Page 10 of The Blood Moon Oath

“See, I like breaking things,” I continue, dragging the flat of my blade against my palm for effect, a bead of blood forming. “It’s an art, really. And you, little kitten...” I pause behind her,leaning close enough that my breath brushes her neck. “You look like you’d break beautifully.”

She stiffens, whipping her head around to glare at me, and damn if that defiance doesn’t make my grin even wider. My fingers twitch at my sides. I can feel the urge to touch her, to grab her, to see just how far I can push her before she shatters.

“You’re trying so hard to be brave,” I say, stepping in front of her again, my gaze raking over her trembling form. “But I see through it. You’re scared. I can smell it on you.”

“Torin,” Kael warns, his voice sharp, but I barely register it. I’m too focused on her, on the way she tries to square her shoulders, tries to look like she’s not falling apart.

I let the tip of my blade graze the hem of her shirt, lifting it just slightly, and lean in close enough to feel her heat. “Maybe I’ll start small,” I murmur. “See how loud I can make you scream before I really get to work.”

Her hands clench into fists, her teeth gritting together as she glares at me with all the fire she can muster. It’s fucking intoxicating, the way she fights against the fear, the way she refuses to crumble.

“Enough, Torin,” Kael snaps, his voice cutting through the haze of my thoughts.

I step back reluctantly, my grin still firmly in place. “Fine,” I say, tossing my blade into the air and catching it by the hilt. “But don’t say I didn’t warn her.”

She watches me like a cornered animal, her chest heaving, her eyes bright with anger and fear. And damn if I don’t want to see more of it.

I can’t help myself. I move closer, drawn to her like a moth to a flame. “Do you feel it?” I ask, glancing at Kael and Finn. “Don’t tell me I’m the only one.”

“We feel it,” Finn says quietly, his expression serious for once. “But we need to be careful.”

I roll my eyes, frustrated but unwilling to fight them on this—yet. “Fine.” I walk to the chair by the fire, grabbing the bottle of liquor sitting nearby. I take a long swig, the burn a weak echo of the fire raging inside me.

She’s dangerous. That much I know. But fuck if I’m not enjoying every second of it.

Chapter

Seven

SABLE

Torin growls his frustration but peels himself away from me, stalking toward the fire like a restless predator. He grabs a bottle of amber liquor from the low table near the hearth, pops the cork with his teeth, and takes a long, defiant swig. The flames cast flickering shadows over the sharp lines of his tattooed torso, making him look every bit the unhinged beast I know he is. I should feel relief that he’s finally put some distance between us, but his gaze catches mine over the rim of the bottle, dark and smoldering, and my stomach twists in a way I can’t quite explain.

Before I can catch my breath, the one in the suit's voice cuts through the silence like a blade.

“We’ll be having dinner in my quarters.”

I cross my arms, my chin lifting defiantly. “I’ll pass, thank you.”

His lips twitch into the faintest smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “That wasn’t a request. It was a demand. You’ll comebecause you need to understand just what your place is here. Don’t let your accommodations confuse you—you are still very much our prisoner.”

My stomach twists, not with fear, but with anger. “And if I don’t?” I challenge, even though I know the answer.

Ghost leans casually against the wall, rolling a silver ring between his fingers, the glint of it catching the firelight. “Stubborn, isn't she, Kael?” he murmurs, almost like it’s a compliment.

I turn back to the one Ghost called Kael—their leader. His name settles in my mind like a weight, heavy with authority. He stands tall, every inch of him radiating control and precision. The tailored suit he wears is immaculate, a dark charcoal that molds perfectly to his broad shoulders and lean, muscular frame. Not a thread out of place, not a crease to be found, as though chaos itself bends to his will. His jet-black hair is swept back neatly, sharp cheekbones framing a face that looks like it was carved from stone—cold, unyielding, and painfully handsome.

His eyes, though, are what hold me captive. A striking, icy blue, they cut through the dim firelight, piercing and unrelenting. They assess me with an unnerving calm, like he’s already calculated every possible move I could make and decided how best to counter it. There’s a faint shadow of stubble along his jawline, giving him a rugged edge that contrasts with his polished demeanor. Power clings to him, tangible and suffocating, a force that feels as though it could crush me without him even lifting a finger. And yet, there’s a smirk playing at the corner of his lips, like he knows a secret about me I haven’t yet figured out.

Kael. A name that fits the man before me—lethal, refined, and impossibleto ignore.

“I don’t have anything to wear,” I snap, grasping for any excuse to hold onto the scraps of control I have left.

Ghost's smirk grows, and with a snap of his fingers, the air around me shimmers, rippling like water. The fabric of my clothing shifts and twists, slinking along my body like liquid silk until I’m left standing in a daring cocktail dress. Deep red, almost the color of blood, it clings to every curve, sculpting itself to me like it was poured on. My mouth falls open as I glance down, the neckline plunging scandalously low, exposing more skin than I’d ever willingly show. Thin straps crisscross over my shoulders and down my back, leaving most of it bare. The hemline is short, barely brushing the middle of my thighs, and it swishes provocatively with every tiny movement I make.

I shift slightly, feeling an unfamiliar weight at my feet. My boots are gone, replaced by towering stilettos, the same rich crimson as the dress, their pointed tips and delicate straps a far cry from the sturdy leather I’m used to. The shoes glint wickedly in the firelight, their impossibly high heels making me feel unsteady and vulnerable. It’s a calculated look—elegant, seductive, and designed to make me feel exposed. And it’s working.

“Perfect,” Torin says, and he’s suddenly in front of me, his sharp grin on full display. His eyes sweep over me, shameless, devouring every inch. “My little kitten cleans up nicely, doesn’t she?”

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