I just smiled without a word. That's the point—I wanted to crush that arrogant Kholod Morozov.
After seeing Zoe off, I headed back to the living room.
"Today... Did I do good enough?" Kholod's voice rasped, with a hint of hidden hope.
I walked up to him, reached out to untie his apron, moving slowly. My fingers brushed his neck skin by accident, feeling his muscles tense instantly.
"Barely passable." I met his tired amber eyes. "But it's nowhere near enough, Kholod. Your past work was too masterful; it'll take a lot more to fix it."
A spark flickered in his eyes, hardening into resolve.
For days, Kholod stuck to my demands, burying that restlessnessunder a calm facade. But I sensed the undercurrents churning beneath.
Until that rainy night.
He'd just finished reading me a passage about the Icelandic Aurora, his voice hoarse from the long session. I stared at the rain-streaked window and murmured, "Read like it has no soul. You don't get freedom, Kholod. You only know how to cage things."
The book slammed shut, shattering the quiet.
I turned calmly, watching him rise slowly. His massive frame cast an oppressive shadow in the light. All that earlier restraint vanished from his eyes, replaced by a cornered sharpness.
"I don't get it?" He advanced step by step, voice low and dangerous. "Yeah, I don't get the freedom you crave. But I'm starting to get other things..."
He stopped right in front of me, close enough to feel the heat radiating off him.
"You enjoy this, don't you?" His hand hovered, tracing the air along my cheek, sending a shiver through me. "Enjoy watching me grovel, enjoy stomping on my dignity, enjoy carving up my pride with words like a dull knife..."
His piercing gaze locked on mine, like it could strip away every mask.
"Tell me, Noelle," he leaned in close to my ear. "Treating me like this, are you really as cool as you seem? Or is this just your twisted kind of thrill?"
I backed up instinctively, but he anticipated, grabbing my wrist. Firm enough to hold me, not to hurt.
"Game's over. Or should we switch to something we're more 'familiar' with?"
I turned my face away from his stare.
"Look at me."
"I won't."
He gripped my chin, forcing my head up. Our eyes met, and fire blazed in his.
"Noelle," his voice husked, "you remember this?"
His fingers slid to my collarbone, then lower, pressing lightly over my clothes right on that tattoo spot.
"H.M."
His initials. Etched into me, impossible to erase.
"This brand isn't for me—it's for you." His breath ghosted my ear. "We're bound, Noelle. You can't run."
"Let go..."
"No." His voice stayed low, unyielding. "From the moment you saved me, from the second I marked you, you're mine."
Before the words faded, his lips crashed onto mine. I tried to shove him off, but he pinned my wrists to the wall. In that deep kiss, my struggles weakened.
