Page 28

“Pendragon,” Blake hissed.

I tried another door. Occupied. This time full of groups of blightborn, working on some kind of a map project involving lots and lots of paint and papier-maché. Another full of First Years, sitting in a circle all holding the same book as Hassan droned on about highblood history.

“Ugh.”

“Pendragon, what the hell?”

I ignored him. Then, finally, I found one. The door swung open into an empty lecture hall. Long wooden benches curved in rows around a central platform with a large wooden desk. The air was full of dust and shadows. Filtered light streamed through high arched windows, clouded with dirt on one side and snow on the other. But it was empty. I breathed a sigh of relief. Perfect.

I grabbed Blake’s wrist and yanked him inside, then slammed the door shut behind us and flicked the lock.

“What are you—” he started.

I didn’t let him finish. My lips were on his in a heartbeat. Hard. Fierce. Reckless. His back hit the nearest wall, and I moved against him, hands in his hair, my teeth tugging at his lower lip. I didn’t want slow. I didn’t want careful. I wanted to devour and be devoured. I wanted to feel something. Something so powerful, so overwhelming, it would make everything on the other side of that fucking door completely vanish. At least for a while.

And when Blake kissed me back—it did. Everything else disappeared. All that remained was fire. All that remained was us.

My fingers were already attacking the laces of the sleeveless leather tunic he had on, yanking at them as if they’d personally wronged me somehow. Blake’s breath hitched as I tore the leather over his shoulders. There was a thin shirt beneath separating me from his bare skin, but I could still feel the heat of his body, smell the scent of his skin. So close, so fucking close. I reached for it; his hand caught my wrist. For a second, Blake looked at me and I saw confusion there, hesitation. His eye flickered. I thought I glimpsed red behind the gray.

Then the impossible moment passed and he was on me again.

His mouth collided with mine, running his hands through my hair, pushing me backwards, up one step, then another, until my hips hit the desk on the center of the platform. I arched into him, his hands already clawing at the lacings of my leather corset. It was a simple kind—worn for sparring, the lightest kind of armor. I’d known I’d be fighting hand to hand today, not using heavy weapons.

Blake tugged the cords, swearing impatiently under his breath, while simultaneously yanking the knots undone with ruthless efficiency. Finally the corset fell open, and I let out a heaving breath. The leather was soft and wellworn. It was tight-fitting but comfortable; I hadn’t bothered wearing anything underneath.

“Gods,” Blake rasped, staring at my naked body as the corset dropped away. “That’s all you wore to class?”

I grinned darkly, breathlessly. “Are you going to lecture me about it?”

His hands were all over me then. Hot, greedy, desperate. I slipped his own cotton shirt off him and felt him beneath my hands, reveling in the warmth of his skin. He was trembling, I realized, something stirring in him beneath the surface.

I’d lit the spark. There was no going back now.

Whatever this was between us was dangerous, and we both knew it. But I was sick of resisting. Sick of pretending. Sick of denying myself what I truly wanted. When what I truly wanted was him. This man—this vampire—had promised me everything. Anything. He’d promised to kill for me. But maybe all he had to do was give me himself.

I slid a hand between us, stroking him over the leather, feeling the hard length of him. “I feel so fucked-up, Blake,” I whispered.

He nodded tightly. “I know the feeling. You think this will help?”

I let out a sound somewhere between a giggle and a hiccup. “What the hell? It’s worth a shot.”

His lips descended onto mine as his hands slid over my breasts. I moaned, searching for the lacings of my own leather trousers and starting to pull them loose. His hands covered mine. His one good eye met mine. Stormy and clouded with need.

“Let me.” His voice was raw.

Blake undid the laces, then worked the leather down my hips, as if he’d done it a thousand times before. As they reached my ankles, I kicked them off with a grunt of impatience. Blake reached for his own, unfastening the ties and pulling the training gear off. He hadn’t stopped trembling. I wasn’t sure what the hell was going on, but I wasn’t going to ask; his aggression seemed barely leashed but at least it wasn’t directed at me. Besides, I had my own fury to contain. Better we attack each other than go on a rampage in Sankara’s class.

Leather dropped to the ground in a heap. A linen undershirt followed. We’d kicked off our boots long ago. I took him in: Blake’s body was incredibly beautiful. Perfectly shaped in every way. Pale blond hair curling down over his neck, basically chinlength at this point. He raised his hands to push it back off his face, and the black dragon tattoos painted over his skin rippled as his muscles flexed. I followed the lines of ink down his torso, eying the pale hairs that formed a line down his stomach, past his hips … My throat felt dry as I took him in.

He grinned. “See something you like?”

I met his eye. Heat. Clawing urgency. We crashed back together, flint striking tinder.

He lifted me, hands rough, breath harsh, then slammed me assdown on the desk, scattering a tower of parchment to the floor. He leaned into me, grinding his hardness against my core as I gasped his name.

“Want me to stop?” he growled.

I swallowed. “If you stop, I won’t be held responsible for your death.” I started to slide a hand between us to stroke his cock and bring it closer to where I wanted it, but his hand gripped mine with an irontight grip.