Her breath catches.
I see it in her eyes—the war, the denial, the hunger.
And I know.
She’s mine.
The lift shudders. Lights flicker to a steadier hue—still dim, but no longer the devil’s blush. A moment later, the mechanical groan of gears sets in, and we lurch downward again.
Aria doesn’t speak.
She doesn’t even breathe loud enough for me to track anymore. Every molecule of her is clenched tight, wrapped around the agony of her self-denial. She’s practically vibrating with it.
The doors slide open.
And she bolts. Heels clicking rapid-fire, hair bouncing loose from its tight coil. She doesn’t look back. Doesn’t need to. I can feel the heat of her retreat like a meteor slicing through cold orbit.
I don’t follow. I want this to simmer.
I want her to sit in that fire.
I step out leisurely, adjusting my cuffs, ignoring the stares of two security guards at the end of the hall. My expression is pure calm. But inside? Inside I’m all teeth.
She cracked. Just a hairline. But I saw it.
Felt it.
Heard the trembling thread in her breath when I said the words she couldn’t refute. Shelikesit. The way I loom. The way I smell. The way I speak to her like she’s not made of glass but of coiled lightning just waiting to detonate.
And maybe I don’t just want her in my bed.
Maybe I want her at my side.
I stride through the Ministry halls like I own them. Because one day, I just might. Not through violence. Not through power grabs or vendettas.
Throughher.
She doesn’t know it yet. But I’m seducing more than her body. I’m seducing her sense of justice. Her precious law. Her ironclad moral compass. I’ll twist it until she doesn’t know which way it points—until it only spins in my orbit.
She’ll hate me for it.
Then she’ll beg for more.
The scent of her lingers on my jacket. Something floral and maddening beneath the faintest edge of sweat. She tries so hard to hide her humanity behind protocol and precedent. But I see it. I see her.
And it’s beautiful.
Not the polished mask. The chaos underneath.
That’s what I want. That’s what I’ll take.
Slowly. Carefully. One rule at a time.
Until there’s nothing left butmine.
CHAPTER 7
ARIA DAWSON
