Page 14 of A Flame of the Phoenix

He twisted his wrists, gripping the dark fae’s and earning a curse as he maneuvered, swiftly switching their positions.

“Still no guards?” Izaiah observed, since they hadn’t come charging in at the commotion.

“When I heard of an oversized black cat, I wanted to hunt it myself.”

Izaiah reached, twisting the key in the lock. “Good.”

Their mouths collided, as hateful as it was passionate. Both of them despised the desire they craved, but like all drugs, they were hard to resist once within reach. Andfuck,was this one insatiable.

There was something thrilling about the forbidden. Delicious about the taste of an enemy. It was a war with feelings as knives, not knowing who could take the most cuts. Bleeding and bleeding, until they were both sure to fall.

Tynan’s hands knew where to touch and where to squeeze. The hand Tynan slipped between them wrapped around his throat. Izaiah battled for that dominance. Tynan hissed with the drag of Izaiah’s claws up his chest, shifting to his preferred black panther form and growing lethal nails that spilled his skin with dark ink.

“Hardly fair,” Tynan muttered.

“But you like it,” he said thickly.

With a primal growl, he pushed Izaiah back, slamming him against the table. It was so deplorable where there were, but neither of them cared. Finding a moment out of sight wasn’t easy.

To everyone beyond, they were perfect enemies.

“Want to tell me what you were doing in here?” Tynan growled against his lips, undoing the buttons of his jacket.

“Want to tell me where they’ve taken Reylan?”

“I’ve told you, I don’t know that.”

Tynan helped him out of the sleeves while untucking his shirt.

It was all Izaiah had to keep his intentions plausible. He’d stuck to that excuse for his reckless roaming since the dark fae had first caught him rifling through the drawing room four weeks ago. It was the first time they’d broke. The maddening tension that had built between them while he’d been captive in the cells months ago couldn’t be contained any longer, and that day was one Izaiah thought about. Often.

“You’re going to get yourself killed,” the dark fae promised.

“Hmm,” Izaiah mumbled, brow pinching at the lips Tynan dragged across his bare, toned torso. “I wouldn’t be doing this with you if I didn’t think that.”

Tynan’s brown eyes flicked up from halfway down his body.

Gods, he was a devastating sight. With dark blond hair, which he’d fantasized running his fingers through too many damn times, and irises that lured him in with a mere flash of attention.

“I won’t be your savior if that happens.”

Izaiah chuckled. “Trust I won’t shed a tear even if you’re the one to wield the sword.”

That caused Tynan to straighten, arms trapping him against the desk.

“What are you hoping to achieve?”

Izaiah groaned, tired of the talking, and reached to grab a fist of Tynan’s shirt.

“Are we doing this, or are you choosing to be loyal to your side and rat me out?”

Conflict furrowed Tynan’s brow, but he folded out of his shirt. “I am loyal to Zaiana,” he said firmly.

Izaiah’s teeth dragged over his bottom lip as he felt up the hard contours of Tynan’s abdomen.

“So while she is unable to give orders in her…current state, she can’t command a thing,” Izaiah said.

Zaiana had been mostly unconscious all this time, and too sickly in the moments she was awake enough to drink. She had people concerned for her, Tynan being one of them. Maverick being the worst.

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