“Or what?” she whispered, her pulse fluttering beneath his grip.
He leaned closer, his breath rough against her skin. “I will not share that look with another man,” he said, voice low with warning. “Nor that smile. Not even your breath.”
His grip tightened.
“The next time you give it, it will be to me.”
Her voice was taunting, infuriating. “Fuck, Jakobav, you sound jealous.”
“I am,” he admitted, his mouth so close to hers he could taste the shape of the word. “And you don’t want to know how far that goes.”
The way she looked at him, ocean-blue eyes catching in the moonlight. Gods.
They widened just slightly, and she breathed, “Maybe I do.” The words left her softer, more ache than defiance.
“Then maybe I should ruin you for every other man who thinks he deserves your gaze,” he said, voice low and threatening.
She faltered, her gaze shifting down before locking on him again, her mouth opening then closing.
That hesitation lit something wild in him.
Gods, she wanted to. She wanted him to break past her armor, to push until she bent. He could feel it in her body, in her eyes, in the stubborn silence that was no silence at all. She’d lived her life carrying strength like a blade, forced to be defiant, forced to prove, never allowed to yield.
But here she was begging without words for that weight to be stripped from her shoulders. To fall without fear.
He would be the man to teach her how to give in, to surrender without shame.
He would destroy her and remake her. Piece by piece.
Until she was his in every way.
Right now, he only needed to close the distance, to take whatever she gave, to drown himself in it. Because he would take it like the jealous, greedy bastard she’d turned him into.
Fuck, he wanted her.
His stubborn, relentless, merciless Ella.
He stepped in until space ceased to exist between them, his thigh driving between hers, his hand closing around her jaw in a grip that offered no escape. Her breath caught, but she didn’t push him away.
He had meant to demand answers, to drag the truth out of her about what that look at the portrait had meant, but the sight of her lips parted and eyes daring him to show her his dark intentions had every question in his mind burning to ash.
In fact, the whole fucking world could burn. Nothing else mattered except this.
He didn’t think. He didn’t weigh the consequences.
Jakobav closed the distance, his mouth taking hers in a deep kiss that was pure hunger, the kind of claim that left no room for doubt.
She met him head-on, kissing him back harder, hungrier, her fingers fisting in his hair and pulling him closer with a wildness that was lust incarnate. The taste of her hit him like Fae wine poured straight into his veins, subtly sweet and dangerously addictive.
Fucking delicious.
He broke the kiss only long enough to lean down and drag his hands up the backs of her thighs, lifting her and pulling her against him so fiercely that she let out a half-gasp half-moan, before he claimed her mouth again in an all-consuming kiss.
With her legs wrapped around his waist and arms around his neck, he tightened his grip on her hips, thrusting his hips forward just enough to make her feel exactly what she’d done to him.
The garden swayed around them, thorns and roses leaning close as if eager to witness their ruin.
When she gasped, he swallowed the sound and drove the kiss harder, coaxing giving way to the conquest that burned between them. He kissed her with the full intent to ruin every other taste she’d ever known, to make her remember only him.
