Page 80 of To Charm a Dark Prince

Gwen blinked. “Whoa.”

But she didn’t have time to appreciate what she had just done. He stepped from the smoke like a nightmare, fire still curling from his iron armor where it glowed orangey-red. He looked for all the world like a demon stepping out of the gates of hell.

So she did the only thing she could think of.

She blasted him with fire again. She needed him to stop. She needed him to get away from her. But nothing she did to him seemed to even slow him down. He kept stalking her around the courtyard, his steps now methodical.

Didn’t fire melt iron? Wasn’t that the whole plan? No matter what she did, how many times she hit him with afireball—it didn’t even make him flinch.

“No magic can harm me.” Mordred kept advancing on her, making her retreat each time. “You cannot cause me damage. No one can. I am an aberration in this world—I am the elemental that should never have been. Melt this castle down around my head, and it will do nothing to stop me. Destroy the Crystal? I shall simply make another and begin again. Do you understand? I aminevitable.”

“What the fuck did I do? Why’re you so mad?” She was crying. Little bits of lava were hitting the ground where they dripped from her cheeks and the cut on her arm. He was right. Dear God, he was right. What was she supposed to do against him? How was she supposed to win? She couldn’t. Every bit of footing she had in Avalon was because Mordred had let her have it. Not because she had earned it.

Maybe she could run away. The necklace was off. That meant she could get out of here, and escape into the woods, or some shit. She turned, planning on doing just that—fuck the castle and if she set it on fire on the way out.

She made it halfway to the door before he caught up with her. A clawed fist snatched her by the hair, and a second later she was pressed up against the stone wall of the courtyard. He was at her back, his hand still fisted in her hair, keeping her cheek pinned to the cooler surface.

“Where do you think you are going? Where do you think you can hide from me, Gwendolyn? Out in the wilds of Avalon? I would hunt you down…believe you me, I wouldrelishthe opportunity.”

“Mordred, please—” She pushed on the stone wall, trying to get some space between them. But he was right there, caging her in. She couldn’t budge him. It was like trying to move a car.

He shushed her, crouching to lower his head closer to hers. He dropped his voice. “I have treated you as my guest for your benefit and yours alone. I let you whisper in corridors with strangers, I let you scheme with my own knights against me. I let you keep your secrets in the hope that you willchoosethe right path. But do not think for one second that I do not know what you are doing.”

His thigh pressed between her legs, further pinning her there. He ran his metal hand slowly down her arm. She was shaking like a leaf—for more reasons than one.

He’s threatening my life. He’s threatening my safety. Now isnotthe time, you fucking idiot—she yelled at herself silently in her head, squeezing her eyes closed and trying to shut up that part of her that suddenly, and entirely inexplicably, decided that this was super hot.

No pun intended.

“Necklace or not. Fire or not. You cannot fight me. Do you understand?” His voice was now close to her ear, sounding metallic and a little hollow from inside his helm.

She swallowed the rock in her throat. It didn’t want to go down.

“Do you understand?” he snarled, his hand in her hair tightening. It pulled on her scalp, stinging her just a little. It hurt. And it didn’t. The mix of sensations did nothing to help her confusion.

“Y—yes.”

“What do you understand?”

Of course he was going to make her say it. “I can’t beat you. No matter what I do.”

“And?” Now his voice was a low growl, dangerous and sensual at the same moment. “What else?”

“That I—I can’t escape.” She cringed. “That I—”

He whirled her around. Before she could even blink, he grabbed her by the waist and hefted her up the wall. He stepped between her legs, the plates of his armor digging into her thighs as she wrapped her legs around him. His helm disappeared, melding into the rest of him, and his lips descended on hers with a vengeance.

His kisses before had been firm, but kind.

This was different.

This was very different.

This was a conquering warlord. This was bruising and harsh. Even though her lips were made of fire, it didn’t seem to hurt him in the slightest. When she pushed on his chest, trying to catch some air, he grasped her wrists and pinned them to the wall beside her head, deepening his kiss as he did.

Did she just moan?

Oh God.

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