Page 81 of Empire of Flame and Thorns

Sliding both hands into my hair, he pulls me closer and kisses me back so fiercely that I gasp into his mouth. He bites my bottom lip, sending a jolt through my spine. My mind spins as his tongue tangles with mine. Oh fuck, he tastes like wind and rain and lightning. Like fire and sin. And my undoing.

I slide my hand up to the back of his head, raking my fingers through his hair and pressing his lips harder against mine while he dominates my mouth. Whatever air manages to make it into my lungs is snatched right out again with every commanding stroke of his tongue.

It takes me longer than I want to admit to remember thatIwas supposed to be in control of this. I was supposed to be the one holding the power here.

He kisses me like he’s fighting a war. Like he’s trying to make me surrender my whole soul to him. And Goddess above, when he grips my hair and dominates my mouth like this, I’m almost tempted to do it.

While still kissing him furiously, I reach up and press my other hand against his chest. A low noise comes from the back of his throat when I touch him. Taking a step forward, I start moving us away from the wall of windows.

He lets me back him across the room while still kissing me senseless.

It takes everything I have to keep my mind from malfunctioning every time his lips press against mine. No one has ever touched me like this before. Kissed me like this before. As if he can’t breathe without me.

Wood and metal clank as we hit the desk and the back of Draven’s thighs sends it sliding back and banging against the wall. I draw my hand down his chest and then reach up and grip his wrist. With my mouth still on his, I move one of his hands from my hair and down to my hip. Another low moan escapes him as I roll my hips against him before pulling my hand back. His fingers skim over my hipbone, making my short nightgown slide upwards. Pleasure skitters down my spine.

I reach forward, past his hip.

And then snap the manacle shut around his wrist.

He sucks in a sharp breath as I wrench myself away from him and leap backwards out of his reach.

Utter incredulity shines on his whole face as he stares at me.

His chest heaves and his hair is slightly mussed from when I raked my hand through it.

He looks completely and thoroughly kissed.

And confused.

Eyes wide with stunned disbelief, he glances down at the handcuffs that now trap him to the desk.

I flash him a wicked grin as I back towards the door. “That’s what you get for leaving me unsatisfied last night.”

Then I wink and, at long last, escape right out the still unlocked door.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

To say that Draven is looking murderous would be the understatement of the decade. The flames in his eyes could have set a medium-sized ice palace on fire. He flexes his hand, and a muscle flickers in his jaw, as he glares at me from across the large gathering hall.

I blow him a kiss.

Lightning flashes across his face. And if it weren’t for the fact that his precious Iceheart monarchs were seated not three strides away from him, I’m pretty sure that he would have stormed across the room and killed me on the spot.

“Uhm…” Fenriel begins from next to me. His blue and gold eyes flick between me and Draven. “What’s that all about?”

“Oh he’s just angry that I managed to recover in time for the trial,” I reply with a light shrug.

It’s a lie. But a fairly innocent one. The other contestants don’t know that Draven has kept me locked up in his room these past three days. Or that he had the leader of the Orange Dragon Clan heal me after the attack. They all think that I’ve spent the past three days in an infirmary or something, slowly healing from my wounds. And I haven’t corrected them because… well, because it’s too complicated to try to explain everything that hasbeen happening between me and Draven. So after I escaped, I just returned to my own room as if nothing had happened.

“Huh,” Fenriel replies. “And he tried to put a target on your back during the commencement ball too.” A contemplative look blows across his narrow face as he pushes a few long red strands of hair back behind his pointed ear. “What even is the deal with you two?”

Before I can try to figure out how to reply to that, Imar strides through the door and into the large gathering hall. A ripple goes through the remaining contestants who crowd the floor around me.

“Welcome to the third trial,” Imar says as he comes to a halt in front of us and clasps his hands behind his back. “Today, we will weed out the last dregs of unworthy ingrates before the fourth and final trial.”

Anger flickers through me, and I can barely stop myself from scowling at the trial administrator. Unworthy ingrates? We have nothing to be grateful for. And we are already worthy. I clench my fist. By Mabona, as soon as I win these trials, I’m going to make sure that people like him never set foot in our court again.

“Today,” Imar continues, “you will face twenty-four opponents.”

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