Page 155 of The Bond That Burns

“Ahem. Time is ticking.” Visha’s voice broke the moment, as she leaned against the doorway, a wicked grin on her face.

“Do you need a moment? Should we go on without you two?” Florence asked innocently.

“Not if we ever want to see them again,” Theo said jokingly.

I felt my face heat up. “No, we’re ready,” I said hastily.

“Actually, just one more thing.” Blake reached into his pocket and pulled out another small, black box. But this time, he handed it to Florence. “For you, Florence. You already look lovely. But if you wanted another accessory, I thought...”

Florence opened the box and gasped in delight. A small silver pendant in the shape of a fluffin sitting on a stack of books rested there.

“It’s beautiful. Thank you, Blake,” she said, with a happy smile. She flung her arms around his shoulders, surprising everyone–but Blake most of all, I thought. “I love it.”

Blake looked a little nervous, but he patted her awkwardly on the back and smiled. “Of course.”

I helped Florence fasten the pendant around her neck, suddenly feeling choked up.

As we left the room, I felt the press of the necklace resting against my collarbone. But I didn’t feel claimed or chained or possessed. Instead, its presence was reassuring, oddly grounding.

Blake walked at my side, his usual arrogant swagger tempered tonight. He was quieter, as if he were thinking about something. I wondered what it was, if we were both thinking the same thing.

Because for the first time in a long time, I was seeing possibilities spinning out before me that I’d never let myself consider before.

I’d hated Blake Drakharrow. Truly hated him. He’d been arrogant, cruel, and entirely too eager to exert power over me when he thought he could. That hadn’t disappeared entirely. I’d seen flashes of his petty, vindictive streak earlier that year. His need to dominate.

But tonight, he was here. Giving me gifts, being kind to my friend, trying to get to know me. I glanced up at him, his sharp profile outlined by the lanterns as we moved down the hall. There was a shyness to his expression that I’d never seen before, as though he was waiting for something, hoping for it, but too afraid to ask.

Before I could stop myself, I slipped my hand into his. The moment I made contact, he turned to look at me and his expression made my heart wrench. His gray eyes had gone wide, almost disbelieving, as if the world had shifted beneath his feet and he hadn’t quite caught up yet.

That look. It took my breath away.

At that moment, all I could think about was how close he was—and how much closer I wanted him to be.

CHAPTER 40 - BLAKE

The ballroom was a sparkling spectacle of brilliance—no expense spared, no surface left undecorated. The air was heavy with the mingled scents of blood wine and expensive perfumes.

It was torture.

I moved through a slow waltz, with Pendragon in my arms, her body close enough to drive me mad. All I could think about was getting her alone. Away from our friends, from the crowd, from the music. Away from the infernal layers of satin and silk that stood between us.

I wanted to peel her gown away and trace every inch of her body with my lips, hear her gasp my name in that breathless, unguarded way I craved.

But I knew it was hopeless. She wasn’t going to leave Florence. Not tonight.

The worst part was, I understood. I fucking got it. The old Blake might not have. But I did.

I knew Pendragon had to stay with her friend and maybe the weirdest thing of all was that I didn’t really want to abandon Florence either. She’d kind of grown on me. There was something about the dark-haired bookish girl that reminded me of Aenia a little. Something that filled me with that urge to protect.

So, we waltzed. I kept my hands steady on Pendragon’s satin-draped waist. Even as every fiber of me burned to rip the stuff off her.

The soft sway of the dance made the loose strands of her hair catch the light, shifting between fire and gold with every turn. It was wild in a way nothing else in this meticulously perfect room could ever be, rebellious in its very beauty.

Red was never a color I’d given much thought to before. It was one of the colors of my house. It was anger, danger, blood.

Then I saw Pendragon–her hair wild, untamed, burning like dragon fire. And suddenly red wasn’t any of those things. It was the scent of jasmine and vanilla, autumn leaves swirling in the wind, the crackle of a fire on a chilly night, the first light of dawn rising golden and rosy. All the things that made life sweet. All the things that made it worth living.

So, yeah, red was officially my favorite color now.

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