Page 115 of On Wings of Blood

Blake still had the fluffin.

That was the only thing that made me pause and consider for one moment the sanity of my next actions.

But ultimately, even the little pup wasn’t enough to stop me. Florence and I could sneak into the Drakharrow Tower and get it afterwards, I rationalized. We’d figure something out.

I stormed into Advanced Weaponry and paused in the doorway, scanning the room.

There. In the corner.

Fuckingshirtlessagain. Of course he was. Cocky, egotistical asshole.

His back was to me. The sight of all that exposed skin and muscle made my chest tighten, but not with fear.

His narrow shoulders flexed as he worked the training bag, muscles rippling beneath the black tattoos that covered his pale skin like dark, forbidden scriptures.

Sure, he was gorgeous. He was also oblivious to Vaughn’s suffering and guilty as sin for causing it.

Fury was boiling in my veins. But beneath the rage was something else. Something far more infuriating and far more shameful.

There was a pull when I looked at Blake Drakharrow. He was beautiful in the way that fire was beautiful. Raw and scorching. I hated it. Hated that my breath caught in my throat when I saw him like this. Hated that my heart raced. Not just with anger, but with something I’d sworn I wouldn’t let myself name.

I thought of Vaughn. His black eye, his broken arm. I thought of the hopeful, sweet expression in his eyes when I’d run into him that night on the beach and he’d been on his way to see Theo.

Blake had done this to him because he was a blightborn. Because he thought Vaughn wasn’t good enough for Theo.

Just like he thought I wasn’t good enough for him.

Now was the time to end this.

I glanced around. I was early. The room was still empty, except for a few highblood students here and there, talking to one another or practicing warm-up drills. Professor Sankara hadn’t arrived yet. This was my chance.

I squared my shoulders and started across the room, my pulse a drumbeat in my ears.

As I neared him, I called his name.

“Blake.”

He froze mid-punch, his back still to me, then slowly lowered his fist. Then he turned, casual but alert, the hint of a cool smile already tugging at his lips.

His gray eyes narrowed, taking me in with that lazy arrogance I’d come to loathe.

“What do you want, Pen–” he started to drawl.

I didn’t give him time to finish. Before the words were fully formed, my fist was flying.

My knuckles connected with the sharp line of his jaw. The impact reverberated up my arm. It hurt. It also felt really good.

Blake staggered back, a flash of shock crossing his handsome face as he brought a hand up to his face, rubbing his jaw where I’d struck him.

“What the fuck was that for?” Blake roared.

His mocking arrogance and customary smugness was gone, replaced by something far more dangerous.

But before I could answer, a tall figure rushed towards me. I turned to see Coregon. The tall, dark-skinned young man eyed me warily. “You can’t take on Blake, Medra,” he warned, his voice surprisingly gentle. “Just walk away. He’s stronger than you are. You don’t want this.”

But Coregon’s words simply goaded me onwards. My fury was burning too hot to put out.

I stepped around Coregon and he let me, taking a few steps back.

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