Page 55 of Bound to the Dreadlord

That is the moment I snap.

The distance between us vanishes.

I grab her by the waist, the throat, the back of her neck—I don’t know.

I only know that one moment, we are speaking, and the next, I am claiming her mouth with mine.

Not soft. Not gentle.

This is war.

Teeth graze. Hands grip.

She pushes back.

Claws at me, meets my hunger with her own.

A deep sound rumbles from my throat as I press her against the war table, the maps beneath us forgotten.

She tastes like defiance.

Like a challenge.

Like something I cannot control.

I want to drown in it.

The kiss is not enough.

Nothing is enough.

I press in, pull her closer, claim her the way I have wanted to since the moment I first heard her sing.

She gasps into my mouth, sharp and breathless.

I devour the sound.

I want to take, ruin, own.

Her nails bite into my shoulders, a ragged sound escaping her lips as she tilts her head back, giving me more.

I take it.

I take all of it.

By the time we break apart, we are breathing like we have survived battle.

Her lips are swollen. My grip on her is too tight.

My chest heaves.

I look at her—really look at her.

And something shifts.

Something dangerous.

Something irreversible.

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