The key felt like it burned her palm.
Silver. Jagged. Heavy with memory.
Each step up the grand staircase echoed like ghosts rattling chains. The east wing was colder than the rest of the house just as she remembered. A place where the sun never lingered and the walls knew how to whisper.
Raina paused at the door.
That door.
She had clawed at it once. Screamed into its grain until her voice bled. But now now she stood tall, chin raised, scars hidden behind silk and fury.
She slid the key in.
The door groaned open.
The room hadn't changed. A single iron framed bed. No windows. One flickering overhead bulb. Shadows clung to the corners like secrets.
She took a deep breath, stepped inside and laughed.
Not out of joy. But madness. Defiance. Pain.
"I survived you," she said to the room. "You didn't kill me."
But something in her cracked.
Her knees gave in.
She sat on the bed, shaking.
"Why the f**k did I come back here"
A shadow passed the doorway.
She froze.
But the scent gave him away before the voice did Damián.
"Because you want to own it," he said quietly, stepping in and shutting the door behind him. "Not just survive it. Make it yours."
She rose again, slow and graceful. The silk of her dress pooled around her feet.
"I should hate you," she whispered again.
"You already said that."
"This time, I mean it."
His gaze was dark fire. "Then prove it."
She grabbed him by the shirt and yanked him forward.
Their mouths collided hungry, bitter, wild. The kiss wasn't gentle. It wasn't romantic. It was war. Their lips clashed like swords, his tongue pushing past her teeth like an invasion. Her nails dragged down his back.
He lifted her effortlessly, pressing her against the cold wall. Her thighs wrapped around him like chains. His mouth moved to her neck, biting not gently, but like a punishment.
"You want to destroy me?" he growled into her skin. "Start here."
She shoved his jacket off.
"I will."
He tore the strap of her dress.
"Then ruin me."
Their breaths turned to gasps. Her hands slipped beneath his shirt. His fingers dipped between her thighs. His mouth tasted like sin.
She moaned into his kiss, head tipping back, surrendering not to love but to power. To control. To the electric, dangerous thrill of reclaiming something stolen.
It wasn't romance.
It was revenge sex in the ruins of her trauma.
And it tasted like freedom.
Bonus Smut Scene (Short)
Later that night, Raina sat on the same iron bed, the room now dimly lit with a single candle. Damián knelt before her, lips brushing her inner thigh.
"No games," she whispered.
"No mercy," he replied.
His tongue danced lower, slow, deliberate.
Her back arched. Fingers tangled in his hair.
He looked up, wicked grin spreading.
"You came back to burn," he murmured. "So let me worship the fire."
And then he did.
With tongue, teeth, hands until her moans echoed through the same walls that once swallowed her screams.
Tonight, she wasn't broken.
She was a goddess reborn in lust and vengeance.