Chapter 7
Jaxon
I hold on to Flint as tightly as I can, relishing the feel of him holding on to me the same way. I try to fight the tears burning the backs of my eyes, try to beat them away with sheer will alone. But I’ve done that so many times in the last few months that it doesn’t work anymore.
Instead, they keep leaking from the corners of my eyes, dampening Flint’s shirt and making me feel like even more of an ass. It’s bad enough that my being here is a sore spot with the other dragon clans. Now I’ve gone and vandalized the training room for the entire Dragon Guard.
It wasn’t on purpose, but knowing that doesn’t make me feel any better. In fact, it makes me feel even more like an ass. Yet another thing I’ve failed at.
When I finally get the damn tears under control, I move back just far enough to look into Flint’s eyes. They’re beautiful—light brown with tiny gold flecks—and I want nothing more than to stay right here, like this, forever.
“Are you really all right?” he asks, sliding a tender hand over my hair.
“Yeah.” I glance down at the mess I made of myself. “It’s more annoying than anything else. I need another shower.”
“How’s the side?”
“It’d be better if your best friend hadn’t just knocked the shit out of it with a staff.” I snort as I make my way to the bathroom.
He follows me, his gaze roaming over me as I take my shirt off. I’d like to think it’s because he likes what he sees, but the frown on his face tells me all too clearly that he’s checking out the damage.
“I’m fine,” I tell him as I reach in and switch on the shower, trying to ignore the feeling of déjà vu that washes over me. Then again, we were in this position just a couple of hours ago.
It makes me feel stuck. Makes me wonder if Flint feels the same way.
“The gunshot wound doesn’t look any worse,” he says after pulling the bandage off. “But it doesn’t look any better, either.”
I know what he’s getting at, but I ignore it. I don’t have the energy to fight about it, not after the day I’ve had. “I told you, that’s because Eden just split it wide open.”
Flint’s jaw flexes, but he doesn’t say anything else. Just goes to the linen closet and pulls out another towel for me. I hang it on a nearby hook, then finish getting undressed before stepping into the shower.
The hot water hits me like a much-needed balm. My whole body relaxes, so even the little shocks of pain that come when the water hits my many cuts barely register.
“So tell me what your dad wanted that was so urgent,” I say as I duck my head under the water. “Did he chew you a new asshole over the fight?”
“Something like that.” Flint sounds distracted, and when I open my eyes, I realize it’s because he’s watching me. Not with the concerned, assessing gaze from earlier but with one that’s all dragon. All predator.
I meet his eyes through the glass, let a little of my own predator shine through.
He stands up straighter, tongue darting out to wet his lips and hands flexing by his sides, like he’s trying really hard not to touch something.
Too bad that’s exactly what I want him to do—as long as I’m the something he’s touching.
We haven’t spoken enough. Not about our argument from earlier, not about what Eden said to me in the training center, and definitely not about what Aiden wanted to talk about.
But right now I don’t give a fuck. The rest of the Dragon Court—the rest of the world—can take care of itself for a little while. I want to hold my boyfriend. More, I want him to hold me.
So, I let my eyes wander down his body the same way he’s letting his coast over mine. And when our gazes meet again, I arch a brow and give him a look that’s half challenge and half invitation.
It’s all the encouragement Flint needs.
He kicks off his shoes, then wrenches open the shower door and steps inside without bothering to take off any of his clothes.
And then he’s right there, his tall, powerful body pressed against mine.
“Anxious much?” I ask.
He grins. “You have no idea.”
And then he’s grabbing onto my hips as his mouth crashes down on mine. I open willingly, my arms twining around his neck as he nips at my lower lip.
I nip back, making sure the tip of my fang catches the edge of his lip. Seconds later, a drop of blood wells in the corner of his mouth.
The rich earthiness of it fills my senses, has my mouth watering and my body craving. I dart my tongue out, slowly lick the blood away. He watches me the whole time with eyes firing with need.
So, I do it again, biting harder this time before I swallow him down. The rich, potent taste of the blood—of Flint’s blood—of Flint—nearly brings me to my knees.
He must feel it, too, because he moans deep in his throat, his hands coming up to tangle in my hair and pull me closer, closer, closer.
“You smell so good,” he mutters as he presses warm, hungry kisses over my cheekbone, across my jaw, down my neck to the pulse there beating fast and heavy.
This time it’s his teeth that scrape against my skin, and I feel it all the way to my soul.
I arch back, offering myself to him, and his laugh is a low, deep rumble against my ear.
Then he’s dropping kisses at the hollow of my throat, sucking a line of bruises over my collarbone, and licking his way—slowly, surely, sensually—back up to my lips.
The moment his mouth claims mine, I jerk against him. My hands clench at his shoulders, my leg wraps around his, and my lips—my hungry, desperate lips—part to take him in.
That’s all it takes to have him growling low in his throat. To have his hands clenching in my hair and his denim-clad legs moving restlessly against my own.
His tongue sweeps out, tangling with mine. And this time, it’s my turn to groan. My turn to press closer.
Because this kiss—like all kisses with Flint—is everything.
Stars explode behind my eyes. Fireworks burst all around us. Hearts circle me like I’m some kid with his first crush.
Every cliché there is, every timeworn description of want, need, gotta have, explodes within me all at once.
Hunger has my fangs dropping down as every cell in my body calls for him. Because I’m weak and hungry and desperately in love, I’m so, so tempted to give in.
I shove his sodden shirt up and out of the way. I scrape my teeth along the muscled curve of his shoulder, across the thick plane of his chest and then up, up, up to his jugular, which calls to me like a siren.
“Fuck, yes,” Flint moans as he drops his head to the side.
I tell myself to stop, tell myself to let him go. But he feels so good, smells so good, that I can’t. Instead, I promise myself just a taste as I slowly, carefully pierce his warm, brown skin.
Just a few drops. Just—
Flint cries out as his blood floods my mouth in one perfect, delicious rush. I swallow it down, savoring every sweet, sweet drop. Then I force myself to pull away,
“No!” Flint gasps out, his fingers burrowing deeper in my hair. Tugging harder, until tiny pinpricks of pain fill my scalp and slide sensually along my nerve endings.
“Please,” he begs. “I want… I need… Jaxon, please. I—”
The last is a high, keening cry, and it shatters the resolve that’s kept me from this—from him—for months. I rear back, then plunge deep, my fangs tearing through his skin and sinking straight into his carotid artery.
The first full pulse of blood rushes through me like a dozen shots of adrenaline. His taste—rich, earthy, full of life and laughter—fills my mouth. I swallow him down, savoring every drop.
And then I drink more and more and more.
Flint gasps out my name, his body shuddering in ecstasy as I bite deeper, suck harder, drink in longer and longer swallows.
His blood fills me up in ways I didn’t know it was possible to be filled. Even before Flint moves restlessly against me.
One hand cradles the back of my head, keeping my mouth—my fangs—in place, while the other skims over my chest and down my abdomen.
A million points of light explode behind my eyelids.
A million pricks of pleasure slide along my every nerve ending.
A million emotions fill me up to overflowing.
Suddenly, I’m the one gasping and shaking. The one begging for more. And Flint gives it to me.
He gives everything to me, and I give everything right back. Until the world around us ceases to exist and all that matters is this one perfect moment. Until I become him and he becomes me and we become everything.