Page 80 of Burning Heir

“If she wants to be a Serpent, she has to handle it,” he barked back, and his hands slid along my thighs—Oh gods. I couldn’t shove him off; whatever he’d given me was too strong. His lips pressed to my neck, inhaling as a gritty tongue licked toward my ear. “You’re mine for the night. Would you like that, Severyn?”

Someone grabbed me from behind. I stared up, my cheek pressed against a thumping chest, and met Archer’s pissed-off expression before a fist pounded into Monty’s jaw. Not shadows, but a blunt punch. “Get your fucking hands off her,” he growled.

Monty spat blood, a grin curling his mouth. “Come on, Archer, I only wanted to know what all those stories were about. Why, every year, the scorpion riders come searching for those freaks.”

“What is he talking about?” I slurred. “It’s a bloody birthmark.” Shit. I gripped the fence lining the drop to the ocean, teetering back on my heels.

Archer’s spliced-knuckled hands reached for me. “Ignore Monty and go to your dorm before you make an even bigger fool of yourself.” Wild blue eyes mimicking the thrashing of wavespoured past me. “I’m about to break every finger of Monty’s that touched you. Perhaps I’ll hang his tongue while I’m at it.”

I ripped away from Archer. “I’m not leaving.”

Archer clenched his jaw, then scooped me into his arms, placing my legs over his shoulder. My arms thrashed and kicked as my head dangled against his chest. “You are infuriating, Blanche. What were you thinking when you took a drink from Monty?” We were nearly halfway across the courtyard already. “Do you intentionally drive me mad?”

Warmth tinged my thighs with Archer’s hold. “Our deal is off,” I hissed.

“Our barter is off when I say it’s off. You drank liquor mixed with phoenix tears. It’s an aphrodisiac that will either make you infatuated for a night or reveal too much about yourself. You obviously cannot handle either of those.”

I gripped the solid muscles of his arms that carried me to my dorm. The eyes on his neck fixated on me. “You’re infuriating and controlling, Mr. Serpent of the Night.” I mimicked his voice the best I could. We passed through a shadow, and the next thing I knew, we were in the Night halls.

“How did you—?”

Archer raised my palm. “Unlock your door. Now.”

I twisted my wrist like a key, and Archer dropped me on my bed. I wiped my brow, ripping the shirt off my boiling body.

“I’m hot,” I said as a sweltering heat grazed my furrowed brow—fanning my palm, I kept my chin upright to stop the spins.

Archer rolled his eyes, throwing a blanket of shadow atop me. “Then take your clothes off. No sense in overheating.”

I sat on my knees, ignoring his crude request. “I know you’re not going to let me die. We’re already bonded. Why else can I hear you in my mind? If I die, you’ll be left weakened just as you were when Klaus died.”

My words were harsh, but damn him for thinking he could control me.

I swallowed a breath of shadows that neared my airways. “There are many ways riders can bond. Your brother and I had a simple ward between us.” He chuckled, “Some riders fuck as a way of initiating the bond. Others quell share. Even a simple kiss is enough to forge a bond. And a rider bond only ensures protection when the other is not around.”

My legs spread a bit, and his eyes went to where I wanted. “And what would you do?”

A shadow pooled along the white linens. Archer slid through, skipping those three steps it would have taken him to walk over.

His mouth neared my ear, one hand skimming the hollow of my neck. “You seem very interested in my answer for someone who refuses to listen to me. You’ve been practicing for Skyfall after I forbid you.” His jaw clenched. “And why am I constantly on your fucking mind when I told you to forget about me?”

I nearly fell into him as his other hand rested on my thigh, tearing into the nylon fabric with his nail. “And overheating is a sure way to die before the poison does it.”

I ground my teeth, slamming back into the pillow. “You are the poison, Archer.”

Those blue eyes devoured me before narrowing to where his stroking thumb knotted in my see-through tights. “Do you want me to stop?” he said slowly, arching his veined neck. “Or can you feel the bond rattling between us, Blanche? We could keep going, and all your reckless little thoughts will be wound within mine.”

I shook my head, trying to find a voice to escape my dried lips. Softly, I responded, “Don’t stop.”

That heat narrowed between my thighs.

Madness. I was mad to want more. For my body to sing from his touch.

He shifted closer, eyes on my lips. I’d regret this, but the burning desire to be touched by him was nothing more than the poison Monty gave me.

Or maybe it was a wicked curation of my wildest thoughts.

Perhaps he was the poison, leaching into my veins until even my blood was dyed with shadows.

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