Chapter 25
BLAKE
You look happy,” I observed, tousling Pendragon’s hair. “I never knew you hated Kage so much.”
She looked at me in surprise. “I don’t hate Kage …” Then she saw my grin. “Why, you—” she exclaimed, punching me playfully on the arm. “I’m happy Florence isn’t going to be trapped in a loveless arrangement, that’s all.”
Loveless. The word hung in the air between us for a moment.
“So my place or yours?” Pendragon finally said.
“If Florence comes back and doesn’t find you, will she be, you know, mad or hurt or worried?”
“So much concern for Florence tonight,” she teased. “Who knew so much softness was hiding under that hard exterior?”
I felt my cheeks heat. “She’s your friend, so she’s under my protection.”
Pendragon smiled. “I know. And I love that. Anyways, Florence should be fine. She’ll know I’m with you if I’m not in our room.” She laughed. “She’ll probably stay up all night working on her essay. It’s all she could talk about when we were leaving.”
“Good. Come to mine, then.” I slung my arm around her shoulders as we walked down the hall, then pulled her in tighter and kissed the top of her head.
“What was that for?”
“For being you,” I said gruffly. “I missed you.”
“We see each other almost every day,” she said with a breathless laugh, but she looked pleased.
I tucked her hand into the crook of my elbow as we walked down the quiet corridors, the ballroom music fading into the background.
Every few steps, Pendragon would nudge my hip playfully with hers.
I’d answer by brushing my knuckles down the inside of her wrist.When we reached the Drakharrow Tower, I pulled her up the stairs, taking them two at a time, her laughter trailing behind me.
Inside, I shrugged out of my jacket, throwing it onto a chair, and turned back towards her.
Our eyes met. My hand rose, brushing a curl from her cheek.
She leaned into the touch, as I traced the dusting of freckles along her jaw.
When our mouths found each other, the world shrank away.
There was nothing but this—our lips and the intake of breath.
Pendragon’s palms flattened over my chest while I angled closer, tasting the faint tang of wine still lingering on her lips.
I nipped, featherlight, at her lower lip.
She sighed, parting her mouth, inviting me in.
Heat flared between us. I cradled the back of her head, threading my fingers through the mass of red curls as I drew her nearer.
Our bodies aligned, pressing together with eagerness.
I kicked the door shut behind us with my heel.
“Lock it,” she breathed.
I grinned, moving to slide the latch home.
No interruptions. Then I was back, holding her, feeling her hands fumble for the buttons of my shirt.
She made quick work of it, her palms leaving traces of heat wherever they touched me.
Then she dragged my shirt free from my trousers, her nails scraping greedily over my stomach.
I shivered. “Bloodmaiden, Pendragon.”
“Say my name.”
“Your name?”
“Yes. My real name.” Her green eyes gleamed playfully.“Just once.”
I remembered when she’d told me not to call her by her given name. I’d respected it. Pendragon had taken on a life of its own. I’d come to love the sound, the taste of the word.
“Medra,” I breathed against her lips. I kissed the syllables along the curves of her throat. “Medra, there is nothing I won’t do for you. Nothing I won’t give you.”
There was more I wanted to say—three small words specifically. But I was scared. Afraid I’d overwhelm her. Afraid she wouldn’t say them back. Most of all, afraid she’d run.
“Then, give me everything,” she whispered. “Right now.”
My fangs lengthened with enthusiasm, throbbing with need.
I grazed them gently over the spot where her shoulder met her neck, silently asking the question.
She turned her head slightly, granting me better access; the answer was yes.
I bit down deeply, and she arched against me with a cry.
Her taste flooded my mouth—rich and heady and full of power.
I lifted her, carrying her over to the bed as I drank, her fingers tightening on my bare back, her breathing even and trusting.
Her black gown pooled like ink as I laid her down, breaking away from her neck for a moment as I stripped her dress off, the shimmering fabric sliding down freckled curves until it gathered at her waist.
“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” I whispered, bending over her to suck one perfect red nipple. She gasped as it puckered in my mouth. I stroked her other breast, so soft, so full and lush. “You want this, don’t you? For me to fuck you, fill you, feed from you?”
“Yes,” she breathed. She writhed her hips, grinding them against me. “Do it. Don’t hold back.”
I pushed the skirt down the rest of the way, laying her bare, and tossing the silken fabric halfway across the room.
I could smell her scent, sense the wetness pooling between her thighs.
She was all dark heat and rich, lush blood.
She was everything I’d ever wanted. Everything I never believed I deserved.
I still didn’t deserve her, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t going to claim her if she’d let me.
I lowered my mouth, tasting the hollow of her throat, feeling the delicate tremble of her pulse beneath the skin.
As she arched, nails sliding across my shoulder blades, I gasped—the dragon inside me rose.
It started tickling beneath my ribs. Then it flared, red and ravenous, spreading like fire through my veins.
Scales spread across my forearms, gleaming just above where her hands roamed.
In the low light, she didn’t seem to notice, but I felt ridges forming as the beast in me tested the limits of my skin.
Down, I commanded. She’s mine. Not yours. Mine.
But the command bounced uselessly inside my head. The red dragon never spoke back, only a darker hunger pressed forward—demanding and possessive. A draconic grin spread over my face. I flipped Pendragon over on the bed.
She gasped in surprise but wriggled her hips. “Is that how you want it?”
“Mmm,” my dragon murmured.“Hold onto the bed.” I lifted her hands, placing them on the wooden surface, then gripped her hips tightly, rougher than I’d ever touched her before, dragging her flush against my body, letting her feel my hardness.
She moaned, and I sensed the dragon purr, utterly delighted by her eagerness.
This is how we take a mate.
I froze. Then shuddered, fighting as if for air, willing the scales to fade, praying Pendragon wouldn’t open her eyes and see them. They rippled, half obeying. Then the beast moved, commanding my body like a hand inside a glove. My hips rolled forward, and I slid inside her.
Sensation overwhelmed me, powerful and intoxicating. I cried out, driving myself into her hard. Except it wasn’t me. It was him.
Pendragon gasped as I thrust again, rocking against her hips. Her hair hung like a heavy scarlet curtain around her shoulders. I pushed it aside, kissing her back.
“Harder,” she begged, her voice raspy with need.
Something inside me snarled in agreement. My grip tightened, bruises blooming beneath my thumbs. Medra only arched, crying out my name like a prayer in the Sanctum.
She wants me, the dragon hissed.
She wants me, not you, I snarled back. Me, not the monster wearing my shape.
The dragon laughed and gave an answering thrust that was anything but gentle.
“Gods, Blake, what are you doing to me?” Beads of sweat pearled over her neck. Stray curls stuck damp against her skin.
My dragon pushed the curls away, then licked Pendragon’s nape, the tang of salt sliding over my tongue.
I brushed my lips along the column of her throat, my fangs sliding into the skin just below her left ear before I’d even realized the dragon had bared them.
I tried to force them back down, but my desire and the beast blurred together.
I slid my hands beneath her, cupping her breasts.
Pendragon’s gasp became a broken moan. Her blood raced through our veins—the dragon’s thirst and her answering pleasure going round and round like a carousel until the room began to blur.
Enough, I roared. But the command was futile.
The dragon drank deeper, thrust again and again, more and more roughly, tugging her hips against his, staking his claim. His mouth was greedy at her throat, drinking too deep.
“Touch yourself,” my dragon commanded.
She moaned, thrusting her hips back towards me and sliding one hand between her legs to stroke her clit, oblivious of the welts on her hips, of the hurt I’d already caused her body.
My hands slid higher as she touched herself, wrapping around her throat, squeezing, choking.
Her knuckles tightened as she clutched the bed frame onehanded, and I sensed her arousal increase.
“Blake!” she gasped hoarsely through the vise my dragon had wrapped around her, and I groaned, low and deep, as my seed spilled inside her. We climaxed together.
Stop. Stop now. I felt panicked, desperate. Pendragon’s pulse was fluttering under my mouth. A distant part of me realized it was slowing. I tried to tear myself away, but the dragon clamped down harder.
Somewhere beyond the haze in my head, the pounding in my skull, I heard furniture splinter.
My body seized up, swaths of scarlet bursting from my shoulder blades, filling the room with a rush of wings.
Shelves crashed from the walls, books and ornaments smashing to the floor.
I heard the shattering of glass as one wing hit a window, sending the pane flying from the frame.
Pendragon moaned beneath me, still lost in the haze of pleasure and sensation, as the dragon drank, his thirst for her unquenchable.
I felt the precise moment everything tipped.
My hands squeezed, my fangs pulled blood from her veins, and her pulse …
stuttered. I caught sight of my reflection in the broken mirror across from the bed.
My eyes were burning red. My hands were covered in scales as they grasped Pendragon’s slender throat.
I.Am. Going.To. Fucking. Destroy.You, I snarled. Let. Her. Go! With a surge of my own will, I wrenched the dragon back, ripping my fangs free.
“Pendragon,” I gasped. “Medra!”
Her body slumped forward over the headboard. I pulled her into my arms, turning her over and gathering her close. She sagged against me, lips parted, eyes dimming. Her breathing was shallow. Her skin was cold and pale.
“Stay with me,” I whispered, my voice breaking as I cradled her, my wings sweeping back and forth in desperation, sending gusts of wind through the room. “Stay with me. Please, don’t leave me.”
Her head lolled against my arm, as I pressed trembling fingers to her throat, feeling her pulse, faint but there.
I had no healing draft. Knew no curative spells.
I had only myself. Only instinct. Lowering my head, I slashed my fangs along my own wrist, scarlet beads welling.
I willed the healing power of my kind to the surface, stretching it out between us like a fragile golden thread.
Tilting her head, I let my blood drip into her mouth, gently touching my fingertips to her throat and willing her to swallow.
“Come on, Pendragon. Take it. Take me.”
Crimson drops slid over her tongue one after the other. I held myself there, for one agonizing heartbeat after another, pouring everything from me into her, not caring how much it took.
Finally, she coughed, her lashes flickering. I pressed my thumb to her pulse, feeling an answer beneath my fingertips. She gave a thin, ragged breath, then another. Relief crashed over me. I let out a raw cry, holding her gently against my chest, my wings spreading out around us like a cloak.
“I love you,” I whispered. “I love you, and I’m so fucking sorry. I will never hurt you again. Never betray you. Do you hear me?”
But I knew she didn’t. Would I have said the words if I knew she would?
Her lashes fluttered, but she didn’t open her eyes.
Maybe it was for the best. I couldn’t bear to have her see me this way, still in the shape of a monster.
I bowed my head, heart hardening, the weight of guilt crushing and unbearable.
Then I wrapped her carefully in blankets and laid her back on the bed.
A chill wind blew through the broken window.
I pulled the curtains down and tied them over the hole as best I could.
I willed my wings back into my body, every muscle tensing as I forced myself to shift.
Pain wracked my frame as bones cracked and realigned.
But the pain had changed. It was less agony and more intensity.
I gritted my teeth, clenching my jaw as my body convulsed, wings furling back inside in a strange and terrible way.
The dragon wasn’t fighting me now—maybe because he had gotten what he wanted. If so, it would be the last time.
I crept out into the hall, pulling the door shut behind me, Rodriguez’s book tucked under my arm. I’d come within a heartbeat of killing the woman I loved. The one who meant more to me than anyone else in this entire godsforsaken world.
Now I was going to end this, end him. Even if it killed me.