Page 120 of On Wings of Blood

It was a sick irony. The more she fought against me, the more this fucked up attraction to her grew.

Fighting her in the training yard just now had been almost as good as sex. It was probably the closest we’d ever get, if she had her way.

I knew I’d be replaying the way her body had moved as we fought in my head that night, over and over again. When I’d pinned her down, my body pressing against hers, her breath hot on my skin–I’d known in that moment it would be the closest I’d ever get to having her. The way she’d writhed beneath me, the soft curves of her body straining against my weight, her lips slightly parted as she gasped for breath... Fuck. It had almost undone me.

I’d stayed there like that as long as I’d dared, hovering over her, unable to take my eyes off the soft, tempting curve of her lips. The impulse had been so strong to just lean down and kiss her, right there in front of everyone.

She would have slapped me. Probably would have hated me even more.

But I couldn’t help wondering if it would have been worth the humiliation.

Did she know how careful I’d been not to make her bleed? Not to break her perfect, soft, white skin no matter how much she goaded me?

I’d already been so fucking aroused that I knew if I’d scented even a drop of blood on her while we’d fought, I wouldn’t have been able to restrain myself.

I groaned a little, remembering the sweetness of her body, the swell of her breasts. It had taken all I had not to reach a hand down and cup one of them through her tunic.

I knew that night I’d be jerking off as I imagined unfastening her trousers and sliding into the warm, wet place between her thighs.

Except, in my fantasies, Pendragon was always awillingparticipant. She’d moan her need for me, arching her hips impatiently. She’d tug my pants off, and cradle my cock, running her fingers down the hard length of it.

In my dreams, she wanted me just as much as I wanted her.

Fat chance of that ever happening in real life.

Belatedly, I realized Headmaster Kim had stood up and was speaking.

I knew I’d be expected to pay him a visit later. Probably with Pendragon. Did she even realize the serious crime she’d committed by fighting me like that?

Consorts had been banished or even beheaded for less.

One did not attack one’s archon. Ever.

It was an unspoken rule, perhaps even an unwritten one. If it was unwritten, if it wasn’t actually on the books, then perhaps we could use that to Pendragon’s advantage. I could talk to Rodriguez after this was all over, see if he could point that out to Kim.

I felt an uncomfortable sensation, like an itch on my conscience.

What the fuck was wrong with me that I was thinking of ways to keep Pendragon from being kicked out of Bloodwing or worse? Instead of just letting it happen.

Because, a secret nagging voice in my head said, I knew exactly what would happen to her if she was expelled.

She wouldn’t be free. My uncle would never let her go.

No, Pendragon was chained for life. If not to me, then...

Kim’s chill voice broke through my thoughts. “For millennia, the leadership of our Houses has been determined by strength, cunning, and the will to dominate. Only the powerful may rule. Only the worthy may survive. ‘Sanguis et Flamma Floreant’ is our motto. Only blood and flame may flourish in these halls. From blood comes unity. From blood comes strength. From blood, legacy. From blood, power.”

I sighed and crossed my arms over my chest, trying not to look too bored. It was basically the same tedious speech he’d given at every House Leadership ceremony.

Except this year would be even more tedious for the crowd watching. Today I’d be winning the House Leader position by default.

Headmaster Kim sure didn’t seem pleased about that. “In an almost unprecedented historical moment at Bloodwing, we stand here today without a second challenger. Without a single soul brave enough to test their strength against House Drakharrow’s favored son.”

My claim to the house leadership was practically a birthright. No one had the guts to face me. I hadn’t really expected them to.

Still, I had to admit it was too easy this way.

Catherine Mortis had to put down three other contenders to win her place. Even though we’d all known she’d come out the victor. One had even been her own cousin. Catherine was brutal and would do anything to win. She’d been merciless with her kills. Even more pitiless towards her cousin.

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