Though she didn’t activate the link to the wraith, she began to weaken. Bones broke in her hands with every blow. Skin split, and blood trickled. It wasn’t long before she merely swatted at him. But stop? No!Must deliver pain. Must...feed.
She slowed, her gaze dropping to his throat. Breath sawed in and out of her mouth. How good would he taste?
With the next swipe, the tips of her claws grazed his flesh. Not to harm but to caress. His eyes widened, and he sucked air between his teeth. Without thought, she kind of, sort of rested her palm on his chest. Maybe, possibly, she curled her nails into his skin, too, as if she intended to hold on forever.
Forever?
In a snap, she came to her senses and drew back. Appearing shell-shocked, he captured her wrist and flattened her palm against his bare chest. His racing heartbeat greeted her. She stood frozen—while burning up. He was an absolute furnace!
He moved her touch across his collarbone, forcing her to stroke him. Or maybe not forcing her so much as guiding her.
“What are you doing?” she demanded, far too breathless for her liking.
“There’s no irritation with you,” he said. Shock lit his features, smoothing his roughest edges.
“I don’t care. Stop it!” Better?
He didn’t stop it. He linked their fingers.
Too intimate! “Let me go,” she commanded, tugging to no avail.
“There is no irritation with you,” he repeated, drawing her touch to his well-defined abs. “I want more.”
Oh, good gracious. Was he smuggling an eight pack of grenades in there? Her heart knocked against her ribs. Had she been standing, her knees would have wobbled.
Not just sexy. Needy. Sensual.Lethal to her common sense. Her toes threatened to curl with—no, no, no. But there was no denying it. A tendril of desire. As if she craved the touch of a man. This man.
Why, why, why would her body come alive now? Withhim?
The echo of the siren’s song must be responsible for this, too. Or her brain was glitching, mistakenly assuming she stroked her consort. An understandable error, considering muscles felt like muscles.
Just before Blythe’s fingers reached the Astra’s golden happy trail, she rallied enough inner strength to wrench free of his grip and slap him across the face. Once, twice. Thrice.
Angry with them both, she snapped, “Don’t do that again.”
“Don’t aid me then.” He wagged his jaw, as if she’d finally made an impact emotionally if not physically. Those multi-colored striations spun around his pupils, faster and faster. Drawing her closer...
What are you doing?She wrenched away, furious with herself. With him. “I’m going to examine my surroundings, and you are not going to complain.”
“Can we discuss what happened the day of the Astra invasion?” he asked as she darted about. “I’d like a chance to explain.”
Gnashing her teeth against a sudden onslaught of weakness, this one courtesy of Penelope, Blythe put down a crystal vase she’d lifted. “Why bother? Nothing you say can make things right.” An apology wouldn’t restore her consort. An explanation wouldn’t reunite father and daughter, returning Isla’s joy. “You did what you did, and I’ll make you pay for it. End of conversation.”
For now, while she dealt with the wraith, she should probably default to her original plan and do everything in her power to ruin Roux’s mission.
“Very well.” He resumed his dagger sharpening, as if he hadn’t cared about her response. “Allow me to catch you up on our situation.”
“Go for it. I’d love to hear your take.” Opening a door, she discovered a closet brimming with leather dresses reminiscent of those she’d seen on others. The garments hung alongside scantier outfits like the one she wore. “Lucky for you, I’ve got my listening ears on today.”
“We are in the queen’s palace, though there is currently no queen. In ten days, a ten-day tournament will begin. Winner becomes ruler. In the meantime, I will be dating the females who survived their introduction to me.”
“I see.” Irritation surged. Andonlyirritation. Absolutely nothing else. Not in the slightest degree. But. If the Astra thought to satisfy a harem of eager lovers while waiting for the tournament to begin, he needed to think again.
“Tell me about the wraith who marked you,” he said, changing the subject. “Tomorrow, I’ll find her and have the jewel removed from your spirit.”
Blythe yanked a leather dress free from the rack, cracking the wooden hanger. Though it galled and stung her pride, she considered accepting his offer. To kill him, she required full strength. The best way to get it? End Penelope. If he wished to take out her other enemies, who was she to stop him?
“What do you require in return?” With the garment in hand, she eased to the bay of windows and peered out. They were at least twenty stories up, higher than any silo around them. Bonfires and torches crackled here and there, illuminating dirt streets filled with immortals. Fast-paced music thrummed in the background. Laughter rang out.