Every word vibrated with the force of his vow.
“Whatever they told you, whatever you feared—forbid it. Do you hear me, Amerei? Forbid it. Our love will never be pain. Not for you. Not for us.”
He pressed her hand hard over his heart, his breath ragged against her lips.
“Here, you command me. Here, your ‘no’ is law, your joy my only vow. If the world demands sacrifice, let it take me. But you—” his mouth brushed hers, reverent and ruined— “you will never weep from my love.”
Her cheek pressed to the hard beat of his heart, the rise and fall of his breath rough against her hair.
“Pain will never be the price of love,” he whispered, fierce even in softness. His mouth brushed her temple. “Say it’s forbidden, Amerei. Say it, and I’ll carve it into my bones.”
Her lashes fluttered against his skin, her voice trembling but steady.
“I forbid it.”
He exhaled, slow, and pressed his lips to her brow.
“Good. Then I’ll remember. Every time I touch you. Every time I make you mine.”
His hand framed her jaw, tilting her face up.
“I love you, Amerei.”
“I love you.”
Her chest shuddered against his, tears of relief tangling in her throat. He kissed her, gentle and unyielding all at once—so fierce in his devotion she thought she might weep again.
But when he drew back, his gaze caught on hers. Something lingered there—something unsaid, quivering behind her tears. His thumb brushed her lower lip, coaxing.
“What is it?” he asked, voice rough with both fear and need.
She hesitated, then said, “Last night… I pulled your hair quite hard. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
A dangerous smile cut across his mouth.
“You didn’t hurt me, Amerei. But…”
His hand slid into her hair, careful and slow, until every golden strand was gathered into his fist. With a single, fluid motion, he coiled it at the nape of her neck, holding her crown in his hand. His chest rose sharp with anticipation as his gaze locked on hers.
“This,” he said, tugging ever so slightly, “is how you pull without pain.”
Her eyes sparked—heat, challenge, a dare answered before it was spoken. He gave a sharper tug, just enough to test her, and her breath broke into a gasp.
“Viktor,” she whispered, equal parts warning and want.
He leaned in, lips grazing her ear. “Your turn.”
She slipped her fingers through his raven-dark hair, gathering it the way he had hers. Her tug was clumsy at first, but bold, and he groaned low in his throat, his mouth catching hers in a bruising kiss.
“That’s it,” he rasped against her lips. “Again.”
She obeyed, braver this time, and he laughed against her mouth. His teeth grazed her lower lip—testing. She bit back, tentative, then harder.
His growl vibrated against her skin.
“Careful, Princess… you bite me like that, and I’ll make you prove it.”
Her laugh was breathless, daring. “Where?”
