I could feel his body, hot and hard against me, even through the trousers he still wore.

I shivered. “Prove it,” I whispered.

The bite wasn’t gentle. It was a claim. Merciless and possessive. I gasped, gripping the front of his shirt, yanking him closer against me as his fangs anchored his mouth to my skin. The pain was sharp for an instant, then melted into pleasure. Pure need. Blake moaned against my neck as he drank, and the sound went straight to my core. When he finally lifted his head, my blood slick on his lips, I stared at him with nothing but longing, dazed from his fangs, drunk on the intimacy of what we were doing.

“You’re playing with fire, Black Prince,” I warned him. But my voice was unsteady.

His eye gleamed. “Fire’s the only thing that can forge something worth keeping—though, you’re already priceless to me, Pendragon.”

He was on me before I could form an answer, lifting me off the floor, carrying me to the bed. I didn’t resist. I couldn’t. He laid me down, following me onto the mattress, bracing his weight on his elbows so he didn’t crush me.

“You’re mine,” he repeated, snarling against my mouth as he kissed me, fangs grazing my lips, my chin, the line of my throat. “Say it.”

I gasped as he raked a hand up my thigh, bunching the silk fabric of my nightdress at my hips. “You’re mine,” I shot back.

He laughed in delight, then caught my lower lip between his teeth. “You’re damned right I am, Pendragon.” He shifted, sliding the nightdress higher, tracing the inside of my thigh with practiced fingers. “Say it again.”

I arched up into him, gasping. “You’re mine.”

He growled, and the sound vibrated through my whole body, reminding me of Nyxaris. “Say it like you mean it, little dragon.”

My hands shot up, grabbing his hair, dragging him down closer until there was no space left between us. My mouth crashed onto his, desperate and hungry. “You’re mine, Blake Drakharrow,” I breathed against his lips. “And may all the gods of your world and mine help you if you ever try to forget it.”

His laugh rumbled against my skin. “I wouldn’t dare. Not in this life. Nor in the next.”

I froze at the words, trying not to think about them too closely. And then he was kissing me back, as if tattooing me with his lips, branding himself into my blood, my bones, my every breath. I clawed at his shirt, yanking it up, feeling the ripple of muscle underneath, the heat of his skin. Blake tore it off, tossing it aside carelessly. His fangs grazed my throat again, teasing, promising. I gasped, raking my nails down his chest, feeling the way his muscles tensed under my touch. His mouth crashed into mine again, but I pushed him back, hands against his chest, surprising him. He let me move him, pressing him down until he was seated at the edge of the bed. Sliding off Blake, I stood in front of him, watching his face as I slid the other thin strap of my nightdress from my shoulder. The fabric slid down my body, pooling around my feet.

Blake’s eye darkened, his jaw tightening with barely contained restraint. “Pendragon,” he warned, his voice gritty and raw.

But I was done with warnings. Done with games. The same feeling of being about to explode—the reckless desire to throw caution to the wind and burn everything down that had led me to drag Blake into an empty classroom the other day—was upon me again, urging me on, encouraging me to trade rationality for rebellion. I wondered if Blake could feel it, too, that sense of snapped restraint.

I knelt before him. His breath hissed out from between his teeth.

“My Black Prince,” I murmured, sliding my hands along his thighs. They were taut, lean, muscular, like every part of him. I reached for the front of his trousers, unfastening them slowly, savoring the sight of him struggling for control. He lifted his hips to help me, and I tugged the fabric down, freeing him. He was hard and beautiful and mine. All mine. I wrapped my fingers around him, and a low, guttural groan slipped from his throat. Slowly, I leaned in, pressing a kiss to the flushed tip of his cock, tasting the bead of arousal there.

Blake’s hands clenched the sheets at his sides, knuckles white. “Pendragon,” he rasped, “you don’t have to …”

But I wanted to. Gods, how desperately I wanted to.

I ran my tongue along the length of him, savoring the way he shuddered, the way his body trembled. He was barely holding onto restraint. Then, without mercy, I took him into my mouth. Blake’s breath left him in a ragged gasp. One of his hands shot out, burying itself in my hair. I moved slowly at first, hollowing out my cheeks, sliding my mouth down his length, feeling the tension getting higher and higher.

Blake’s head fell backwards. “Fuck. You’re going to kill me, Pendragon,” he breathed.

I smothered a smile. Good. Let him suffer. Let him burn the way he always made me burn.

I dragged my mouth around him, swirling my tongue, then sliding back down. His hips jerked, fingers tightening in my hair. I drank in every broken sound he made, every strangled groan. Blake was losing it … and I loved every second of it.

“Pendragon,” he hissed, his voice wrecked and shaking. “I’m not going to last if you keep—oh, fuck.” His hand froze in my hair, but I didn’t stop. His free hand gripped the bed behind him, entire body taught, trembling. The muscles of his thighs quivered with the effort of holding himself back.