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“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.