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Blackridge studies me for a moment, then waves his hand. The barrier dissolves, and CJ rushes forward, pulling me against his chest. His hands roam over me, checking for injuries, his touch grounding me in reality.

“Are you hurt?” he demands, his voice rough with concern.

“No,” I whisper. “I’m fine.”

He grunts, but I don’t try to appease his concern. I’m too busy staring at Blackridge, and he at me. Something has changed between us. It’s not sexual, thank fuck, but it’s profound. He knows it. I know it, and I know CJ knows it too.

He shoves me behind him. “If you even look at her again, I will rip your eyes out and shove them down your throat,” he hisses.

“Like father, like son. You are both very vivid with your threats.”

“It’s not a threat,” he snarls.

“No, I doubt very much that it is. I truly would like to see you off your leash, Mr Aquila. I feel it would be most inspiring.”

“Be careful what you wish for.”

But we both know it’s too late for that. Blackridge is going to ensure CJ shifts to his dragon form one way or another, and I have the awful feeling it’s going to be under violent and bloody circumstances.

“Miss Morvoren resisted longer than I anticipated. I’m impressed.”

Blackridge’s blood still burns in my veins, carrying whispers of knowledge I can’t yet decipher.

“You tortured her.”

“I did no such thing. She tortured herself by waiting so long. But tell me, Miss Morvoren. How do you feel now?”

The honest answer is that I feel spectacular.

The hunger that’s been clawing at me for days has receded to a manageable whisper.

The silver light beneath my skin has stabilised, no longer flickering erratically but flowing in steady, controlled patterns.

Most importantly, the blood whispers have gone silent.

But I’m not about to give Blackridge the satisfaction of knowing how much his blood helped me.

“I feel fine.”

CJ snorts.

Blackridge purses his lips. “Very well, Miss Morvoren. Deny it if you will, but we both know the truth, and soon everyone else will.” He vanishes, leaving me and CJ in the chamber.

“How long was I down here?” I ask.

“About three hours.”

“I’m sorry. I should’ve listened to you.”

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “We should’ve listened to you. Trusted you. Whatever happened down here… I can see the effects it has had on you.”

“Oh?”

He nods slowly. “You are magnificent, Isolde.”

His words wrap around me like a caress, but beneath the praise, I can hear the worry. Whatever Blackridge’s blood has done to me, it’s visible to those who know me best.

“Where are William and Cassiel?” I ask, needing to change the subject before CJ starts asking questions, I’m not ready to answer.

“Trying to break through the wards upstairs. They’ve been going crazy since we got separated.” He cups my face, his thumb brushing across my bottom lip where traces of Blackridge’s blood still linger. “Are you sure you’re okay? He didn’t touch you?”

“He didn’t touch me.” But Blackridge’s blood didn’t just ease the hunger. It showed me things. Fragments of memories, glimpses of power, whispers of knowledge that feel like they’ve been carved into my bones.

He nods, accepting that. But then his gaze turns hungry. He shoves me up against the wall, his claws extending to rip through the skin of my arms as he kisses me savagely, his fangs slicing through my lips and tongue.

The coppery taste of my blood hits my tongue, and CJ’s eyes blaze with need as he shoves me back against the wall, rougher this time.

His hand grips my throat as he bends down to lick the blood from my arms, with a low groan that makes my toes curl.

His tongue is hot and hungry against my skin, lapping up every drop of blood as if it’s the most precious thing he’s ever tasted.

He lets out a soft grunt of pleasure, his free hand gripping my hip tightly.

The way he is manhandling me has everything inside me responding on an intrinsic level.

His dragon is close to the surface, but he stays in control, just barely.

He trails his tongue all the way up my arm before he sinks his fangs deeply into my neck, tugging on my vein roughly as he draws out more of my blood while at the same time pressing his cock into me.

I get him free, tugging on him gently as he groans against my throat.

My pussy is soaking, and I struggle with my jeans, pushing them down.

He doesn’t wait for them to be around my ankles.

He pushes his cock into me with my legs restrained by the denim.

The low growl that escapes him is addictive.

He thrusts into me, hard and urgent, a claiming, a reassurance that I’m his, that I’m safe, that I’m still here with him.

I wrap my arms around his neck, holding him close as he fucks me against the wall, his body pressing mine into the cold stone.

His cock fills me completely, stretching me, owning me.

His mouth moves from my neck to my lips, kissing me fiercely, his fangs cutting my lips again, drawing more blood that he licks away with a hungry growl.

He pulls back slightly, his eyes meeting mine. “You’re mine,” he whispers. The words are lightning through my soul, connecting and yet contradicting everything else within these walls.

His pace increases with each thrust of his hips, each movement driving him deeper into me until it feels like he’s consuming my very existence.

I moan loudly as the pleasure rises and then explodes outward in a blissful rush of ecstasy that leaves me breathless and panting, my pussy clutching his cock possessively.

The room quakes slightly, responding to the sheer primal force of our connection, and again when he spills inside me with a deep groan. “We need to get out of here.”

I nod and feel the loss when he pulls his cock out of me and helps me with my jeans before he sorts himself out. “William and Cass will be livid.”

He grunts and wraps his arms around me, teleporting us out of the chamber and back into the courtyard, where the scene in front of me was not one I was expecting.