Excerpt of Verge of Corruption by P.C. Stevens

What am I doing? This isn’t me. Tris saw his hands wrapped tightly around Zestine’s shoulders, though initially he’d gone for her throat; he felt the effort of squeezing, but his brain short-circuited, unable to provide a reason for what his eyes perceived. Arms shaking and gaze locked on hers, he released a pent-up breath. This woman… wait no, she wasn’t just a woman. This insanely robust predator was beyond capable of butchering him in a most gruesome manner, yet even as he held her life in his hands, she did nothing but watch him.

Tris couldn’t look away from those indigo eyes. Then, as if a barrier crumbled between them, he had the fierce urge to drape her body with his and skim his mouth over her jaw to her lips… He’d lick the top one, then the bottom before coaxing them open with his tongue…

Gasping, he bit his own bottom lip to stop a groan. The aroma he hadn’t smelled since the night he’d turned her away struck him with the power of a thousand men prying his hands free. Abruptly, he withdrew his punishing grip and stood, then tried to back away. Instead he landed on his ass as Zestine coughed and fought for breath.

Still she wanted him, despite everything? Now that he thought about it, it had seemed like she expected he’d attack. But why? How?

Then, it hit him: she’d worked a strategy. She’d wanted to get a rise out of him, had known he’d react in such a way, but not because she wanted to fuck. Desire was a mere side effect of her effort to bring his inner zeal to the surface.

Zestine got to her feet. The scent of her arousal made him lightheaded, so he stood and staggered backward. Once satisfied with the distance between them, he said, “We must settle this now.”

She stroked the areas his hands had been, where angry red marks tainted otherwise flawless skin. Shit. Tris eyed the ground and clenched his hands. Upon looking up, the marks had faded to light pink. He relaxed his hands.

“Okay,” she said, voice rough. Her intimidating fangs had receded, which went a long way in Tris allowing himself to drop his guard. Zestine cleared her throat, or tried “It’s simple. I need to know you’re game for this and willing to give as much of yourself as I am. I need to know you’ll be honest with me.”

Tris peered at their lit destination, his stomach souring at the reminder of the men he was to find there, what they’d done, and what they wished to do.

“You’re letting your feelings and beliefs rule.” Zestine sighed. “But you’re too young for your conclusions to mean much.”

Tris looked back at her, humbled by his inability to argue with her rationale. Many Pirmas measured wisdom by age, something he’d always considered worthwhile. When one used that logic on him, however, it was harder to accept, which only further accentuated his youth and Zestine’s shrewdness.

Would it be so hard to ditch the negativity and uncertainty flourishing inside him?

Maybe, but he’d try. Though he still carried resentment for her unexpected arrival into his life, she was his ally. Like it or not, they needed to work as a team, hence he owed her his respect and honesty. He pressed his lips together. “Okay. I promise to give my all.”

“Good.” She threw her hair in front of her shoulders and ran her fingers through it, combing out dirt and pebbles. After retrieving a thick black band from around her wrist, she piled her mane atop her head and secured it with the band. The result was messy, but cute. As she sauntered closer, Tris noticed the marks on her skin had thankfully disappeared.

Zestine offered her hand. “Friends?”

Although skeptical their relationship would ever fit the true meaning of friendship, they were in this together, had only each other, so he took her much smaller hand into his and shook it. “Sure. Friends.”