Page 86 of The Order of the Bitter Hunt

He thinks he’s one-upping me, and I can’t allow that.

I grab the back of his neck and pull him in. I want Charlotte to see—I wanteveryoneto. I don’t realize how bad I need it until our lips touch.

The urge to let the world know he’s mine is possessive—hell, it’s feral. The unknown beast of envy roars to life inside me, and I must feed it. He seems intent on feeding it as well.

Jun grips my waist hard, and when I pull him in, there’s no resistance. Our mouths touch, lips meeting firmly, and our eyes close. His touch moves to the small of my back, pulling me against him.

Warmth envelops me… and then it’s more than warm; it’s hot, a fire I long to dance in. It melts me to my core. My thighs squeeze together as he presses me harshly against the nearest wall.

It’s a performance, and ours is a thousand times better than whatever he did with Charlotte. When my lips part, a soft request, he answers by pushing his tongue into my mouth. I know where I am, and I know the others may be watching, but I don’t care.

He’s tasting me the way I already have with him, and he still tastes like cinnamon and fire. Euphoria rushes to his head, and tension coils in the pit of his stomach. No, the tension doesn’t come from me, not solely—it’s his. What does it mean that I can still feel what he’s feeling, even though I haven’t fed from him in days?

When we part, I let out a soft sigh.

“Is that how you want me to kiss her next time, princess?” He pulls back to fix me with a serious look.

I glare. “Don’t you dare.”

“That’s what I thought.”

His heat dies down, and I come back to my senses. Everyone is watching, curious and judgmental in equal measure. I could nearly blush.

“What’s wrong?” His words are a taunt, and there is a challenge behind his smile. “Don’t be all bashful now. You started this.”

My eyes narrow. Frustration and desire dance together. At least the frustration is something I understand. The desire is novel and impossible to tame.

I clutch his wrist, dragging him away without another word. His laughter follows us as we go, and the dragging gaze of our peers does, too.

“Where are you taking me?” he asks.

“Somewhere we can talk in private.”

But we have no intention of talking, do we?

We duck into the first classroom we find, and without locking the door, our mouths clash. No words can come through as we taste and touch. He slams me against yet another wall, and his thigh slides between my legs, pushing against my heat.

“Is this how we talk now?” I mumble into his mouth, my hands moving to the waistband of his pants. My fingers slide into his belt loops, and I pull him in tighter.

He lets out a longing sigh and pulls back, his eyes flashing red as they meet mine. “We should have talked this way all along.”

Pleasure thrums through me. Desire has awakened in us both, and I can feel it in the invisible cord connecting us.

I don’t voice it, but silently, I agree. If we had spent more time like this, perhaps we wouldn’t have spent so long dancing on each other’s nerves.

Would the tension between us still be so thick? Would I be able to hear his ragged breath and see the rise of his chest? Or would the connection we have passed us by? Perhaps the cliché of everything happening for a reason is true.

I lean in again, pressing my lips to the soft skin of his neck, and his pulse thumps under my touch.

Calloused fingers slip under my dress, grasping my backside, and I push down his pants. When my fingers graze against his forming bulge, he groans. My fangs throb, a second desire awakening, but I stay gentle as I suck and lick his neck.

Beneath my touch, his pulse jumps, waiting for more. I don’t give it.

He lifts me, surprisingly strong, and sets me on the nearest desk.

When I pull away to look him in the eye, his irises are crimson, his lids heavy. He is the picture of lust. I need to devour him in any way he’ll allow.

“Take what you need,” he says.