His jaw flexes, but instead of doubling down, he lowers his head a little so his forehead almost touches mine, voice dropping into a quiet rumble. "Fee, I'm not casually dating you. I don't do casual."
I blink up at him. "But we haven't actually dated. We've never been on a proper date."
Something flickers across his face—surprise, maybe. For a heartbeat, there's silence.
"Then let me fix that," he murmurs. "Properly."
"You need to trust me, Anton," I whisper. "If you don't, this won't work."
His thumb slowly brushes my cheek. His eyes don't lose that storm-dark color, but his mouth softens just enough to make my stomach flip.
"I do trust you, Fee," he says at last, voice low and steady. "It's everyone else I don't trust. You're strong, intelligent, smart. There's so much good in you that it would attract the devil himself. And the devil doesn't come wearing horns; he comes dressed as an angel of light."
He shifts, guiding me with his firm grip around my waist. His steady pressure moves me until my back meets the wall just beside the dining table.
One arm braces against the wall above my head, caging me in, while his other hand cups my cheek, thumb brushing across my lips before sliding lower.
His fingers trace the line of my jaw, down the curve of my throat, and continue their slow path along my arm in a touch that's more possession than caress.
The plaster at my back is cool, but it's nothing against the heat rolling off him, nothing against the way he bends the air around us until I can't think of anyone but him.
His body doesn't trap me. It claims me.
"You want to know what scares me most?" His thumb traces my lower lip, and I can't help the tiny shiver that runs through me.
I wait, barely breathing.
"It's how much I need you." The confession rumbles out of him like he's fighting every word. "How completely you've taken over every thought in my head. How I'd burn the world down to keep you safe."
My heart pounds so hard I'm sure he can hear it.
"Six months I watched you, Fee." His forehead touches mine now, sharing breath, sharing space. "But every time you smiled, every time you laughed, every time you did something brilliant, which was constantly, you carved yourself deeper into me."
His hand slides from my cheek to my throat, fingers splaying against my pulse point. Not threatening, just claiming.
"You think I'm worried about Cillian? About your guards?" His voice drops to that dangerous whisper that makes my knees weak. "I'm worried about every man who sees what I see when I look at you."
"And what do you see?"
"Everything." The word comes out broken, honest. "Intelligence that could rule empires. Beauty that could start wars. Strength that could survive anything." His thumb strokes across my throat. "And innocence that makes me want to be a better man while simultaneously making me want to corrupt you completely."
Heat floods my cheeks, but I don't look away. "Maybe I want to be corrupted."
Something dark and hungry flashes in his eyes. His grip on my throat tightens just slightly, enough to make my pulse skip.
"Careful, Solnishko." His lips brush my ear, sending shivers down my spine. "I'm still learning how to be gentle with precious things."
Precious. The word shouldn't undo me, but it does. Part of me wants to believe he means it, that he's really here, with me, not halfway gone somewhere I can't reach. I tell myself not to fall any deeper, that I can't survive a man who still belongs more to his past than to me.
But then his mouth finds mine, hard, hungry, and every rational thought drowns beneath the taste of him. Maybe I'm bracing for the inevitable. Maybe I'm choosing the fall anyway.
He breaks the kiss just when I want more of him. His hand slides down my arm, thumb tracing my lip until my head spins. Then he turns, guiding me toward the table.
The roses are still there, white and perfect, but he doesn't spare them a glance. He takes the vase and sets it down out of sight. The sound of crystal against the floor is soft but absolute.
When his attention returns, it's all me. His grip tightens at my waist as he lifts me onto the table, placing me exactly where the roses once ruled.
His gaze pins me. His mouth hovers an inch from mine. "Katya had her place. But this is yours, Solnishko."
