But Legion clicks his tongue. I meet his gaze and find acceptance. Arousal. Need.

  “Let me see,” he says again, his voice raw.

  I did that to him.

  Reduced him to … this.

  It’s the encouragement I need to keep going.

  Circling my fingers around my clit, I focus on my pleasure. Legion makes a sound of approval. I glance up from where he’s pumping his cock, and he nods at me.

  “Don’t stop, little poisoner. Show me how you like it.”

  I push one finger into my pussy. Then two. My breath catches at the delicious sensations of it. Not just touching myself but having him watch me do it. Legion adjusts himself in his chair, and I know he’s fighting the urge to reach over and offer his own fingers for assistance.

  “You are so fucking gorgeous,” he says.

  I increase my pace, rubbing my thumb over my clit. My breathing sharpens, and Legion pumps himself faster. It’s incredibly erotic watching him watch me. I can feel my orgasm already building.

  His eyes are intensely focused on me, but he’s no longer watching my pussy. He’s staring right at me. Into my eyes. Seeing parts of me I’ve never shown a single soul.

  It’s the way he slips past all my defenses that has me gasping as I come. Pleasure washes over me in waves, more powerful than any orgasm I’ve ever experienced alone.

  Across from me, Legion leans back, pumping himself faster, until his own release has him groaning.

  I feel his relief almost as sharply as my own when his orgasm hits. It’s the first glimpse of emotion I’ve felt from him. The first moment I sensed anything through the mate bond.

  It startles me.

  I wonder if he felt it too.

  When I meet his gaze, the hunger is still there, still poised on the edge of a knife. But I notice a smug possession that hadn’t been there before. I don’t know what to do with that—especially while I’m still naked and more vulnerable than any lack of clothing could cause.

  “That was so fucking sexy,” he says.

  The way he watches me robs me of my voice. “I…”

  “I may not have cursed you on purpose, but your curse is mine to break,” he adds, his voice rough.

  I look up at him, hope and fear and need and what feels a lot like trust all blooming inside me.

  “I’m going to find a way to touch you.”

  His words ignite a hope inside me that is scarier than any threat to my life.

  “You don’t believe me,” he says.

  I look away, emotion swirling, threatening to pull me under. “It’s easier to hate you,” I whisper.

  “Then hate me, my little assassin. Even while you come for me, while you scream my name and beg for more, loathe me. It won’t stop me from claiming you in the end. From killing for you. From draining you of every drop of cursed poison in your veins. You’re mine, little poisoner. There’s nothing you can do to change that.”

  Chapter 19

  Legion

  Late into the evening, I pace my study where traces of her scent still linger. The heat from the crackling fire is nothing compared to my own raging emotions. Not being able to touch her is fucking with my head. Even with Februlune behind me, the darkness threatens to take hold. The longer I resist her, the closer to the edge I veer.

  Knowing I’m the reason for her curse only makes my torture worse. Telling her the truth about it would paint me as the monster. Then again, I’ve never pretended to be anything else.

  A light scraping sounds at the window. I look up to see a hawk staring in at me. Its gaze is sharp and pointed as it watches me stalk over to the ledge where it waits. I push the glass open and pull the string tied to its ankle. A piece of parchment comes loose. The moment the message is in my hands, the hawk flies off.

  Unrolling the paper, I read the note.

  The Western Isles are secure. Suspect in custody. -Caius

  I frown, walking to the fire and dropping the parchment into the flames. The news is good. It means the threat at the wall is behind us. But I can’t help but feel as if something much bigger is on the horizon. A threat I’ve yet to identify. One that will attempt to take from me the one thing I never thought I’d want in the first place.

  Tori’s presence through the mate bond makes it impossible to think of anything else. Not while both moons are still full.

  I need to see her. To feel her. To know that she’s safe. My dragon will not rest until he’s reassured.

  Storming from the room, I follow the scent of her straight to the library. Shoving the doors open, I find her bent over the table, studying a thick volume. She jumps at my sudden arrival, but I bury my guilt at startling her. Besides, the shadow beast inside me is all about hunting its prey. Seeing her off balance only feeds his enjoyment.

  “What do you want?” she asks warily, candlelight dancing over her cheeks.

  I don’t answer her.

  Instead, I keep going, crowding her until she scrambles back and runs right into the wall of shelving. Her eyes are wide, and her lips part as she brings her gaze to mine, her head tilting to accommodate our height difference.

  Her scarf and gloves are gone.

  Getting this close is dangerous. But so is staying away.

  “You look so fucking sexy,” I growl.

  Her expression flickers with surprise. “Don’t…”

  “Don’t what?”

  “Don’t talk to me like that.”

  “You don’t want to hear flattery?”

  “Not from you,” she says.

  Her thudding heart contradicts her words. As does her scent.

  My lips curve. “Liar.”

  Her eyes narrow, and I watch, enjoying the way her temper creeps up on her slowly. It’s fucking amazing to watch her get worked up like this. My cock hardens, painfully erect against my pants.

  “Why aren’t you wearing your scarf?” I demand.

  “Because I was alone,” she says pointedly. “I thought I was safe.”

  “You’re never safe from me, little assassin.”

  Her chin comes up in defiance. “I told you before, you don’t scare me.”

  “Noted. I’ll try harder.”

  Before she can argue, I reach down and stroke her clit through her pants. She gasps, jolting a little at the unexpected contact, but she doesn’t attempt to pull herself away. The fabric of her pants is just thin enough that I can feel the shape of her. Just like I can feel the way she tenses at my touch, arching into my hand ever so slightly.

  “What are you doing?” she whispers.

  Her eyes are locked on mine now, her breath shallow as she watches me intently.

  “I’m reminding you what you have to be afraid of.”

  “You aren’t going to hurt me,” she says, a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes.

  “I never said I would. But you’re just as scared of pleasure, aren’t you?”

  She bites her lip, and I increase the pressure of my hand, rubbing her harder. She presses into my touch ever so slightly, and my cock throbs.

  “Even if I could…” she trails off, unwilling to say the words, which only makes me increase the pace. The need to see her come apart, in any way I can, drives me onward.

  “Even if you could,” I prompt.

  Her eyes darken, and the scent of her lust grows stronger. I inhale, my gaze dropping to her mouth. To where her tongue darts out to wet her lips. Fuck. I want her so bad.

  “If I could touch you,” she whispers, “I wouldn’t let you claim me.”

  “You sure about that, assassin?”

  She doesn’t answer me, and I watch as she tips her head back against the shelving, her eyes closing lazily. “No,” I growl, flicking her clit hard enough to make her jump. Her eyes fly open. “Don’t you dare look away.”

  I stroke her clit, flicking it and teasing it as she arches toward my hand.

  “Eyes on me, do you understand?”

  She nods.

  With my free hand, I cup her breast through her thin shirt. My blood heats as I realize she’s not wearing a bra. Through the fabric, my thumb and finger find her nipple, flicking it and pulling it as I rub her clit harder.

  “Legion,” she whispers, her gaze pleading with me now.

  “That’s it, little assassin,” I whisper, leaning in close to her exposed mouth. So fucking close. “Hate me. Even as you come for me.”

  “Please,” she pants, breathless.

  “Now,” I demand and am rewarded with a soft moan as she finally falls apart in my hands.

  Chapter 20

  Tori

  The orgasm shatters me. It’s almost embarrassing how easily I come considering we didn’t actually have sex or even remove our clothes. But his gaze is unwavering even after I’ve quieted. And he still hasn’t removed his hand from where it rests against my clit.

  It’s like he refuses to give me the space I need to collect myself. In fact, I get the distinct impression he might not be finished with me yet.

  “That was…”

  I don’t know how to finish. Mostly because I can’t bring myself to compliment him even now. Because, in this moment, I want to do more than compliment him. I want to open for him, let him protect me, take care of me. Maybe it’s not a matter of wanting. Maybe I just don’t know how.

  As predicted, he smirks in triumph. “Yes?”

  “A surprise.”

  His smile widens. Still, he doesn’t take his eyes off me. It’s unnerving the way his gaze leaves me nowhere to hide. Heat pulses between my legs, wanting round two. Wanting nothing between us when I come again.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “I want to kiss you,” he says quietly. “Very, very badly.”

  “Oh.” My breath hitches, and I find myself studying his mouth.

  The full lips. Thick stubble. I reach over and slowly slide my glove back on. He watches, silent, as I lift my hand and run my gloved fingers over his cheek.

  His eyes darken with a lust I can feel building all over again inside me. His fingers move against my clit. I run my hand along his jaw and over his mouth. He makes a sound like a growl and nips at my fingertips then presses his lips to my gloved palm.

  It’s erotic but also incredibly sweet, and I find myself fighting the urge to peel my clothes off for him. My poisoned skin has been my armor, but suddenly, it’s a barrier too.

  As if he’s trying to torture me, he steps back and peels off his shirt. Then he returns to where he stood before, leaning closer than is safe. His fingertips brush my clit again, and I nearly purr in pleasure.

  With his other hand, he grabs my gloved wrist and presses my palm to his now-bared skin. Slowly, I run my hand over his broad chest and rippled abs, tracing the dragon tattoo that covers half his chest and biceps. He shudders beneath my touch, and, for the first time since we met, I realize I hold just as much power over him as he does over me.

  It's thrilling.

  In this moment, I can’t remember my reasons for not wanting him. Or for hating him at all. The death dragon is mine to command. Mine to pleasure.

  Slowly, almost lazily, his hand starts to move against me again. Despite my orgasm from a moment ago, I grit my teeth against the frustration of wanting another one. No, not just another orgasm. His body touching mine. His fingers inside me. His cock⁠—

  “What are we doing?” I whisper.

  I expect him to answer snarkily about testing one another. Instead, he surprises me by speaking earnestly. “I want to help you break this curse. And then I want to make you come with my bare hands over and over and over again.”

  He watches me, his expression tense with a concentration that makes it hard for me to think or even breathe.

  “Will you let me help you?” he asks.

  “I…” My thoughts are jumbled. I try to think past the distraction of his body. Gods, he’s beautiful, though. And the delicious torment of his touch, even through the fabric of my clothing, is enough to make me agree to almost anything.

  His eyes flash, the dragon slits peering back at me for a blink before they become once again human irises. “What was that?” I ask.

  “My beast is very close to the surface,” he admits.

  “Because of the moons?”

  “Because he wants to protect you.”

  “You…you call yourself a shadow beast,” I say. “What exactly does that mean?”

  More importantly, what am I getting myself into if I agree to let him help me?

  “This world contains a dark magic that permeates everything and everyone in it. Whatever power or gifts we brought with us, the realm took those gifts and infused them with its own nature.”

  “What nature is that?”

  “One filled with shadows. In those shadows, we are brought closer to the spaces between life and death. We are made stronger by these shadow spaces. Or we are ruled by them.”

  “What happens if you’re ruled by the shadows?”

  “Madness.”

  I swallow hard, fairly sure I should be frightened by that answer. “How do you keep from letting that happen?”

  “There are several factors,” he says, watching me closely. “The most powerful of all is the primal hunt ceremony.”

  “What’s that?”

  “A celebration where a mated couple is officially announced in front of everyone.”

  “Chaya told me about that. It’s like a wedding, right?”

  “Sort of.”

  I try to decipher his expression with a growing sense of unease. “Why do I sense that it’s actually nothing like a wedding?”

  “As part of the ceremony, one mate hunts the other. When they’re caught, the mating is consummated.”

  My mouth falls open. “In front of everyone?”

  “The hunt usually takes place in the woods, but yes.”

  My mind reels back, searching for a safer topic, but there really isn’t one. Not in this line of questioning. “And if you don’t claim your mate or complete the primal hunt or whatever… you go mad?”

  “I am stronger than the shadows, little assassin. Immortal and unkillable. It will take much more than a dark nature to bring me down.”

  I shudder, despite his reassurances, caught up in the twisted picture he’s painting. It feels like a lot of pressure, suddenly, to help keep him sane.

  “Okay,” I whisper. “I’ll let you help me.”

  “In that case…” He leans closer, and for a wild moment, I think he’s going to kiss me. But then he pulls back, easing away from me.

  I feel cold at the sudden loss of his presence and wrap my arms around myself to keep from shivering.

  “Get some sleep, assassin. Tomorrow will be a busy day.”

  Chapter 21

  Legion

  Aknock at my bedroom door has me hurrying to answer it. The hour is late, but I’m already bracing for another crisis. Chaya stands on the other side. The moment she sees me, her sharp gaze sweeps me, assessing. I don’t bother to answer the only question she came here to ask. If I’d claimed Tori, she’d scent it. And I certainly wouldn’t be in bed alone if I had.

  “Is everything all right?” I ask.

  She lifts a brow. “Why do you always assume something’s wrong?”

  “Habit.” I hesitate and then add, “But is it?”

  “Everything’s fine. I just wanted you to know everyone’s safe and accounted for.” She studies me. “How did everything go here?”

  I swipe a hand down my face, unsure where to even begin.

  Chaya smirks. “That good, huh?”

  “The sisters decided to walk to town this morning.”

  Her eyes widen. “What? Why would you let them do that?”

  “I was out,” I say, feeling defensive at the reminder of the danger I allowed.

  “Are they okay?”

  “They’re fine.”

  “Uh-huh. And you?”

  The moon fever. She insisted I should have left today and let her stay to guard the sisters, but my obsession wouldn’t allow it. I don’t bother to tell her that, if the circumstances haven’t changed before the next double moons, I’m going to do more than leave. A few months ago, I locked Styx up to keep her from hunting her mate; she’ll do the same for me if I ask. The problem is I’m not sure the madness won’t be permanent by then. Not to mention I have no idea how to keep a beast like mine chained.

  “I handled it.”

  I can see she has questions, but she doesn’t press it. “As long as everyone’s in one piece.” She turns to go, adding over her shoulder, “Klyn sent word to meet him in half an hour.”

  “He’s back already?” I ask, frowning.

  She shrugs as she pads silently down the hall. “’Night.”

  Klyn is already waiting for me at the edge of the garden when I make my way out just after midnight. His hooded silhouette is nearly invisible against the backdrop of thick trees, but my senses are keen. Impatience has me quickening my pace to meet him. Half my thoughts are still on Tori and the way she responded to my touch earlier. A touch that only left me craving her even more. The other half are on her words. She agreed to let me help her. To stop fighting me. It’s the closest thing to a truce we’ve achieved, and I don’t intend to waste it.

  At my approach, Klyn looks up from where he’s studying one of the rosebushes. His recon mission didn’t last nearly as long as I expected, and I can’t tell if that’s good or bad.

  “What did you find?” I ask.

  “Hello to you too,” Klyn says wryly.

  “Hello,” I grumble. “What did you find?”

  “Did you see this?” he asks, pointing to the bush.

  “I’ve seen it a thousand times,” I say, impatience making my tone curt. “They’re roses⁠—”

  “Not the roses. These dark vines covering them.”

  He moves aside. In the darkness, I note thick, charcoal-colored vines weaving through the branches and wrapping tightly around the rosebuds trying to unfurl. I scowl, ready to blast him for wasting my time on harmless ivy, but my eyes track the vines where they continue creeping beyond the rosebushes. Since the last time I stood here—mere days ago—the vines have wound all the way to the atrium of the garden, choking out several of the lower-lying plants already.