Page 16 of The Blood Moon Oath

“Go ahead,” he murmurs, his breath hot against my ear, sending a shiver racing down my spine. His lips are so close that I can feel every word, each one dripping with dark promise. “Struggle. Fight me. I like a challenge.”

His grin deepens, feral and wicked, as he presses just a little closer, the hard planes of his body brushing againstmine in a way that makes my breath hitch. “Mark me, kitten,” he dares, his voice a low growl that seems to reverberate through my very core. “Scratch me. Claw me. Do your worst. I want to feel those sharp little nails of yours dig into me.”

He reaches out, brushing a knuckle along my jaw, so light it feels like a tease. “Go on,” he taunts. “Leave your mark. Show me just how wild you really are.”

My hands tremble even pinned above me still, fury and something hotter boiling inside me. I want to rake my nails down his chest, tear through that maddening grin, but the worst part—the part I hate most—is how much my body responds to his challenge. My palms itch to touch him, to lash out, but the heat curling through me is so intense, I can barely focus on anything else.

His grin widens as he tilts his head, exposing his neck. “What’s the matter, kitten? Too scared to leave a mark? Or are you afraid you’ll like it too much?”

I swallow hard, my pulse thundering in my ears as his words dig under my skin, igniting something I don’t understand and don’t want to. My nails curl into my palms, but his scent wraps around me, making my head spin.

“Come on,” he goads, his voice softer now, like a wicked lullaby. “Show me your claws, kitten. Don’t disappoint me.”

The heat of his body pressing against me, the power thrumming between us, and his dark, tempting challenge are suffocating. My heart pounds, my anger and desire warring as I fight to stay in control, but the way he looks at me—with equal parts hunger and amusement—has me teetering on the edge.

My breath comes in shallow bursts. My thighs clench together, and I feel a wetness between my legs that I can’t ignore. Torin seems to notice too, a slow, wicked grin spreading across his face.

“There she is,” he whispers, his hand brushing down my side, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. “My little kitten.”

His lips hover over mine, his gaze locking with mine as if daring me to stop him. My body arches slightly against him, my hips pressing up into his as his warmth seeps into me. I can feel his hardness through his trousers. I can't stop the moan that escapes my mouth as I think about him slipping it inside of me.

His hand slides to my thigh, gripping it firmly, and I let out an involuntary gasp. My head spins, torn between rage, fear, and a deep, undeniable desire.

"Perfect fucking little kitten," he breathes out.

Just as his lips are about to capture mine, the door swings open with a loud creak.

“Enough,” Finn’s voice cuts through the tension, sharp and commanding.

Torin stumbles back like he’s been yanked by an invisible force, his expression flickering with irritation as he turns to face Finn. “What the fuck, Ghost?” he growls, his voice low and dangerous.

Finn steps into the room, his silver ring glinting as he rolls it between his fingers. His gaze is calm but unyielding as he looks at Torin. “I said, that’s enough. You’ve had your fun for the night.”

Torin’s jaw tightens, and for a moment, I think he’s going to argue. But then he huffs out a laugh, shaking his head. “Fine,” he says, his tone mocking as he backs toward the door. He glances over his shoulder at me, his grin returning. “Don’t worry, kitten. We’ll play again soon.”

I glare at him, my chest heaving as I try to regain control of my breathing. He winks before slipping out of the room, leaving me alone with Finn.

Finn leans against the doorframe, his dark eyes studyingme with an unnerving intensity. “You need to be careful,” he says, his voice calm but firm. “Torin doesn’t know when to stop.”

I sit up, pulling the blanket around me like a shield. “And what about you?” I ask, my voice sharp. “Should I be careful around you too?”

His lips quirk into a faint smirk, but there’s no humor in it. “No need,” he says simply. “I don’t share Torin’s… appetites.”

The way he says it sends a shiver down my spine, and I can’t tell if it’s a relief or a warning. He straightens, his gaze lingering on me for a moment before he turns to leave.

“Get some rest,” he says over his shoulder. “You’ll need it.”

The door clicks shut behind him, leaving me alone in the dimly lit room. My heart is still racing, my thoughts a chaotic swirl of anger, fear, and confusion. One thing is clear: these warlocks are dangerous, and I have to find a way out of here—before I lose more than just my freedom.

Chapter

Eleven

KAEL

The fire crackles in the hearth, its light casting long, flickering shadows over the dark wood of my quarters. The weight of the evening presses on me, heavier than it should. I swirl the amber liquid in my glass, staring into it as if it holds answers. It doesn’t.

Instead, my mind circles back to her. The huntress. The way her power surged at the table—wild, unrefined, yet undeniably potent. It was intoxicating, and not just because of the sheer rawness of it. No, it was her. The way she stood there, trembling but unbroken, defying us even as her own abilities spiraled out of control.

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