Page 101

My hands slid up his chest, over the hard line of his collarbone, to the back of his neck, holding him against me. Everything else was gone. There was only his mouth. The low sound of desire he made when I tugged him in closer. Sometimes we kissed sweet, and sometimes we kissed hungry. This was a hungry kiss. Sweet didn’t begin to describe it.

When Blake finally broke his mouth away, his hands slid under my ass, lifting me up from the desk and standing me up on the floor. It had been a good day to wear a knee-length dress, I thought hazily, as Blake’s hands skimmed over my thighs and up and over the curve of my ass. I wasn’t usually a dress kind of a girl, but today was the highblood meeting. I’d been thinking of Florence. I knew she’d have told me to dress to impress.

I watched Blake; he watched me watching him. “Eyes on me,” he commanded. “That’s an order.” He yanked off the little piece of black lace covering me and slid it to the floor, then exhaled hot breath over my sensitive flesh, sending goose bumps spreading over my skin. Firm hands steered me until my hips hit the edge of the desk again. Blake’s hands were moving under my dress, cupping my full breasts and toying with my nipples. His tongue slid over my center in a slow, long lick, and I gasped. “Hold onto the desk, Miss Pendragon,” he commanded, “because you’re about to come utterly undone.”

He probably wasn’t wrong about that, I decided. Then his wicked mouth swept over my pussy and pleasure erupted from my center. I could think about nothing else. I writhed, feeling him lapping up my wetness, his tongue buried inside me. Then he moved back, mouth trapping my clit between his lips and sucking as he slipped two fingers inside me.

“Oh, fuck,” I gasped.

“That’s Oh, fuck, Professor,” he murmured from between my legs. He rocked his mouth against me as he licked and sucked, fingers thrusting in and out.

A moment passed, then another, and then I was crying out, hands gripping the desk tight as I pushed back against Blake’s mouth, waves of white-hot pleasure exploding within me. He stood up, mouth moving to cover mine. I could taste my arousal on his lips, mixed with the fading taste of my blood.

“Everything about you is so fucking delicious,” he breathed against my lips.

The sound of him undoing his belt made the wetness pool between my thighs again.

“You’re wet for me again already, aren’t you, Miss Pendragon?” he demanded. I moaned, knowing he could smell me. He slipped a finger between my legs, gliding it over the moisture, and his eyes gleamed. “Just as I thought. Sopping wet for my cock.”

I whimpered in anticipation of the feeling of him between my legs. “Professor Drakharrow … please.”

“Patience, Miss Pendragon …” Then, “Shit.”

A cold feeling spiked through me. “Blake?”

His eyes had gone wide. They were redder than ever. “It’s happening.”

I looked down and I saw it: crimson scales spreading over his forearms like embers. His breathing was coming fast. His face had gone pale. I could see his composure cracking. “Shit,” he said again, his voice full of panic. “I can feel it. I don’t know if I can—”

“Yes, you can,” I snapped. “Keep it together just a moment longer. You can do that. Come with me.” I slid off the desk, quickly grabbing one of Blake’s sweaters from a drawer. It was long enough to cover at least the tops of my thighs. I grabbed his hand, desperately trying to ground him. “Follow me, Professor.”

His gaze was hopeful. “What? Where?”

“Roof. Now.”

I pulled him out into the hallway and up the spiral stairs. We passed a few students who stared at my unconventional attire and Blake’s bare chest. A few whispers followed us, but I didn’t care. I knew I couldn’t let Blake lose control inside the tower.

We burst through the rooftop door and out into air so cold it stole my breath. Around us, the ocean sprawled, dark and endless. Blake staggered behind me. He braced both hands on his knees, breathing hard. Then his shoulders jerked. Behind him, huge shadows unfurled as wings, large and crimson, snapping out suddenly with a force that pushed the air away in a gust. My hair whipped into my face. I gasped, stumbling, then steadied myself.

Blake lifted his head. His eyes burned red, but his gaze was focused. Controlled. The glasses were still on his face, which should have been absurd but somehow wasn’t. Professor Drakharrow standing on a rooftop with wings and scholarly spectacles.

“How do you feel?” I demanded.

He swallowed hard and straightened up, his wings flexing like they’d always been there. I couldn’t take my eyes off them. They were immense—and beautiful.

“I feel good,” he rasped. “I think … I think I can stop like this. I don’t have to change all the way.”

“But do you want to?” I asked. Because the truth was, I didn’t want him to stop any of it. He looked raw, stripped down—but also sure of himself in a way that made me proud.

His gaze slid over my body like a caress, and I shivered despite the sweater I was wearing. “I want you,” he said simply. “I won’t hurt you.” His voice was hard as iron. “Do you believe that?”

I stepped closer until the wind couldn’t wedge itself between us. Heat radiated off his body. The red of his wings contrasted against the black sky like a burning banner. “I believe you. I know you will never hurt me.” I rose on my toes and kissed him.

He shuddered like I’d just given him permission. Then his hands found my waist, tight but careful, like he didn’t trust his own strength. The kiss turned deeper, hotter, hungry enough that I felt my knees going weak. Blake’s wings twitched behind him, reacting to the kiss like another set of nerves. I suddenly wondered how they’d feel to touch, to run my hands over.

Blake pulled back a fraction, mouth hovering over mine as his hands found the hem of the sweater I wore and yanked it over my head.

“Are we really doing this here?” I breathed.