Rhyland snorts. "Under control? Is that what you call nearly getting your throat slit by a bunch of filthy pirates?"
I grin, twirling my still-flaming daggers in my hands. "Hey, it's not my fault they underestimated the power of a pissed-off angel with a set of magic daggers."
Rhyland stalks towards me. His movements are predatory and deliberate, like a wolf closing in on its prey. His chest rises and falls with each breath, his emotions bleeding into me through our bond like a tidal wave crashing against the shore.
Oh yeah, he'sfuckingpissed.
The kind of anger that simmers beneath the surface, waiting to explode. But there's more than just rage coursing through him. I can feel the adrenaline pumping through his veins, the relief that I'm still standing, still breathing. But above all else, there's the fury, the searing wrath of an alpha male whose mate has defied him not once buttwice.
I drop my flaming daggers to the floor. A surrender?
He reaches out, his hand wrapping around my throat like a vise, his fingers digging gently into my skin with slight pressure. I moan at the contact.
"Dani," he growls, his voice low and dangerous, sending heat straight to my core. "I will punish you for this. You've gone against me twice today in a matter of an hour."
I look at the blood on his mouth, the crimson stains painting his lips like a deadly work of art. My eyes trace back up to his, those swirling storms of blue that seem to pierce straight through to my soul. "What are you going do, babe?" I taunt, my breath ghosting across his skin, my lips so close to his that I can almost taste the coppery tang of blood.
The tension between us is electric, a palpable force that crackles and sizzles like a live wire. I can feel the heat of his body pressed against mine, the hard planes of his muscles molding to the soft curves of my own. His cock is rock-hard against mystomach. It's intoxicating, the way he makes me feel and sets my blood on fire with just a touch, just a look.
Rhyland's grip on my throat tightens, his fingers flexing against my skin in a silent warning. "You're playing with fire, Little Angel," he rumbles, his voice a low, feral growl that makes my toes curl. "You know what happens when you push me too far."
Oh, I do.
And right now, I'm so goddamn turned on it's not even funny. When your man's out there looking like a Viking god of war and destruction, morals tend to take a backseat to pure, unadulterated lust.
I arch an eyebrow. "Maybe I like playing with fire," I purr. "Maybe I want to see how far I can push you before you snap."
Rhyland's eyes flash with an almost feral hunger, a primal need threatening to consume us both. "Be careful what you wish for, baby," he warns."You might just get it."
I lean in closer, my breath hot and heavy against his skin. "Promise?" I whisper a mix of sass and seduction, a challenge and an invitation all rolled into one.
I know I'm pushing him, pressing all his buttons like a kid in an elevator, but damn, I can't help myself. There's just something about how Rhyland's punishments make me feel, the way they set every nerve ending in my body on fire and leave me craving more. Call me twisted. I'm addicted to the rush, the thrill of knowing that I can drive him to the brink of madness just the same.
I know he'll never hurt me, not really. Oh, he might leave a few delicious bruises, might make me scream and beg and plead for mercy, but it's all part of the game we play. Because beneath all that alpha male dominance, the growls, snarls, and fierce possessiveness, there's a love that's so deep, so pure, it makes my heart ache.
Rhyland would rather cut off his arm than cause me any actual harm, and that knowledge is like a safety net, a cocoon of warmth and security that allows me to push him to the limit, to dance on the edge of the knife without fear of falling.
Maybe I am a sick bitch, a glutton for punishment who gets off on riling up her man until he's ready to explode. But you know what? I wouldn't have it any other way. Because in the end, when the pain fades and the pleasure takes over, when Rhyland holds me in his arms and whispers words of love and devotion against my skin, I know that every moment, every challenge, every push, and pull of our twisted little dance, is worth it.
And if that makes me a twisted bitch, well, so be it. I'll wear that label like a badge of fucking honor.
Rhyland growls, his grip just shy of cutting off my air supply. "You have no idea what you're in for, baby," he promises—a dark, sensual purr that weakens my knees. "But you're about to find out."
Rhyland
59
The desire to punish my angel is a raging inferno inside me, but I've got bigger issues to deal with right now—namely, that cocksucker Bloodbane. I storm up to the upper deck, Dani hot on my heels, and it's like stepping into a goddamn war zone. Gideon's crew and Bloodbane's are going at it like rabid dogs, the clash of steel and the screams of the wounded filling the air like a fucked-up symphony.
We'd swung over and boarded Bloodbane's ship as soon as we got within spitting distance, and now it's all hands on deck—literally. I catch a glimpse of Erik in the middle of the shitstorm, his sword flashing in the sunlight as he cuts down pirates left and right like they're nothing more than fucking weeds. The stubborn bastard's back to his old self now that he's got some fresh blood pumping through his veins, and he's unleashing holy hell on these poor, unsuspecting fucks.
And then, like a bolt from the blue, I spot Bloodbane. The fucker's right there, in the thick of it all, and I don't waste a single goddamn second. I blur to him faster than a blink of an eye; my fangs bared in a snarl as I sink them deep into his neck with a sickening crunch. The bastard squirms and fights like a man possessed, his strength almost a match for my own, but I'm running on pure, unadulterated rage now, and no force in heaven or hell can stop me.
The metallic taste of blood floods my mouth as I rip and tear, my jaw locking like a fucking pit bull. With a vicious jerk of my head, I tear his throat out, unleashing a geyser of crimson that paints the deck in gruesome splatter.
Bloodbane's scream turns into a wet, gurgling rasp, the sound of a man drowning in his blood. I flip him onto his back, the impact echoing like a thunderclap across the ship. His eyes, wide with terror and disbelief, lock onto mine as I callupon my power.
The air around us crackles with energy as I focus my telekinesis, forcing his blood to choke him from the inside out. I can feel every pulse, every desperate attempt to breathe as I squeeze tighter and tighter. Bloodbane's body convulses, his hands clawing at his throat as if he could somehow stop the inevitable.
