Page 100

“Is it?” His hands moved to my waist. He leaned in, mouth brushing the side of my throat. Hardly a touch, barely a question. “Tell me more.”

“How can you …”

“How can I want you right now?” His voice was low, with a familiar wicked edge. “I will never stop wanting you, Pendragon. You’re lucky I didn’t lay you down on that boardroom table.”

I wanted to laugh but suddenly couldn’t breathe. “In front of the dwarves?” I managed to say.

“In front of all the fucking dwarves,” he murmured. “In front of everyone.” His gaze lifted to mine. “Would you have liked that? Me fucking you in public with everyone watching? Because I think the refectory is still open …”

My mind was spinning. Florence was gone. Nyxaris was gone. Florence was probably … I couldn’t let myself go there. If I did, I’d be lost. I pushed Blake back, needing space, and moved to lean against his desk.

“Stick to the plan, Pendragon. Don’t go there,” Blake said softly, watching me.

“I can’t help it,” I whispered. “It’s been days.”

“There is nothing you can do for her here, now, in this moment. You are exactly where you need to be. Trust the plan.”

There was a lump in my throat. “It’s so hard to believe that.”

“You could not have gone with Nyxaris. You are not his rider.” His voice was harsh. “Tell me you understand that.”

I jerked my head. “Yes. I do.” I knew I was torturing more than just myself, and I didn’t want that. I truly didn’t.

“Then, stop thinking about it.” He ran his hands through his hair.

“What did you learn about your mother?” I asked, knowing he was trying to redirect and trying to hide something all at the same time. Blake went very still. I looked him over. He was dressed simply tonight: white short-sleeved cotton shirt, no Drakharrow insignia, no Bloodwing crest. Black trousers that fit him perfectly and gave him what felt like an unfair advantage.

He caught me looking and raised a brow. “Like what you see?”

“Always,” I said simply. “You’re beautiful.”

Something hungry passed across his face. Not just desire. He needed to be seen as more than the tragedy he feared he still was. More than a disaster spinning out of control. Something in my heart clenched. “Keep feeding me lines like that and you might just get lucky tonight, Miss Pendragon,” he murmured.

The way he said my name made my pulse instantly jump. It was just a silly game, but the way he could suddenly dial up the authority was an immediate turnon. His eyes went to the desk like he’d just remembered something. I saw him half smile. Then he reached down, opened a drawer, and pulled out a pair of thin black glasses. He slid them on … and my lungs forgot how to breathe. “Since when do you wear glasses?” I choked.

He looked down his nose at me through the lenses, and I made a strangled sound. I didn’t know how he was doing it, but Blake made scholarly little glasses look practically obscene. “I suggest you watch that disrespectful tone, Miss Pendragon, or it’ll earn you a detention.”

He peeled his white shirt off, tossing it straight into the hamper. Because Professor Blake Drakharrow wasn’t the kind of man who left dirty clothes laying around on the floor. I licked my lips without thinking, and his gaze tracked the movement, like I was following a command he’d just given me. Shit.

“Careful, Miss Pendragon,” he said softly, a predatory look in his gray eyes. He tilted his head, and his glasses flashed in the lamp-light. “You’re distracting the class. Apologize. Now.”

“I beg your pardon. How rude of me.” Then I did it again, slower this time.

He crossed the space between us quickly. One moment I had air. The next, he was between my thighs, palms flat on the desk on either side of me, locking me in. He paused, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose with one finger, slowly and deliberately. I couldn’t take my eyes off him. “I think a lesson in discipline is in order, Miss Pendragon,” he murmured, his mouth grazing mine. “Say Yes, Professor Drakharrow.”

My breath caught. “Yes, Professor Drakharrow.”

His hands tangled in my hair, yanking my head back. I gasped. “Good girl,” he whispered. Then his fangs found my neck. I moaned, my body instantly filling up with heat. His body was flush against mine, and I could feel the length of his cock pressing hard against my stomach through his trousers as he drank. When he broke his fangs away, he was breathing hard. My blood rimmed his lips. “Now, why don’t you tell me what you need, Miss Pendragon.”

“What I need?” My voice cracked. “How about five minutes where it’s just you and me without all the world’s troubles breaking through?”

Something in his face softened slightly. Then it was gone, and he was back in control. “Then, you’re going to do exactly what I tell you, Miss Pendragon. You’re going to let me distract you.”

“That sounds like an order … sir,” I whispered.

His mouth brushed mine. “It absolutely is.” Then he kissed me properly. He took my mouth as if he meant to silence every spiraling thought in my head. I tasted my own blood on his lips, rich and metallic, mixing with the scent and taste of him. My hands fisted in his hair, and he made a low sound against my lips—approval, possession, relief.

Our bond might have been messy and just a little fucked up. But in the end, it was a beautiful thing. We fed each other. We nurtured each other. Not only one another’s bodies but one another’s souls. I knew Blake wasn’t going to tell me about his mother, not until after. So that meant it must be really bad. I knew he didn’t want to think about it right now. Like me, he needed a moment to breathe.