I stared at him, my breath catching in my throat. “You—what? To make these ribbons for me? You’ll be unarmed.”
Without a thundervein weapon, he’d be at a great disadvantage against a demon—and now was when we’d need it most.
He smiled at me, that gods-damned dimple flashing in his cheek. “I’m never unarmed, Rubi.”
Blake’s hand reached to where he kept his thundervein dagger, pulling out a near twin, though the etchings were different.
Putting my ribbons down on the bedside table, I stood and walked toward him, examining the blade nearer to its pulsing power.
“What…” My voice trailed off, eyes darting up to his, carefully watching him.
A heavy sigh left his lips. “I melted mine down. This was my brother’s, Zayden’s. The twin blade to mine.”
Twin thundervein blades given to the Twin Blades.
“I didn’t know that.”
He shrugged again, belying the grief behind his confession. “I’ve kept it for so long, hidden away. It hurt too much to even look at it for a long time.”
But he’d done it, for me. My vision blurred as I blinked away tears, shaking my head.
He grinned and stroked my cheek, brushing a tear away. “Anyway, you needed it more than I did. Because I am quite competent with a wide variety of weapons, while you—”
“Shut up,” I said, reaching on my toes to slap a hand over his mouth. I felt him smile against my palm before he placed a kiss there.
“I understand what this means, Blake. Thank you.”
He rubbed at the back of his neck again and smiled. “Use it wisely.”
I nodded and pressed a hand over my heart. “I swear. I won’t use it against you.”
Blake laughed and shook his head. “You should go back to your rooms. Get some sleep before tomorrow,” he said, but his eyes told me something different.
My stomach muscles pulled tight.
“I’m not tired,” I said, putting my new gifted weapon on the side table and sitting on his bed, then leaning backward on my elbows, stretching out my body in invitation.
“No?” he asked, eyes lighting up at my words. “Perhaps I can help with that.”
He sank his knee into the mattress between my legs, his hands planting into the comforter on either side of my head. Blake dipped his head to my neck, pressing a long, slow kiss to the skin, before pulling gently with his mouth.
A low, involuntary moan slipped past my lips, and Blake’s eyes flashed dangerously. There was no more hesitation. His mouth came down on mine, hard, ravenous, like he was claiming something he’d waited far too long for.
His tongue slipped between my lips, deep and forceful, tasting, claiming, leaving no room for anything but the searing passion between us. I tilted my head, desperate for more of him, pulling him against me, reveling in the heavy weight of him, feeling him shift and harden against me. He rested his weight on one elbow, never breaking our kiss as the fingers of his free hand slid beneath the hem of my tunic, tracing up the curve of my waist.
“Why is it the night you’re in my bed,” he whispered against my lips, yanking on my long tunic, “you’re wearing something practical to sleep in?”
His fingers inched higher, until he found the swell of my breast. I gasped as his rough fingertips rolled my nipple, a jolt of pleasure spiraling straight to my core. He was squeezing just hard enough to make me shudder, my legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him closer, needing him closer.
“I’d prefer one of those ridiculous skimpy nightdresses you like to wear to tease me.”
“Tease you?” I gasped. “I was not.”
“You were,” he insisted, pulling back for a moment, his hands settling on my hips to lift me closer, my core pressing to his hardness. “It was torture.”
My hips arched instinctively against him, seeking more contact, more friction, as if I could somehow fuse myself with the molten heat of him. He leaned down again to kiss me, more ferocious this time. He bit down on my bottom lip, the sharpness of it sending sparks dancing across my vision, and I whimpered, the sound full of desperation and want.
“Tell me I can have you, songbird,” he begged, pulling his shift up and over his head. Warm and handsome and breathtaking in the dim firelight of his room, every muscle and dip and valley played upon by the shadows and light. “Please, tell me you want this, too.”
