Fear pulsed through my veins. But so did desire.
My skin buzzed, my breath caught in my throat. I closed my eyes, as if shutting them might quiet the chaos inside me.
It didn’t.
When I opened them again, his face was haloed in moonlight and candle glow, framed by velvet shadows and flickering gold.
And in that moment, all fear vanished.
I surrendered.
He was no longer the composed, calculating nobleman I’d once fallen for.
He was wild now.
Feral.
His face was a brutal landscape—contorted in hunger and rage, as if something monstrous had torn free from beneath his skin.
No mask. No polish.
Just the unfiltered truth of who Balthazar was.
A creature forged in darkness.
His eyes blazed with white-hot intensity, searing into my soul like molten iron. I felt scorched—unmade—burned alive beneath his gaze.
Power radiated off him in thick and heavy waves, making the air tremble. I could feel it in my bones. In my blood.
I watched in breathless silence as Balthazar began to transform.
His once brilliant-blue eyes now shimmered with an unnatural darkness, catching the light like black diamonds. His loose and wild hair tumbled around his shoulders in thick waves, the color of midnight storms. Every inch of him seemed to expand, his muscles rippling beneath his clothes with monstrous power. He looked otherworldly, vast, and eternal.
And yet, I wasn’t afraid.
I welcomed the beast within him—welcomed the surrender of all reason. I let myself be carried away on the wings of his darkness.
He reached for me, his fingers electric against my skin, sending shivers through every nerve. He studied me—no smile, no seduction—just elemental truth.
“Tonight,” he said at last, “I will show you a glimpse of who I am.”
“Oh yes, Balthazar,” I whispered, aching. “Show me.”
My core pulsed with heat, flooding with desire. I burned forevery part of him, especially this monstrous, untamed version that stripped away pretense and left only power.
With my wrists still trapped in his grasp, his free hand moved with maddening slowness, exploring and commanding, hecradled my face, thumb grazing my cheek like I was something breakable. Something claimed.
Even in this fearsome form, he was beautiful.
He leaned into me, grinding his hips, the pressure of his erection unbearable even through the layers of fabric between us.
“What do you have in store for me?” he questioned. “What schemes lie behind those wicked eyes, my sinful angel?”
“Nothing you don’t already crave, my lord,” I purred.
But at my words, his expression darkened. Pain flickered across his face.
“Don’t call me that,” he growled. “Only mysubjectsuse that name.”
