Noelle flinched but didn't look at me, just turned her face to the window. A wave of killing rage nearly swallowed my sanity whole. I almost wanted to pull my gun and blow that bastard away. But snapping his wrist was a better fit—I'd make him remember in agony what happens when you touch Kholod Morozov's property.
That restraint only pissed me off more. I hated this feeling, hated how she could make me lose control so easily.
"Kholod, you're driving too fast," Noelle said, her voice shaky.
"Shut up."
She went quiet. The car filled with the engine's roar and the tires screeching against the road. I told myself the fury was just because my possession had gotten tainted.
Yeah, that's it.
She was my wife, her body marked with my imprint, she belonged to me. That scum daring to touch her was a direct challenge to my authority. Getting this mad was only natural.
But deep down, a voice howled. It wasn't just possession—it was fear. Fear of losing her.
"No," I muttered.
"What?" Noelle turned to look at me.
"Nothing," I said, staring dead ahead at the road. "Don't talk."
The car barreled through the manor gates, speeding down the driveway, and I pulled straight into the garage. I slammed on the brakes, tires squealing on the concrete, the whole car shuddering to a halt.
Noelle's body jerked forward from the inertia, the seatbelt yanking her back with a pained yelp.
I killed the engine. Hit the button. The heavy garage door rumbled down, sealing us in with a low mechanical hum. Metal hit the ground with a booming thud, cutting off the outside world completely.
The garage lights blazed bright, bouncing off the polished concrete in harsh white glares. The place was dead silent except for our ragged breaths.
I turned to her. Those brown eyes, bright and fierce under the lights, burned like wildfire, ready to consume everything.
"You must be pretty pleased with yourself, huh?"
My voice scraped out from deep in my throat, hoarse and unfamiliar.
Noelle froze, confusion flickering in her eyes. "What?"
"I said," I leaned over, bracing against the seat to trap her in that tiny space, "are you pleased with yourself?"
"Kholod, I don't know what you're talking about."
"Putting on that vulnerable act in front of my people, getting everyone to pity you, all those wives whispering, the men eyeing you with sympathy—"
"I didn't!"
"Making me lose it like a damn fool!" My roar echoed in the car.
Noelle's face went even paler, pressing back against the door, fear finally breaking through in her eyes.
"I didn't do anything," she said, voice trembling. "It was that man, he—"
"So you just stood there waiting to get groped?" I sneered. "Noelle, you could've screamed, fought harder, you could've—"
"I'm wearing the dress you picked!" She broke, tears streaming down. "This damn mermaid dress! I couldn't even lift my legs! Kholod Morozov, tell me how the hell I was supposed to fight?!"
Her words hit like a bucket of ice water. I stared at her red-rimmed eyes, the tears streaking her cheeks. Damn.
"And," she choked out, "you left me alone there! You invited Isabella to the opening dance right in front of everyone! You made me the joke of the whole ballroom!"
