Chapter 12 · The Blood Pact

“Stop fighting it, Ivy. You know you want this as much as I do.”

Cain’s voice was a low vibration against my ear. He had me pinned. My wrists were locked in a grip like iron bands, and the cold stone floor bit into my shoulder blades. But all I could feel was him—suffocating, predatory heat radiating off his skin.

“I want you to get the hell off me,” I spat. I twisted my hips, trying to buck him, but he didn't budge. He just shifted his weight, crushing me deeper into the floor, his chest heaving against mine.

He chuckled. It was a dark, jagged sound. “Liar. Your blood is screaming. It recognizes me. It’s practically begging for the bond.”

“It’s not begging. It’s terrified.” I glared up at him, breath coming in ragged gasps. “There’s a difference, you arrogant prick.”

“Is there?”

Cain’s eyes darkened, the gold in his irises swirling like a storm. He leaned in until our noses brushed. He smelled like sandalwood, rain, and ozone—the scent of a lightning strike right before it hits. “Then why is your heart hammering like a trapped bird?