I do not deny it.
Because she is right.
I am already cataloging the details.
The dress will be black. Sleek. Form-fitting. Something that highlights the compact strength of her frame, the curve of her hips, the elegant line of her throat.
Jewelry. Simple. Understated. A necklace that draws the eye to her collarbone. Earrings that catch the light.
Heels. High enough to add height, but not so high that she cannot move comfortably.
And her hair.
Down.
Loose.
Falling over her shoulders in soft waves.
I want every single person at that gala to look at her and know, without question, that she is mine.
That she is claimed.
That she is untouchable.
My amber veins pulse with warm, possessive light.
"Cyprian," Tamsin says slowly. "You are doing the intense thing again."
"I am aware."
"It is a little terrifying."
"Good."
She shakes her head, but she is smiling.
"You are unhinged."
"I am devoted."
"Same thing."
I cross the room in three strides.
My hands settle on her waist, lifting her effortlessly onto the edge of the conference table.
She gasps, her hands flying to my shoulders for balance.
I step between her thighs, caging her in.
My wings unfold slightly, wrapping around us, creating a sanctuary of obsidian feathers and soft gold light.
"I am going to dress you in silk and diamonds," I say quietly. "I am going to walk into that gala with you on my arm. And I am going to make absolutely certain that every single person in that room understands that you are mine."
Her breath catches.
"That is extremely possessive."
