Moth finally opened her eyes and pulled away. She looked down into his face and he stared back, a dark challenge hidden in the depths of his eyes. His lips quirked in a half-smile, and the movement sent a drop of blood running down his chin.

Before she could control the impulse, Moth darted forward and caught the shining crimson bead on the tip of her tongue. It tasted harsh and tangy, and she shuddered with a mixture of desire and disgust as she swallowed it. She licked her lips and tried to push down the wave of guilt that washed over her. Crazy to feel that way, just for nicking him with her teeth. It had been an accident—heat of the moment.

“If you’d let go of my hands, I could wipe the rest of the blood away.” Jace’s tone was neutral, all signs of pain and panic appeared to have gone. He’d regained his control, just as she had lost hers.

Moth gazed at the new blood welling from the cut on his bottom lip. She released his arms and pushed away from him, rolling to one side and dragging herself across the room and against the wall nearest the door. Her newly acquired leather jacket was hanging from a hook against the dark wood. She grabbed it and tugged it down, ripping the bronze coat hook from its moorings. Wrapping the material around her hands, she gripped the thick silver chains encasing her legs and pulled.

The metal was heavy and tough—even without the so-called “blessing” (which Moth was beginning to suspect was actually some kind of magical warding)—but she was fast regaining her strength.

The chains snapped, the miniature padlocks shattering into pieces and scattering around her on the carpet.

Jace lay exactly where she’d left him. His injured leg was bent at a strange angle and Moth began to wonder if she should leave him there like that. She shook her head. What the hell was she thinking? She was going soft, forgetting what he’d done to her in the first place. One kiss and she’d completely lost her head.