The night was still, but Ariana's heart wasn't.
She stood in the middle of Damian's private chamber — too large, too cold, too his. Her dress was torn at the hem. Her wrists bruised from the guards who'd tried to drag her away before he stopped them.
And now he was pacing like a beast — silent, angry, shirt half-undone, rage simmering just under his skin.
"What was that?" Ariana snapped, breaking the silence.
"Protection," he said, turning to face her.
"No. That was a claim," she hissed. "In front of everyone. You didn't just defend me. You marked me. Like property."
His jaw tightened. "Because if I hadn't, they would've taken you. Questioned you. Broken you."
"Then let them try," she whispered fiercely. "I'm not afraid of truth. But I'm starting to fear you."
He stopped dead in his tracks.
"You're afraid of me?"
She looked him in the eyes, unblinking. "Shouldn't I be?"
Damian stepped closer — not fast, not harsh, but the way the air shifted around him made her breath hitch.
"You don't understand what I feel," he said. "When I saw you surrounded. Accused. Touched by them…"
His voice lowered, rough like a storm. "I wanted to tear the world apart."
"That's not love," she said.
"I never said it was."
He reached out, brushing her cheek with a gentleness that didn't match his words. She should've pulled away. But her body betrayed her again.
"You scare me," she whispered.
"Good," he said. "Then maybe you'll stop tempting the wolf."
Their eyes locked. Her lips parted. His breath mingled with hers.
And then he kissed her.
But this time… it was slow. Deep. Almost tender. As if he wasn't trying to break her — but beg her to stay.
She melted into him before she could think, hands fisting his shirt, his arms locking around her like chains.
"Tell me to stop," he growled against her mouth.
She didn't.
She couldn't.
And when he lifted her, carried her to his bed, and laid her down like something sacred — Ariana didn't know what scared her more:
His touch…
Or how much she wanted it.