Page 66 of Tempest of Wrath and Vengeance

"I don't need you, Theon," she said in a too sweet tone.

His darkness was curling loosely around her ankle, and he was close enough to see the goosebumps appear on her flesh. From here he could also see the dark circles starting under her eyes that told him she was getting as much sleep as he was lately.

"You don't think you need me?" he countered. "Did you not make me your Source?"

Her laugh was an eerie lilt. “If I needed to replace a Source, I'm sure I could find one. Isn’t that what is done in Devram?”

"You are powerful, Tessa. You need a powerful Source."

"Do I?"

"Why wouldn't you need a Source?"

That pointed smile returned as she uncrossed her legs. It was only then that he realized there was an equally deep slit up the other side of the dress, and he glimpsed the gold dagger strapped to her upper thigh.

"Did you really come here armed?" he asked, shock rippling through him.

"Don't act surprised," she scoffed. "I did tell you I was going to kill you. You are the foolish one for coming hereunarmed."

He took a step forward on instinct. No one threatened him. It had been beaten into him for so long. All threats were met immediately with a show of power, and his hand was already coming up to reach for her throat.

Until he found he couldn't move it.

He looked down, finding a thread of light wound around his wrist.

In disbelief, he brought his eyes back to her, where her smile had turned coy. A vicious yank of her power wrenched his arm behind his back. When she did the same with his other arm, he gritted his teeth.

“You don’t scare me, Tessa,” he ground out.

She gave him a mocking pout. “I really, really should, Theon,” she replied, and as she slid gracefully from the desk, her power yanked again.

Caught off guard, he fell to his knees. With their drastic height differences, he was still level with her torso from this vantage point, and when he looked up at her, he found she held that gold dagger in her hand.

“Is this the part where you kill me, clever tempest?” he asked, holding her stare. He couldn’t read her emotions. He’d never been able to, and she still had their bond solidly blocked. He knew the only way to get those shields to slip was to make her lose a little control, and he knew all too well how to push her to that state.

“Silly boy,” she chided, idly twirling the handle of the dagger in her fingers. “I can’t kill you yet.”

“And why is that?”

She reached out, sliding her fingers into his hair, and damn it all, he leaned into her touch, the bond leaping at the first physical contact with her in weeks. Then her grip tightened, yanking his head back. She leaned in so close he felt every word she spoke on his lips.

“I told your father I would be the downfall of his bloodline and that I would let him witness it all before I killed him. I keep my promises, Theon.”

At his name, she allowed her lips the barest touch against his, and he jerked against his restraints, wanting desperately to pull her closer. Make that kiss harder. Remind her he was the only one who could give her what she needed.

But she released her hold on his hair, taking a step back and leaving him wanting more. Always wanting more from her.

“How’s Felicity?” she asked casually.

He started at the sudden change in subject. “What? Why would I know that?”

“Because she’s your Match,” she said simply, moving around the desk. Her fingertips brushed along the surface, that dagger still in hand.

“That I never wanted.”

She paused, looking over her shoulder at him. “How ironic.”

And yeah, he could see the irony of that statement. That she had been forced into something she hadn’t wanted, had resisted as much as he was resisting this Match arrangement.

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