Page 238 of On Wings of Blood

He was... impossibly handsome. More beautiful tonight than I’d ever seen him.

“Pendragon,” he said. Then more softly, “Medra.”

A small smile tugged at my lips. I wanted this. I’d spent so long pretending that I didn’t, but now, in the dead of the night, with Blake looking at me like that, all the denials seemed utterly pointless.

When he spoke my name like that, I couldn’t hold onto the anger or the hurt. All I felt was the pull. The irresistible tug that had always drawn us together and that seemed even stronger lately. Urging us to be one, no matter how much I fought it.

His hand reached out, brushing against my cheek with surprising gentleness. Before I could think better of it, I leaned into his touch.

He kissed me.

The kiss was hot, urgent, igniting every nerve in my body.

I kissed him back eagerly, my hands reaching up to tug at the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer, as if afraid if I let go, he might disappear back into the shadows.

His hands settled on my hips, strong and possessive.

Time stopped. There was no guilt, no fear. No past, no pain. There was only this. Only him.

Blake deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding between my lips, and my head spun. How many times had I told myself I hated him? But now, all of that seemed to dissolve.

He’d changed. He’d shown that, hadn’t he? He’d protected me. I’d seen how much he protected the people he cared about, how much it hurt him when he failed. He had a softer side. Just look at him with Neville.

Maybe, just maybe, we could move past all of the hurt and the bitterness. Regan was out of the picture. It was just the two of us now. Maybe we could find something real. Forge a true partnership. Find something worth fighting for.

Blake pulled back slightly. He slid his hands up my body and I gasped. Then he raised one hand and touched one of my long, red curls. “You’re so beautiful, little dragon,” he whispered.

His voice was almost reverent. I found myself melting under the intensity of the words.

Never ever had I been drawn to anyone like I was to him.

He kissed my lips, my cheek, the curve of my jaw. I curled my fingers into the fabric of his shirt, pressing my body closer to his.

His lips grazed my neck. “Medra,” he whispered, the words soft and tender. “Let me take care of you.”

I could feel the strength in him. Raw power tight beneath the controlled exterior. It thrilled me to touch him, to sense that strength, to know it was for me.

His mouth hovered over the pulse point of my neck. I felt a sense of peace, of trust.

Then I felt his fangs.

A sharp pressure. Then a sharp sting as his teeth pierced my skin.

My eyes flew open as pain jolted through me. For a split second I was frozen, too stunned to react.

Then, with all the strength I could muster, I shoved him away.

He stumbled back. For a moment, he looked wounded, confused, as if he couldn’t understand why I’d pushed him.

A smear of my blood stained his lips and I felt a wave of fury flood over me.

His hand flew to his mouth and he wiped at the blood.

I pressed a hand to my neck, feeling the droplets from the two small punctures.

“What the hell are you doing, Blake?” My voice trembled with shock and anger. “You were going to feed on me? Without even asking?”

He took a step towards me but I recoiled. I’d been ready to forgive him, to move past everything, and he had tried to claim me–in the worst possible way.

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