Page 91 of Hellbound

Caromir glinted off Bohdan’s sword, cutting an arc toward her. He was stronger. But all she needed to be was faster.

There it is.

Contrasted with her reckless speed, his stance was loose, relaxed, effortless. An overcommitment of rage and power behind every hit.

There was a devastating lack of distance between them, and she stayed in close quarters to cut off his range.

He parried her skillfully, darting around her attacks with dark amusement.

Their wet bodies brushed against one another, and something else snapped through her from feeling his damp, hot skin between the layers of their soaked clothing.

Lightning and thunder crashed overhead, illuminating their battle for a split second.

The sound of their blades meeting was drowned out by the pelting rain, locking them into a world entirely their own.

Caromir ground out discordant, metallic notes that grotesquely harmonized with Bohdan’s soulbound sword, making her pulse race.

Their dance was fast, frenzied. Both predicted the other’s movements like a perfectly coordinated dance.

She sliced through the rain at his chest, then tossed Caromir in midair and switched to her non-dominant hand.

Bohdan barely avoided the blade from burying into his side, turning away at the last moment to grasp her wrist and wrench it painfully behind her back.

It hurt so sweetly.

It didn’t matter whether she was suffering or causing it. Her bloodlust sang with pleasure.

The heat licked up her body, consuming her from head to toe.

He slammed her against the stone wall of the courtyard. Her breasts and stomach pressed hard against the surface as he forced her legs to splay wide, his hand palming down her body, searching.

“Oh, so this is what you wanted? You’re so obedient I’d mistaken you for a eunuch—”

She bit back a moan as his gloved hand fisted in her sopping wet hair and wrenched her face back to meet his deadly green eyes.

She felt a hardness against her when she pushed her hips back against his.

So the perfect captain was human after all.

His free hand captured her hip, stopping her from going further, but he had already given up precious ground in this war against her.

“You are such a pest.” His teeth grated against her neck, forcing her head to the side as if contemplating ripping out her throat.

“What will you do about it?” She laughed.

His vise grip forced her into a back-breaking arch.

It was too good. Too much.

“Let me guess—nothing.” She would break into pieces if he kept restraining her, the heat pooling lower in her body.

He flipped her to face him—a low, dangerous, burning flicker in his eyes.

Oh.

Curls framed his forehead and water dripped down his face as he braced a hand against the wall over her.

His eyes trailed down her body, that flicker turning cold and igniting within them.