I deepen the kiss, tasting the wine still lingering on her tongue, the faint sweetness of toothpaste. She responds with a desperate hunger that matches my own, her lips parting under mine, inviting me in. My tongue traces the soft, yielding curve of her mouth, then plunges inside, a slow, deliberate invasion.
She gasps, a soft, choked sound, and her fingers tighten on my shoulders, pulling me closer still. Her body is a testament to contradictory desires, the lingering tension of fear, the undeniable tremor of arousal. It’s intoxicating.
My hands slide from her waist, tracing the delicate curve of her spine, pulling her even tighter against me. I can feel the hard nubs of her nipples pressing against my chest through the thin cashmere, and a low growl rumbles in my throat. I want to strip that sweater from her, to feel her skin against mine, to mark her as mine, completely and irrevocably.
But I hold back.Barely.
This is not a conquest born of brute force. This is a seduction of the soul. And it requires a delicate, brutal patience. I need her to crave this. To crave me.
I pull back slowly, breaking the kiss, but keep my forehead pressed against hers, my eyes closed, savoring the taste of her on my lips and the feel of her trembling body against mine. Her breath comes in ragged gasps, her eyelids still fluttering shut.
“Open your eyes, Wynter,” I murmur, my voice a low, raw command.
Her eyes flutter open, wide and dark, clouded with confusion and a dawning awareness. The blue of her irises is almost black in the dim light, reflecting the chaos within her.
I pull back just enough to look into her eyes, my thumbs tracing the delicate curve of her cheekbones. “What… what was that?” she whispers, her voice hoarse, barely audible.
“That,cara, was a promise.”
Her eyes widen further, a fresh wave of fear mingling with the lingering desire. She tries to pull away, a small, desperate struggle, but my grip on her waist is firm, unyielding.
“No,” she whimpers, her voice stronger now, a flash of her inherent defiance returning. “No, you drugged me. You… you can’t do this.”
I release her, stepping back. The sudden absence of my body against hers leaves her swaying, disoriented. She clutches at the cashmere sweater, as if it’s the only thing holding her upright.
“I didn’t drug you to force you, Wynter,” I say, my voice calm, controlled. “I drugged you to give you rest. To allow your body to heal. You were exhausted, terrified, and malnourished. You wouldn’t have slept otherwise.”
It’s a half-truth. A calculated lie. I wanted her compliant. I wanted to remove her defenses, even for a few hours. But the rest of it is true. She was all those things.
“The wine was strong,” I continue, watching her face, searching for a crack in her resolve. “It lowered your inhibitions. But the desire, Wynter… that was all yours.”
Her eyes flash with anger, but beneath it, I see the shame. The knowledge that her body betrayed her, that she responded to me, even under duress. It’s a powerful weapon.
“You’re a monster,” she spits, her voice trembling.
I step closer again, invading her space, forcing her to look up at me. “Perhaps,” I concede, my voice a low rumble. “But I am your monster, Wynter. And I will protect you from all the others.”
I reach out, my hand gently cupping the back of her neck, my thumb stroking the soft skin behind her ear. The small, crescent-shaped scar. I feel a strange, fierce protectiveness surge through me.
“You said you saw me,” she whispers, her eyes locking onto mine, a desperate plea for understanding. “You said you saw all of me. The girl who ran, the woman who fought, the daughter who grieves.”
“I do,” I confirm, my gaze unwavering. “And I saw the girl who was starved, beaten, and locked away. The girl who was forced to wear a mask of obedience while her spirit slowly died.”
Her breath hitching, her eyes filling with tears. The wall she has built around herself, the one she presented to the world, is crumbling.
“Evilin will pay for every mark on your body, for every tear you’ve shed,” I vow, my voice a low, dangerous growl. “She will pay for every moment of fear she inflicted upon you.”
I watch her closely. The mention of Evilin and the promise of revenge are powerful lures. It’s a shared enemy. A common ground in this hostile landscape.
She doesn’t pull away this time. She just stares at me, her eyes wide, searching.
“You are safe here, Wynter,” I repeat, my voice softer, more persuasive. “You are free from her. From all of them. All you have to do is accept it.”
I release her, stepping back once more. I leave her standing there, alone in the moonlight, wrestling with the impossible choice. Freedom from one monster, into the arms of another.
“Sleep now, Snowflake,” I command, my voice firm. “You’re in my bed. And you’re not leaving it.”
I turn and walk to the other side of the massive bed, pulling back the covers. I slip in, my gaze fixed on her. She stands frozen, a deer caught in the headlights, her eyes wide with terror and something else, a dawning understanding.
