Page 15 of The Blood Moon Oath

My mind races, replaying the events of earlier. What the hell is happening to me? My powers—if that’s even what they are—are uncontrollable, and every time they surge, I feel like I’m losing a piece of myself.

And then there’s them. Kael, Torin, Finn. My captors. My enemies. My... what? The way they look at me, the way their presence stirs something primal and dangerous inside me—it’s maddening.

I swing my legs over the side of the bed, my bare feet touching the cool floor. I need to get out of here. I need to figure out what’s happening to me before it’s too late.

As I stand, the room spins slightly, and I steady myself against the bedpost. I take a few steps toward the small table by the wall, reaching for the glass of water sitting there.

“Hello, little kitten.”

The voice comes from the shadows, smooth and dripping with dark amusement. My heart leaps into my throat as Torin steps forward, his grin wicked and predatory.

Chapter

Ten

SABLE

Ifreeze as soon as I see him, my heart racing wildly in my chest. Torin stands there in the shadows, leaning casually against the wall like he owns the place. He’s shirtless, of course, because why wouldn’t he be? My gaze flickers over him, and for one fleeting, ridiculous second, I wonder where the hell his shirt is. It’s freezing outside, and yet here he is, all bare skin and confidence. Heat rises to my cheeks, but I push it aside. I can’t afford to let him distract me.

The firelight flickers across the intricate tattoos that snake up one side of his body. They start at his left hand, curling around his forearm in jagged, claw-like marks before spreading across his biceps—thick and bulging with the kind of muscle that looks like it’s carved from stone. The tattoos morph as they ascend, shifting into the jagged silhouette of a mountain range across his shoulder, with streaks of shadow-like ink stretching down his back as though they’re the remnants of something clawing at him.

The design continues up the side of his neck, where dark, angular symbols peek out, sharp and deliberate. They frame his shaved head on one side, like runes that might carry a meaning only he knows. His chest is broad and heaving, every line of his pectoral muscles pronounced and dusted with faint scars that glisten under the firelight. His abs ripple with every subtle movement, each one a testament to a life lived on raw strength. He shifts slightly, and his traps and delts catch the light, emphasizing their power and definition.

There’s something primal about the way he carries himself, his tattoos telling a story I don’t yet understand. They look like they’ve been etched with pain, not magic, each stroke a reflection of something dark and untamed within him. His dark eyes glint with amusement and something far more dangerous—something that makes my stomach twist and my pulse quicken.

Come on, ovaries, get a grip.This is not the time to start appreciating the finer details of a warlock’s gym routine—or his tattoos, or his ridiculously sharp jawline, or the way his abs could probably cut glass. Especially not withhim, the unhinged mad one of the bunch. I should be thinking about escape plans, not how his body practically screams sin and violence. He’s my captor, not some dark fantasy brought to life. Get it together, Sable.

“Well, hello, little kitten,” he says, his voice low and rough, a teasing edge to it. He steps forward, his movements unhurried, almost predatory. “Miss me?”

I step back instinctively, my pulse hammering in my ears. “What are you doing here?” I ask, keeping my voice steady despite the sudden dryness in my throat. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

He grins, slow and wolfish, the kind of grin that promises trouble. “Oh, I know. Finn and Kael said you needed rest.” Heshrugs, his tattoos shifting with the motion. “But I know better. Rest isn’t what you want, is it, kitten? You want to play.”

“Don’t call me that,” I snap, retreating another step. My back hits the bedpost, and I curse silently. Trapped.

He chuckles, the sound deep and full of wicked intent. “Why not? It suits you. All claws and hisses, but deep down…” He trails off, his gaze raking over me. “You’re just aching for someone to tame you.”

My glare stays fixed, but my body betrays me. A shiver runs down my spine under his scorching gaze, my nipples pebbling against the thin fabric of my nightgown. Heat pools low in my belly, an unwelcome ache that only deepens as his eyes rake over me with a mix of amusement and something far darker.

“Get out,” I snap, my voice steady despite the way my body is reacting. “I don’t want you here.”

His grin widens, a predator’s grin, as if he can see right through my bravado. My pulse hammers in my throat, and I clench my fists at my sides, silently willing my traitorous body to stop responding to him.

He steps closer, the air between us charged and electric. His chest, broad and inked with those maddening tattoos, almost brushes mine. The heat radiating from his skin seeps into me, and I feel my breath hitch as his scent—leather, steel, and something raw and wild—wraps around my senses like a vice. It's intoxicating, and I hate that I notice it.

“Oh, I think you’ve been waiting for someone like me,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough, a purr that slithers into my veins. His lips curve into that unhinged grin as he leans in, his words grazing my ear. “Someone who can take all your scratches and hisses. Someone who won’t flinch when you bare those little claws of yours.”

His body shifts, the barest brush of his skin against mine where the thin fabric of my nightgown offers no barrier. Thesensation sends a jolt through me, my nipples hardening into traitorous peaks as they graze his chest. My thighs press together instinctively, trying to stave off the heat pooling between them, but it’s no use. My body’s reaction is instant, primal, and infuriating.

“You’ve got fire,” he continues, his voice a molten thread of mockery and promise. “And I like fire. But deep down, you’re just aching for someone who can match it. Someone who can take everything you throw at them—and give it back twice as hard.”

My heart thunders against my ribcage, my anger battling the unwelcome rush of desire that surges through me. My skin tingles where his brushed mine, and my traitorous body betrays me further, heat coiling low and insistent. I want to shove him away, tell him he’s wrong, but the words tangle in my throat as his dark gaze pins me in place.

“You’re insane,” I manage, my voice trembling slightly. “Stay away from me.”

Torin tilts his head, studying me with a dark amusement that makes my skin prickle. “I like women who struggle,” he says, almost conversationally. “It makes things more… exciting.”

Before I can react, he lunges, his strong hands pinning me to the bed. I gasp, my pulse spiking as he looms over me, his weight pressing me into the mattress. His tattoos seem to shift in the firelight, the sharp lines and dark swirls mirroring the intensity in his gaze.

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