Okay, so he might have underestimated his mate’s fierceness in battle. But at least now the odds weren’t tipped in her favor. He was free, she was disarmed, and despite the fact that he was still weakened from the silver, he had one up on her in strength. Problem was, he wasn’t interested in hurting her. “Calm down!” he barked as he tried to catch his breath. She kicked her leg straight back, catching him in the knee. “Damn it, stop!” he shouted from between clenched teeth as he braced himself against the wall to keep from buckling. She reared back, slamming the back of her head into his face. The cartilage in Ronan’s nose popped and a sticky trickle of blood ran down and dripped from his upper lip. His fangs throbbed and the scent of his own blood threatened to send him into a frenzy. “Naya! I said, stop!”
They both froze, and Ronan wasn’t sure which one of them was more shocked. He released his grip on her and swiped at the blood trickling from his nose as the cartilage healed. That was her name: Naya. But how in the hell did he know that?
“I knew you were lying to me!” Naya seethed as she rushed to the wall where he’d thrown her dagger. Ronan wondered at the hurt in her voice. As if she couldn’t believe he’d betray her. Perhaps she’d recognized their tether after all? She pulled the dagger out of the drywall and muttered almost to herself, “I should have taken care of this last night when I found you in that parking lot.”
If she wanted to continue to fight, she couldn’t possibly have felt their bond. Then again, maybe she was the sort of female who liked to play rough. A thrill chased through Ronan’s blood as he tried to clear the haze of lust that settled on his brain. The situation had gone from zero to FUBAR in less than a second. He needed to contain her, to calm her down. He could’ve fought back, but what would that accomplish? One of them—more than likely Naya—would get hurt. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t defend himself if need be. Ronan could handle himself just fine, thank you very much. He leaned against the wall, watched as she advanced on him, dagger in hand, a look of pure malice on her beautiful face. This was a female who dealt in violence. Dangerous. And fucking hot. He had no intention of dying, though. Not today, anyway.
“Let’s pick up where we left off, huh?” Naya leveled the tip of the dagger so it hovered over Ronan’s heart. “Why are you here and how do you know my name?”
The time for playfulness and charm had long since passed. If Ronan didn’t want the situation to escalate he had two options: One, he could disarm her yet again and show her just what it felt like to be bound in silver against her will. Or two …
With the speed of a cobra’s strike Ronan seized the dagger from her grip and pulled her into his embrace. Practicality took a backseat to need as his bloodlust mounted, his desire for the female in his arms building to a fevered pitch. The scent of her blood drove him mad, her unyielding body held tight against him an unspoken challenge. She was an untamed thing, caught in his arms, and Ronan was determined to master her.
Her palms found his chest as his mouth descended on hers. She shoved at him before her fingers curled, her nails biting into his flesh. A flash of heat stole over Ronan’s skin and he welcomed the burn that complemented the sting of Naya’s nails. He flicked out with his tongue at the seam of her lips and she went liquid in his embrace, opening her mouth to deepen the kiss as she gripped at his shoulders to pull him closer.
His cock throbbed in time with his heartbeat and his fangs ached in his gums. The more he gave himself over to his lust, the hotter his blood coursed. Fiery heat licked up his spine, lashing out over his flesh like a whip. He pushed the pain to the back of his mind. Ronan held Naya, cupping the back of her neck with his palm. The tenuous grip he had on his control slipped another notch. Her scent was heaven. A rich bloom of tropical flowers, rain, and sunlight.
If he didn’t taste her, he’d go out of his fucking mind.
He broke the kiss only to bury his face against her throat. Naya stiffened in his arms and he reached up, stroking gently over her jaw with his thumb. Too far gone to bloodlust for more than that single act of gentleness, Ronan jerked her T-shirt aside and buried his fangs into the tender flesh where her neck sloped down to meet her shoulder.
Ah, gods!
From the first deep pull on her vein he was lost. Thick and sweet, her blood spilled over his tongue, a heady nectar that had no equal. He wanted to glut himself on her blood. Lap every last drop from her skin. An almost inaudible sigh escaped Naya’s lips and she once again became pliant against him. Her hips rolled into his and Ronan’s sac tightened. With a grunt he shoved his free hand between them, plunging past the waistband of her pants and underwear to cup her heated sex in his palm. Her slick arousal coated his fingers and Ronan worked his fingers through the swollen folds as he continued to drink from her.