Page 161 of On Wings of Blood

Surprising me with his strength, he flipped us over, and suddenly, I was the one pinned beneath him.

He had the dagger now, his hand still around my wrist, as he pressed the blade against my throat.

His face hovered over mine. His eyes were wild. So full of hate.

I knew he’d use the knife.

I closed my eyes, the pressure of the blade against my skin intensifying. This was how it was going to end. All because I’d been too weak and too stupid to kill him when I'd had the chance.

I braced myself for the cut. Would he feed from me as my life’s blood spilled out?

Then his lips brushed my ear. “I could kill you right here, right now, little dragon.”

The words sent a jolt down my spine.

Then the pressure at my throat was gone. I heard a clattering sound as he tossed the dagger away.

“You had your chance to end this,” he growled, his breath hot against my skin. “You failed. And now...you’re mine.”

Then his lips were on mine.

The kiss was rough. Urgent. Possessive. Everything I’d been denying I wanted.

For a heartbeat, I froze.

My first instinct was to push him away. But in the next moment, I felt my hands betray me. I clutched his shirt, pulling him closer instead.

I was furious with myself. In my head, I knew he was no good for me. But my body knew what it wanted and was refusing to deny it for another second.

Heat coiled low in my stomach and the need I’d been fighting for so long surged to the surface.

I was lost in the kiss, lost in him. The way he kissed me was commanding–a storm of anger and desire. Every nerve in my body screamed with need, my mind spinning from the intensity of it.

I could think, couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t resist him.

Blake’s hands slid down my body, his fingers brushing the exposed skin of my waist, leaving a trail of heat in their wake.

My hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer against me, as my mind screamed at me to stop.

His tongue slid against mine, sending a bolt of lightning through my body, and I moaned.

His fingers roamed over me, finding their way beneath my clothes. His hands cupped my breasts and I shivered, arching upwards, silently begging for more.

“You’re mine,” he growled against my lips.

I hated myself for how much I wanted it to be true.

“I hate you,” I whispered, even as my body melted with his touch.

His teeth grazed my lower lips and I felt his fangs, reminding me just how dangerous he truly was.

His dark voice filled with cruel satisfaction. “You could never hate me as much as you want me.”

And then his hands were tugging my trousers down and his fingers were between my legs, slipping into the wet space between my thighs. I trembled against him as he slid in and out of me, bringing me closer and closer to the edge.

The dream shifted violently.

The training yard quaked.

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