Page 48 of The Knight

"He was killed for it." Setting the laptop down on the end table beside me, I squeeze my hands together so my fingers don't tremble. "And then I started posting on the Legacies blog. Somehow they must have figured out it was me. I don't even know how."

Gently, Blake says, "It wouldn't have been hard, Brenna. Half the social networks you used have members of the Syndicate somewhere on the board. When you got too close to that story involving the governor's son, they probably decided to look into you, pulled your public IP address, and figured out pretty quickly that only one person could've posted from both Wayborne and Coleridge's campus. From there, it's pretty easy to find you."

"They were looking into my family." I close my eyes briefly at the memory of those mens' voices. "They knew our house was destroyed by the tornado. I didn't realize how they knew the laptop was still around, but it must be because I logged into websites from it and posted to the blog."

"Exactly. So they're already gunning for you—or at least, that laptop." Staring me down, Blake says, "If you want to walk away from all this, Brenna, you can. Just give me the laptop, I'll have my dad turn it into one of them—he has to deal with their types in Hollywood even if he doesn't want to—and they can destroy it. We'll tell them that you never even looked at it, and they'll leave you alone."

I blink at him, confessing, "That's not what I want to do." Then I realize, "That's not what you want me to do, either."

"Walk away from all this? No. I think you should face them."

"Why?" I study him. "I'm just a teenaged girl, after all. Some nobody. Trailer trash, basically—isn't that what you call me? There's nothing about me that's special enough to go after a group that's actually called theSyndicate."

"You have a fire inside you." I startle at how much his words echo my thoughts. To me, the rage that I feel, the drive to destroy and take without thinking, is like flames seeking fuel. Blake continues, "I see that fire when I look at you. It burns so bright, I think it could bring the whole world to its knees. The Syndicate won't know what's coming when you come for them."

Quietly, I point out, "But I mess up so much. The SD card in the camera. All that logging into social media networks—I should've realized not to leave a trace, should'vealwaysused a VPN. Everything I touch is ruined."

"We all make mistakes. We all get better. You're the only person I've ever seen with the drive to take on the powerful." Sliding off his chair, he gets down on his knees in front of me and takes my hands between his, their broad strength and incredible warmth giving me a fire of another sort. "I believe in you, Brenna. You don't ruin things—you come at them headfirst, no matter the consequences. Also," a devilish smirk curls up his lips, the mouth I once saw as emotionless now wicked with desire, "you touched me, and I'm not ruined."

I find myself leaning down towards him, our eyes meeting, his hands touching the insides of my thighs, just above my knees. Breath catching, I murmur, "We should try again, just to see. Maybe this time I'll destroy you with a single brush of my lips."

"I wish that you would try."

Surging upwards, he captures my lips with his own, hand reaching up to cup the side of my cheek. I moan and lean back into the chair as he presses me into it, his body parting my knees, his broad shoulders warm beneath my hands as I reach up to brace myself against him.

Those clever fingers of his, fingers that trace the lines of books and memorize their secrets, reach between my legs and dance across my thighs, the edge of my skirt pushed up past my knee-high socks.

I whimper, and he captures the sound in his mouth, kissing me so deeply that all thoughts leave me at once.

Warmth pools inside me, warmth that has nothing to do with rage or revenge. I feel like an entirely different girl with Blake Lee's body against mine. Reaching beneath me, he pulls me body towards his until my legs are parted around his hips, wrapping around behind him, the bulge of his hardening erection obvious and so close to me that I shiver.

His mouth drops from mine and travels down, leaving kisses on my jawline, my neck, behind my ear. Pressing his hips forward, his breath hitches in a moan as his clothed erection brushes against the edge of my dampening underwear. I startle at the realization that my skirt is up around my hips, my breath coming hard and fast, his fingers traveling underneath my button-up and towards my bra. Any second someone could walk into this room and see us here, unmistakably heading towards something I've never done before, never even thought I'd be so close to doing.

"Blake..." My voice trails off into a breathy moan as he nips gently at the tender skin of my neck, right near my pulse, his fingers unhooking my bra, broad thumb reaching around to brush against my nipple. "Blake, we shouldn't. Not here."

"Why not?"

He leans back, his eyes all pupil, blown wide and dark. Somehow his belt has come undone, and my eyes travel down to his crotch, blushing fiercely—it's clear from what I can see that he has plenty to work with and is more than just a little into my body.

"Anyone can catch us," I point out, embarrassed at the roughness of my voice. "There's not even a lock on the door."

"So? Let them catch us." He smirks. "I'd like to see what they think of one of the Elites fucking a girl like you out in the open. They'd probably talk about it for days."

My stomach drops, even as a part of me imagines what that would be like, how he would feel inside me, and I blush furiously. Still, those words—I didn't think I'd hear the first guy who was really into me talk about it likethat.

Stumbling, I tell him, "I'm a virgin."

"And?" He just looks at me, dark brows barely moving. His hand is still beneath my shirt, and he brings it up to rub a circle around my nipple, smirking as my breath hitches. "I figured that out. So am I—you know that. It's like an albatross around my neck. Let's get it out of the way together."

"Just like that?"

"Yes." He tweaks my nipple, and I have to force myself to grab his wrist and pull his hand away, even as that part of my body wants nothing more than to feel more of it. Blake frowns at me, clearly annoyed. "What's wrong? I know you want me, that much is obvious. And it's not like you're saving it for marriage—neither am I. So let's practice together."

With effort, I push him off, reaching back to try to put my bra together again. As I do so, I ask him, "Is this all just a game to you?"

"Oh, Brenna." He rolls his eyes at me. "Isn't everything?"

"No." Shaking my head, I jump off the chair and move past him, yanking my skirt down and pulling my socks up until I feel less like a fool. "I should've known better. You never had feelings for me."

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