I swat away a butterfly that’s aiming for the dragon mark on his neck. I study the lines that come together to form flickers of flame, and trace one with the tip of my finger until it disappears under the collar of his slashed shirt. Goose bumps skitter up his throat, and a pleased hum sneaks out of me. I like touching him like this, even though I shouldn’t.
“I’ll answer that question, but not here. I know your suit keeps everyone outside of a certain radius from hearing what we’re saying, but I won’t risk it. Ask me again when we’re back in the rookery,” I tell him, and he dips his chin in understanding.
“What does my dragon feel like to you?” I ask offhandedly.
“Ah, ah, ah, you didn’t answer my last question, so it’s still my turn,” he contends.
I huff out a laugh and gesture for him to proceed. We stop dancing and Aeson looks down at me, his countenance reverential and his stare earnest.
“Ever Tenebrae. Will you accept my bond and become my mate?”
Surprise jolts through me at his words. I stare up at him confused. I just told him I stand by my agreement with the king, meaning his question is unnecessary. But as I study his fervent stare, I realize this gesture isn’t about that. Our relationship so far has been rooted in mistrust, posturing, and testing the waters, but we don’t have to continue down that path, not if we don’t want to.
He’s giving us a chance to recalibrate and move forward from a place of mutual understanding and sincerity. He’s giving me the illusion of choice, even though we both know it doesn’t really exist, and it warms the dark recesses of my broken little heart.
I smile up at the commander, but he must see the tinge of sadness in it, because a flicker of apprehension alights in his gaze.
“I will accept your bond and become your mate. But you shouldn’t fall for me, Aeson,” I both confess and warn in the same breath. “Things would be easier for both of us if we just stayed enemies.”
He considers me for a long moment, studying my face like he knows it well enough to follow its clues to help uncover what he wants to know.
“We were never truly enemies, Claws,” he tells me gently, and his fingertips whisper just as gently across my back as he traces the ridges of my spine.
I fight off a shiver and blink away the spell his intense gaze is trying to cast on me.
“Maybe not,” I agree with a shrug. “But give it time. I’m sure we’ll get there.”
The music stops and the crowd around us begins to applaud. A drop of blood from Aeson’s cheek spills onto mine, and it slips down my face like a tear, which feels oddly symbolic.
“That doesn’t scare me, Claws. I like a challenge,” he professes, the glint in his gaze eager and determined.
“I’m counting on it,” I murmur, and then I step out of his arms and walk away.
Chapter 41
I NEED TO GET OUT of here. There’s a conflagration of lust trying to consume every inch of my body, and if I don’t find somewhere to cool off, I’m going to go up in flames any second now. It’s ridiculous. I shouldn’t be this hot and bothered simply from being pressed up against Aeson Noctis for only a handful of minutes, and certainly not while I’m wearing an alarming amount of his blood. But it’s as though acknowledging this bond between us has somehow strengthened it, and now my head and body are a tandem riot of lascivious longing.
His touch, that smug smile he favors, the way his eyes become a deeper blue when he’s digging between the lines of everything I say—I can’t get any of it out of my head. I’m fixated, which is really fucking inconvenient, because I have enough shit to worry about. I don’t need Aeson Noctis and this bond trying to weasel its way higher up on my list.
My vision tunnels toward the exit I used to sneak into the ballroom earlier. I just need to make it past the columns, and then I’m free. Free to question everything that I’m doing here. Free to lock myself in my room, get myself off, and scream my release into a pillow so no one can hear me. Free to freak out about the fact that the commander is my Bonded fucking Mate.
Someone calls my name, but I ignore them. I can’t stop or I’m going to spontaneously combust.
Escape is fifteen feet away.
Twelve feet.
Nine.
I’ve set one heel in the shadows of the columns when, out of nowhere, I’m tackled from behind. Shock slows my reaction, and a large palm over my mouth stifles my cry of alarm. I start to fight back, but the next thing I know, my back is plastered to the cold stone of a column, and Aeson’s there, looming over me, his eyes blazing with hunger.
His chest rises and falls with quick breaths, the motion teasing my nipples as he wedges a muscular leg between my thighs and drops his head until his lips skim the shell of my ear. His hand moves from my mouth and wraps possessively around my throat.
“I believe I was clear what would happen if you kept running from me,” he growls in my ear.
I gasp as he nips my earlobe, and I automatically grind down on his thigh in search of friction, frantic for relief. He purrs with satisfaction and pulls back to look at me. The cuts on his face and hands have healed, leaving only lines of blood as evidence that they were ever there. His suit jacket is sliced up beyond saving, and the few butterflies that I have left around me get to work destroying it completely.
“You may not know this about me yet, Claws, but I’m a man of my word. I do not make idle threats, and I do not back down…ever.”
