Page 158 of On Wings of Blood

“Regan, you know my position on the Consort Games,” I said firmly. “And you’re going to toe the fucking line. Aren’t you?”

Regan twirled a strand of hair around her finger and sighed.

“Regan, look at me, dammit.”

She sulkily met my eyes. “Yes. Fine. I am. You know that. A girl can still dream, can’t she?”

I rolled my eyes. Only Regan would dream of murdering her fellow consort. Well, maybe not only Regan. It happened once in a while. But it wasn’t supposed to.

“You don’t want to piss off old Uncle Viktor, now do you, Regan?” I reminded her.

I hated myself for doing it, but I reached a hand forward and lightly cupped her cheek. “Or me, baby. Right?”

Her gaze softened as she looked at me. “Of course not. You know I’m a good girl.”

“The very best,” I said, letting my voice take on the hint of a drawl. “Such a good girl for me.”

She bit her lip. “Blake...”

I knew exactly what she was going to ask later. She’d want to come to my room that night. She wanted to come to my room every fucking night.

But I’d shut her out months ago. It had driven her crazy. I hadn’t even let her go down on me. No matter how sex crazed I’d felt sometimes. And it had been pretty bad at some points.

I wasn’t sure exactly what was wrong with me. But Regan had lost all appeal. Even in bed. And she had a good body, there was no denying that. She was exceptionally... bendy.

It was all Pendragon’s fault. Ever since that day I’d found her. Even covered with that prick, Barnabas’s blood, she’d been a breathtaking sight.

I thought of that day constantly.

Medra Pendragon might have been the most infuriating girl I’d ever known. She certainly ignited my worst emotions. And yet I’d never get that vision of her out of my head. Naked and yet still looking down her nose at me. Breasts splattered with blood and yet standing as tall and straight as a queen.

She was a blightborn. She shouldn’t have been capable of doing what she did to me.

But it was like she didn’t even understand what she was.

She wasn’t like other girls who fawned over me and bent to my will. I’d sampled plenty of those in my first year at Bloodwing. Even Regan had fallen into that category eventually, though at first she’d pretended to have an actual backbone and mind of her own. It had all been an act. She’d been trying to hold my interest. And it worked–for a little while.

But no, Pendragon met me with brutal words and cold glares. She made it clear she had no intention of falling at my feet. Yet despite that–no, fuck, because of it–I couldn’t stop thinking about her.

There was something about being challenged that made her irresistible. That glimmer of rebellion in her eyes, like a light that promised to never go out. The way she resisted what most girls would normally crave.

I couldn’t shake her from my thoughts. If I’d at least been able to justtasteher, then maybe I’d have been able to get her out of my head. But even that was impossible. To do so would undo exactly what my uncle claimed he wanted us to get out of this.

Hell, part of me suspected he never wanted me to taste Pendragon–because he planned to take her for himself.

And that thought made me see blood red. It wouldneverhappen, not while I lived.

I didn’t want to stand up to Viktor. I fucking hated the man, but I wasn’t an idiot. I knew he was stronger than me.

Still, I’d do it, even if I knew it was suicidal, if I thought there was a chance it would keep Pendragon out of his slimy old hands.

In a world where everyone else bowed to us, she stood tall. Defiant and unbroken. It made Regan hate her. But to me, it only made her more alluring.

I closed my eyes for a moment. Remembering her perfect breasts. That thatch of red curls between her pale thighs.

Every night I jerked off to the same thing. Just different variations.

My favorite fantasy this week involved going down on her. She’d push me away, tell me to get out of her room, then she’d change her mind and grab me by the hair and pull me back, shoving my head down between her legs.

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