Smart creature.
Cassius's hand shifts from my throat to my hair, fingers tangling in the elaborate style that Koi's magic had crafted. The pins begin to fall as he deliberately destroys the arrangement, silver strands tumbling free around my shoulders, his possessiveness extending even to the way another man had chosen to present me.
Mine, the gesture declares.
Every part of you.
Mine to style, mine to claim, mine to punish as I see fit.
I shiver with anticipation.
Because yes—I'm horny for my Duskwalker.
Desperately, achingly, thoroughly aroused by his jealous display and the promises his darkened eyes contain.
And this is probably going to be one of our only chances to enjoy each other properly before the grand finale of our final trialing year.
CHAPTER 12
Possessive Darkness Part I
~CASSIUS~
Just the idea of this foreign man kissing what's mine makes my tainted blood burn.
I don't care what association he has with my Little Mouse. I don't like it. Not because I don't mind sharing my woman—that isn't the problem.
The problem is this being potentially being more superior than me. I feel the power nestled in his being, tucked away like some alter ego on the layer of insanity, and unlike my peers, I see right through it. I know how wicked this man can be without him showing his true colors, and it scares every ounce of being in me because the woman I love's heart is on the line.
That heart of hers that is big enough to love whoever is deserving, and maybe that's the true problem—that he's deserving of her after whatever captive solitude he's been within for us to land in this predicament.
But right now, I can't think about any of that, because I want to eat her up with how far she likes to push my buttons. I kiss her possessively, growling with how good it feels to kiss her. Her taste alone satisfies a need that I've been ignoring this whole while as we fought to survive, and I'd be lying if I said every battle doesn't turn me on even more when it comes to her, 'causeit shows how strong she fucking is. Anyone would have cowered in such situations. Been consumed by the wickedness, and somehow she just excels and grows—something I can appreciate immensely.
I break the kiss when I know her lungs are begging for oxygen, pulling back just enough to watch her chest heave, those crimson eyes—dilated with a mix of defiance and desire—locking onto mine like she's daring me to take more. Her lips are swollen from the force of my claim, glistening with the shared essence of our hunger, and it takes every ounce of my Duskwalker restraint not to dive back in and devour her completely. The bond mark on her neck pulses under my fingers, a living tattoo of shadow and starlight that responds to my touch, sending faint tendrils of void curling up her skin like possessive smoke signals.
"Little mouse," I warn, my voice carrying harmonics that vibrate through her bones, low and resonant, like the rumble of distant thunder echoing through the Infernal Realm's crimson skies.
My grip on her throat tightens fractionally, not enough to bruise but enough to remind her who's in control here—enough to feel her pulse flutter against my palm, a rapid drumbeat that mirrors the chaotic storm building in my chest.
"You just like to be punished, don't you."
It's not a question. I can see it in the way her body arches ever so slightly toward me, even in this compromised position, her confidence shining through like the unbreakable core of magic that's carried her through every trial Wicked Academy has thrown at us. She's no fragile thing; she's a queen in the making, softened only for those she's chosen, and right now, that softness is laced with the kind of bold challenge that makes my shadows writhe in anticipation.
Her smirk returns despite—or perhaps because of—the compromised position, those full lips curving in a way that'sequal parts playful and provocative, her silver hair tumbling loose around her shoulders like a cascade of starlit silk.
"Well, if it gets me draped across your lap and fucked silly, yes," she manages, her voice rough from the intensity of my kiss, husky and unapologetic, carrying that innate confidence that turns every word into a command wrapped in velvet. "But if you're actually mad, I'll be a good girl and sit in the corner."
She pauses, letting the silence stretch, her eyes gleaming with mischief as she holds my gaze without flinching, her body language screaming that she's mine but on her terms—softened for me, yes, but never truly tamed.
"Naked, if it adds to the thrill and gets me fucked senseless afterward."
My huff carries exasperation and hunger in equal measure, the sound escaping me like a puff of shadow-mist that curls around her throat, teasing the edges of my grip. Damn her for knowing exactly how to push me, how to turn my jealousy into fuel for this fire between us. But I can see it in those slowly-lightening eyes—the darkness receding as arousal replaces anger, void giving way to the silver I know so well. The hunger that replaces the fury is somehow more dangerous, more focused, more promising of consequences she very much wants to experience.
We share a look.
The kind of look that communicates volumes without requiring words, that speaks to the particular intimacy of bond mates who have learned each other's needs across trials that should have destroyed them. In her eyes, I see the reflection of every battle we've survived—the Infernal Realm's scorching flames licking at our heels, the shadow armies parting before her power, the way she's risen from ashes time and again, her magic blooming like defiant roses in a wasteland. She's softened for me in this moment, her confidence a gentle glow rather thana sharp blade, trusting me to lead this dance because she knows I'll always catch her when she falls.
"Are you okay?"
