Sorry for the little mistake readers, I posted 7 before 6 but here is the 6 now... Thanks
Chapter 6 by C Amara Vale
Damien wasn't beside her.
The sheets still carried his scent—clean spice and sin. Her thighs ached from the night before. Her skin was still flushed, marked by his touch even where no bruises showed.
And her collar still lay snug around her throat.
She stared at her reflection in the black-tinted window.
Eyes swollen from sleep. Lips bitten. Pulse visible just beneath that silver tag like it was whispering his name from under her skin.
What had she become in one night?
Something felt… wrong.
---
She got out of bed and moved silently to the door. It wasn't locked. That surprised her.
What surprised her more was the man standing just beyond it.
A soldier.
Not one of the guards from before. This one wore a different patch. Not Damien's.
His hand hovered near his weapon.
He didn't see her yet.
Zara stepped back and let the door shut quietly.
---
She found Damien in the lower hall, speaking to two sharply dressed men she didn't recognize. His tone was calm, but his posture was all warning — broad shoulders tense, jaw tight.
She didn't think. She walked straight to him and touched his arm.
His entire body tensed.
"Who's in the house?" she asked quietly.
He didn't look at her right away.
But when he did, his eyes had gone darker. Harder.
"Who did you see?"
"Not one of your men."
That was all she said.
That was all he needed.
---
Without a word, Damien turned to the men and snapped his fingers. One of them immediately pulled out a phone. The other muttered something into his wrist mic.
Zara didn't ask questions.
But the way Damien's hand closed around hers as he led her upstairs again—
She understood what power felt like when it turned into protection.
---
Back in the room, he closed the door and faced her.
"They weren't supposed to be inside," he said.
"So you've got enemies now, too?"
He gave a humorless laugh. "Everyone's my enemy, sweetheart. I'm just more charming about it."
She crossed her arms. "What do they want?"
"Depends on the day," he said simply, then stepped closer.
His hand lifted to her collar, fingertips brushing lightly across the metal.
"But right now, all I want is to keep what's mine breathing."
Her eyes flared. "You don't own me."
His grip tightened just slightly. "Then take it off."
She hesitated.
He waited.
And when she didn't move, he gave her a wicked smile.
"That's what I thought."
---
She slapped him.
Not hard enough to draw blood.
But hard enough to silence the room.
His head barely moved.
He looked at her like he'd just been offered a second helping of sin.
"You want war, Zara?" he murmured. "Or do you just want to feel something stronger than fear?"
She stepped closer, eyes blazing. "I want you to bleed before I break."
He grabbed her waist and shoved her against the wall.
"You first," he whispered, lips brushing her jaw.
And damn her soul—
She wanted to drown in that war.
---
If love feels like war… who's the first to surrender?
To be continued...
By C. Amara Vale