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I spun around to face him, glaring.
The request was reasonable, but the way he said it and the way he looked at me now made it clear he was taking a shot. It wasn’t like him.
“Don’t be jealous,” I said, baring my teeth, fed up with his attitude.
“I promise you I could do so much more for you than any of them ever could.”
My sudden bark of laughter surprised me. “That’s rich coming from someone who hasn’t let me touch him and hasn’t kissed me once. You’re afraid to.”
His brows drew together. “Afraid?”
“You think I haven’t seen you staring at my mouth whenever we get near each other? I’m not a fucking idiot.”
“You think too much of yourself.”
“And you’re a repressed asshole,” I snapped. “You know what? I’m not arguing with you. I’m not doing this. I’m going to see Quinfina tomorrow about putting an end to this.”
He charged me then, pushing me back against the wall beneath the stairs with a firm grip, but not enough to actually hurt me.
Gone was the emotionless front he put up to mask whatever was lurking beneath the surface, replaced by that fury he’d shown both in the kitchen and earlier when we’d started this conversation.
He snatched my jaw and angled my face up, making me gasp as his mouth crashed down on mine.
Our first kiss wasn’t pretty.
It was a fierce clash of teeth and tongue, charged with fury.
I grabbed his shirt, pulling him closer as I kissed him back, giving in to something I’d wanted but refused to admit for too long. As I melted against him, the kiss shifted from frantic to deep and passionate.
The kiss forced my anger to take a backseat, but once I got my wits about me, the cold, hard truth settled back over me: he still didn’t want our bond.
I couldn’t let this continue. Not when he was going to push me away again once reality settled in.
As he groaned into my mouth and pressed his erection against me, the bitter sting of heartbreak spread through me like a toxic shockwave, setting my teeth on edge and igniting a fierce anger I couldn’t suppress.
I lashed out to slap him and make him back off.
His roar of pain as he recoiled, staggering back, made me tense with fear. Would he retaliate?
He straightened and pulled his hand away from his face, allowing me to see the bleeding cut across his cheek.
How had I done that?
I glanced past his shoulder at the large mirror above a side table near the hall, my stomach dropping at what I saw.
The same black eyes, surrounded by spiderweb-like veins spreading across my face, stared back at me just as they had when I was kidnapped. I looked down at my hand and found a blackened claw similar to the guy’s but more delicate and feminine.
I didn’t have much time to process what I was seeing or why it happened because my vision turned spotty and black around the edges.
“Ezra,” I whispered, staggering.
He rushed to me in an instant, grasping my upper arms as if he cared and the fight from earlier hadn’t happened. “Raelynn. Speak to me.”
“I don’t… I don’t feel so good,” I mumbled as the heavy, drunken sensation continued to tug at me, warring with a strange impression of power pushing against what felt like a wall inside of me. The dual sensation made me nauseous.
Before he could respond, the front door banged open, and a tall man with slicked back black hair, vibrant emerald eyes, and a set of large shiny horns stepped into the room flanked by men I didn’t recognize.
Ezra spun, still holding me upright.
