Steel gleamed as she raised the blade between them, her head cocking to the side in a movement too sharp, too inhuman.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” She stalked toward him, water droplets marking the path of a huntress.
Ronan’s smoke stirred, moving toward her, winding around her ankles, drifting along her legs, testing her. Tasting.
She didn’t flinch this time, didn’t recoil. She leaned into it and the grin she gave could have gutted a lesser man. One fang grazed her lip, splitting skin, coaxing a bead of red to well, rich and bright.
Her tongue swept out, dragging the ruby across her mouth until her lips shone with it.
Flames burn him, that was lethal.
Ronan’s jaw locked so tight he felt the grind. He didn’t dare move, not without revealing the kind of hunger that could level kingdoms. Adjusting his stance would be to admit, and he refused to give her that.
She was supposed to be a disgrace. But godsdamn, she was divine ruin. Meant to solely be survived.
Even masked in death, her scent carried, reaching him, nearly bringing him straight to his knees, a sinful lace of sweetness.
Smoke drew back on his exhale, shadows seeping back until the air between them was clean.
He stepped forward, into the space it left, and said, “Looking for something.”
No lie, no mask. She’d be buried with his truths soon enough.
Her gaze darted, noting the absence of power, the lack of wings. Of every advantage he usually wielded.
The twitch in her mouth showed amusement, more—temptation.
She clicked her tongue. “Wrong move, prince.”
She struck before the echo even settled, moving so fast he nearly faltered to keep up. Steel whispered past his ear, too close. The dagger kissed flesh, carving a thin line of fire across the curve, spraying blood hot against the cold air.
Ronan hissed, more irritation than pain, hand snapping up to the sting, and that instant of distraction was all she needed.
She launched and a second blade appeared, shimmering in her grip as if conjured from air.
Where in hel had she hidden it?
The impact was brutal, staggering him back even as he caught her wrist, the world collapsing in tandem, wood splintering, the bed’s frame scraping before it shattered.
His spine slammed the floor, her thighs locking like iron around his ribs, a cage he could break if he wanted, but didn’t.
Steel found his throat, just enough to promise devastation while her venom dripped onto his chest, burning through the thin fabric of his shirt.
And her body, gods, was pressed into every other part of him as she demanded, “How did you know who I was?”
Ronan didn’t lift a hand. Didn’t try and throw her off. Instead, he let a slow, knowing smirk unfurl across his mouth, letting the dark close in. “Corruption wears many faces.” His breath pebbled across the line of her collarbone. “You don’t hide yours as well as you think.”
The blade stayed at his neck, steady. “You’re lucky you bear that heir mark,” she hissed. “Bleeding you dry right now would make my entire godsdamned week.”
She shifted, rolling her hips as she adjusted her hold, and Ronan, dammit, bit down on the groan clawing up his throat as his control snapped. Her eyes dropped, froze, then went wide, lips parting then shutting again, like she couldn’t quite process what she was seeing.
Ronan huffed a laugh, letting the edge of her dagger bite deeper as he tilted his chin. “You really are a wicked little stray, aren’t you? All bite.”
Her fangs bared, a snarl vibrating through both of them where the dagger punctured deeper. The sting should have woken his fury, his duty, the oath burning against his wrist. Instead, all he felt was heat.
The kind that made him wonder, just for a heartbeat, how her venom would taste if he took it straight from her tongue. That thought, that damn thought, was enough to tip him over the edge.
In a single breath, he moved, rolling them in one violent twist. Her dagger never left his skin as he pinned her to the shattered floorboards, his thighs caging her hips. Her legs stayed locked stubbornly around him, holding him as tightly as he held her down.
