My heart won’t stop pounding. My skin is buzzing, my throat raw from screaming his name. God. I can’t believe I just let him do that. Shame burns in me, but so does something worse—something hotter. Hunger. My body is already betraying me, aching for another round.
He stretches out beside me, his heat soaking into my skin even though we’re not touching. The bed feels too small, the air too thick. I freeze, unsure if I’m ready for such intimacy.
His finger slides along my jaw, slow, deliberate, tilting my face until I have no choice but to look at him. His eyes are dark, heavy-lidded, gleaming with satisfaction. “Scared?” he asks, voice low, taunting.
My lips part, but no sound comes out. Because the truth is—I don’t know. Am I scared? Yes. But I’m also starving.
His mouth curves into that wolfish grin that makes my stomach drop. “Good,” he murmurs, shifting closer until his thigh presses against mine under the sheet. “Because I’m not nearly done with you.”
A knock rattles the door before I can respond, and my heart jerks in my chest.
Niko curses under his breath, yanking the sheet higher to cover me just as the door swings open. Demyan strides in without waiting for permission, his expression grim.
“There’s been an attack,” he says, eyes flicking once to me, then hardening back on Niko. “On one of our cars. No deaths, but some of the men are badly injured.”
Niko’s jaw tightens. “That’s routine. Why are you wasting my time with this now?”
Demyan doesn’t flinch. Instead, he pulls a folded slip of paper from his coat and holds it out. “Because it wasn’t just an attack. It was a message. For her.”
The room tilts under me. My stomach twists. Niko takes the note, his fingers crushing the paper before he even unfolds it. His face goes stony, his eyes scanning the words.
“What does it say?” My voice comes out small, barely audible.
Niko’s gaze lifts, black fire burning in his eyes. He doesn’t answer at first. His silence is worse than anything. Finally, he hisses the words like poison.
“The bride bleeds next.”
The air leaves my lungs in a single, sharp rush. I’m frozen, staring at him, at the paper clenched in his fist. Bride. That means me. Someone out there wants me dead.
I drag the sheet tighter around my body, but it does nothing to stop the chill crawling over my skin. My pulse pounds so hard it hurts, and I can’t tell if it’s fear or shock or both.
My throat goes dry. “Niko….” My voice cracks, trembling. “They’re coming for me?”
His hand fists the sheet where it covers me, anchoring me to the bed. His stare is brutal, merciless. “Let them try.”
Chapter 8 – Niko
She’s asleep. Finally.
The sheet barely clings to her skin, and still I can see every mark I left. Bruises rising like shadows along her throat, my handprint stamped into her hip, bite marks blooming across her breasts. She’s wrecked. My doing.
And yet—she doesn’t look ruined.
She looks whole.
Her chest rises and falls in a slow rhythm, lips parted, lashes resting on soft cheekbones. She’s not trembling anymore. She’s not fighting. She’s at peace. Because of me.
My hand curls into a fist at my side, fighting the urge to touch her again. To push her awake, drag her back under me, see just how much further she can break before she shatters. But there’s no breaking her, is there? Noelle isn’t fragile porcelain. She’s steel wrapped in silk. Every time I push, she bends, she yields, but she never breaks. And it drives me mad.
I trace her face with my eyes, memorizing every detail—her messy hair sticking to her cheek, the faint sheen of sweat still clinging to her skin, the faint red scrape on her collarbone where my teeth caught too hard. My mark. All of it mine.
Something ugly and dangerous twists in my chest. She shouldn’t make me feel like this. She shouldn’t make me believe in anything more than control. With a low, angry growl, I pull back from the bed, forcing space between us before I lose myself in her again.
My gaze catches on the crumpled paper on the floor. The note. The insult. The threat.
The bride bleeds next.
The words sear into me, sharper than a blade. My jaw clenches, rage burning through my veins. Whoever sent thisthinks they’re clever—thinks they can get to me through her. Maybe it’s an enemy with old debts to settle. Maybe it’s someone inside my own ranks, a traitor with a death wish.
