Chapter 11
MEDRA
I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling. I knew I should be studying. But instead here I was, not sleeping. Just … lying there.
Doing absolutely nothing useful. Nothing but thinking the same thoughts over and over.
The bed beside me was still empty. Florence was … well, who knew where she was? Maybe she was out flying on Nyxaris.
I felt a pang of envy as I imagined Florence on Nyxaris’s back, speaking to him as the wind blew through her hair.
The loss hurt a little. Still, I hoped that was what she was doing—I really, truly did.
I hoped she’d accepted the bond and let Nyxaris in.
But that didn’t mean I didn’t mourn any less the absence of what I’d started to forge with Nyxaris.
It could have been me—was supposed to be me—out there, riding Nyxaris, training him, learning from him.
Now I was a dragonless rider. If Regan and the others knew the truth, how gleeful they would be.
I turned over on my side, wrapping my arms around myself. It was past midnight. If I wasn’t going to study, I should try to sleep.
It was at times like these that I missed Orcades the most. One touch of the dagger and we’d have been deep in conversation. If I hadn’t used that dagger to stab Molindra, would my mother still be here now, with me? But if I hadn’t stabbed Molindra, would any of us be here at all?
I groaned. Why did my brain insist on replaying the worst memories and asking questions that had no real answers? I couldn’t change the past even if I wanted to. I’d done what I’d done: It was final. There was no going back. That was just life.
There was a knock at the door, and I nearly leaped out of my skin.
“Who is it?” I called.
When no one replied, I guessed the answer. One moment, my heart was in my throat.
The next, I was leaping off the bed and running to the door.
“Florence,” I exclaimed as I yanked it open. A wave of sadness hit me like a blow. “Oh.”
Blake watched my face fall. He grimaced but didn’t seem terribly offended. “Sorry to disappoint.”
I gazed up at him. “Not a disappointment. Just a surprise.”
He grinned, resting his forearms on either side of the doorframe and leaning in.
He wore a black buttonup shirt tucked into a pair of black fitted trousers.
A gold chain mimicking dragon scales hung around his neck.
He looked handsome and very puttogether.
In contrast, I’d literally just crawled out of bed.
I resisted the urge to touch a hand to my hair; I already knew my curls were wild and out of control.
“So? You going to let me in?” He tapped his foot with mock impatience. He looked tired but was evidently in a good mood.
I peered past him into the hall, which was thankfully quiet and empty. “How can you be here? I thought you said—”
“I know what I said,” he interrupted. “To hell with the rules, Pendragon. I wanted to see you.” His eyes burned into mine. “Fine. Not just wanted. Needed.”
My throat felt dry. It wasn’t fair how easily he did that. Made me breathless with even the hint of his want, turning my body boneless with desire.
I tried to get a grip. “Um, sure, come in, I guess.”
He raised an elegant eyebrow. “You guess? Your enthusiasm and graciousness are truly boundless.”
“I’m ever so sorry,” I said sarcastically. “Pardon me. I forgot I had the Black Prince himself on my doorstep.” I made a flourishing gesture. “Do come this way, Lord Drakharrow.”
Blake wrinkled his nose. “Please. Lord Drakharrow is my uncle.”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
He stepped inside and leaned down towards me. “The Black Prince will do nicely, however.”
I snorted, suddenly remembering something my mother had once said. “Seriously? You want me to call you that?”
“‘You want me to call you that, Your Highness?’” he corrected. He grinned wider as he saw my expression. “What? You don’t think I’m princely, Pendragon? Should I have worn more gold tonight?”
“You’re wearing too much as it is.” The words slipped out before I could stop them.
He laughed as I flushed red. “Oh ho! The truth comes out.” He whistled and looked me up and down. “I could say the same about you. It’d be a lie, though.”
I glanced down self-consciously at the silky black nightdress I’d worn to bed.
It had thin straps, barely covered my legs to midthigh, and was cut low in the front and back.
It was silly. Blake had seen me naked before, and yet suddenly I felt more exposed than ever.
I crossed my arms over my chest, which only had the unfortunate effect of making my breasts rise up out of the bodice even more.
Blake looked thrilled. He glanced from my breasts to my neck and licked his lips, showing a glimpse of sharp white fangs.
“You just fed from me a few days ago,” I pointed out.
“Yes, but with you, I’m always a starving man, Pendragon. My thirst is unquenchable.”
It was shameless flirtation. And it was working.
He stepped closer, reaching out a finger and running it over one silky shoulder strap. “I like this. It suits you. You should wear things like this more often.”
“Ah, yes, perhaps I’ll wear it down to the Avari common room tomorrow morning,” I quipped.
Blake’s eyes narrowed at the mention of House Avari, and for once it was my turn to smirk.
“What, you don’t think Kage would appreciate the style?
” I ran my hands slowly down the shimmering fabric that hugged my hips.
Blake growled low in his throat. “Mention his name again and I might have to remind you who you belong to.”
I tried to quell a shiver. Since when had Blake’s overly possessive tendencies stopped being infuriating and become a turnon? On second thought, did I really want the answer to that question?
I lifted my chin defiantly, the words on the tip of my tongue. Usually I’d say something like I don’t belong to anyone. Certainly not you, Blake Drakharrow. But … something had shifted. Still, I decided I’d play the game.
“Last I checked, little princeling, I didn’t belong to anyone—no matter what some self-deluded highbloods might believe. Certainly not to you, House Leader.”
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.”