Chapter 1 A Night of Chaos
"…Adult?"
The word, a fragile whisper, shattered the heavy silence of
the hotel room. Pale moonlight bled through the window, painting stark lines
across the rumpled sheets and the two figures tangled within them.
Silas Thorne loomed above her, every corded muscle in his
bare back rigid as stone, radiating an almost dangerous heat. He held himself
suspended, his gaze locked onto the face beneath him- delicate features,
impossibly small framed by his large hand, looking heartbreakingly young and
doll-like in the dim light. Yet the body pressed against his was undeniably,
lushly womanly, a maddening contradiction.
Elara Hayes stirred. Her eyelids fluttered open, revealing
eyes clouded with drink and something darker, primal. Reason was drowned in a
desperate, consuming need. The man above her was a blur of shadow and heat.
Without thought, driven purely by the ache consuming her, her arms snaked up,
fingers tangling fiercely in the hair at his nape. A soft, pleading whimper
escaped her reddened lips before she surged up, capturing his mouth. Her kiss
was clumsy, feverish, all teeth and seeking tongue, tasting of desperation and
cheap champagne. No hesitation, no resistance- only raw, unthinking hunger.
"Please," she gasped against his lips, her voice a breathy
sob thick with unshed tears. "Don't... don't stop!"
Those ragged words, that untamed hunger, snapped the last
fragile thread of Silas's control. The dark desire banked in his eyes ignited
into an inferno. When her tongue insistently sought entry past his tightly
sealed lips, any lingering thought of restraint vanished.
A low growl rumbled in his chest. One large, powerful hand
fisted in her hair, angling her head back, while the other clamped possessively
on the curve of her hip, pressing her deeper into the mattress. His mouth
crashed down on hers, not a kiss but a claiming. It was fierce, demanding, a
primal force meeting her chaotic fire. Predation wasn't just his nature; it was
the bedrock of his being, and it roared to life now, consuming them both. He
hadn't known he could feel this – this ravenous, all-consuming madness to
possess, to devour.
Outside, the moon climbed higher, casting long, shifting
shadows. The night deepened, wrapping the room in velvet darkness broken only
by ragged breaths and the slick slide of skin on skin.
Again... and again...
Until Elara's desperate pleas dissolved into exhausted
whimpers, her frantic movements stilled, her body finally limp and pliant
beneath his relentless possession. Only the shallow rise and fall of her chest
betrayed the chaos that had just consumed her.
Silence descended, thick and charged. The only sound was
Silas's own harsh breathing as he stared down at the ruined innocence in his
arms.
Dawn stabbed through the curtains. Every muscle screamed as
Elara woke.
Alone?
Then she felt it—warm skin against her back. Steady breath
on her neck.
She froze.
Memory detonated: The Meridian Ballroom – 6 Hours Earlier
Under the glittering crystal lights of the Meridian's
ballroom, the end of the graduation party is in full swing, and Elara, the
newest graduate of Kingsford University's Business School, the silver blue
dress wrapped around her slender frame, is surrounded by a wave of
congratulations.The champagne tower reflects a dazzling stream of light, and
the air is filled with the sweet scent and joy of success.
Her cousin Bianca, in a predatory light purple gown, slid
beside her, honeyed smile fixed. "Congratulations, Elara!" She pressed a
flute of champagne into her hand. In the crowd's hubbub, Bianca deftly shielded
her eyes with her shoulder. The tiny diamonds on her ring finger flashed—and in
that instant, a pinch of colourless powder slid silently into Elara's glass.
Bianca gave it a subtle swirl.
"Cheers!"
Elara smiled and sipped. Almost immediately, an unfamiliar
heaviness gripped her limb. The champagne was cool, but ignited searing heat in
her stomach. Her thoughts jammed, engulfed in thick fog. "I… studied ..." she struggled, tongue
thick. "Business..." The lights, the faces, Bianca's smile—all began to
spin and melt violently. She felt herself plummeting. The floor dissolved. Her
fingertips loosened. The glass slipped, shattering crisply on the marble,
golden liquor splashing like her graduation celebration.
Dizziness slammed her. Before understanding drugged, gnarled
fingers locked onto her arm. An old man, eyes cold and fixed ahead, steered her
relentlessly down the corridor. Panic flared. "Wha…? D' I… know you?" she
slurred. He gave no answer, grip tightening, his silent determination more
terrifying than words.
Pure terror took over. She twisted and bit his arm – hard. A
grunt escaped him, his grip momentarily slackening. It was enough. Wrenching
free, she stumbled forward, her legs like water, the hallway a dizzying blur.
Spinning, she spotted salvation and damnation in one glance: a heavy door
standing slightly ajar, spilling a wedge of dim light onto the carpet.
She lunged for it.
What happened next behind the door seared into her memory –
a moment of pure, life-altering shame.
Now
Elara thrashed in silk sheets, each memory searing her veins
like aged brandy.
Her hands fumbling at his shirt.
Her mouth chasing his shadowed jaw.
Whispered pleas she'd choke on if daylight could hear them.
She'd been wildfire in silk—
A stranger to herself.
To Julian.
To everything but the man who'd wrecked her with rough hands
and rougher promises.
Now, beneath the sheets, his arm lay heavy across her naked
waist.
Don't move.
Don't breathe.
Her heart stalled as his muscles flexed—then relaxed. He
rolled away, reclaiming his side of the bed with military precision. Hands
folded over his chest. Breath even.
The perfect gentleman.
Liar.
Her mind replayed it anyway:
The bite of his belt buckle against her thigh.
The way he'd snarled "Mine" when she shook apart.
Tears scalded her throat. She bit her lip until copper
bloomed on her tongue.
Get out. Now.
Silk whispered as she slid from the bed— leaving the beast
sleeping in his gilded cage.
Her legs trembled as she snatched clothes from the floor—his
oversized shirt, her crumpled dress, shame tangled in silk. Dressing felt like
donning flimsy armour against the memories scorching her skin.
Run.
She stumbled toward the door. Her handbag lay spilled like a
confession: lipstick, keys, phone dead.
Just like her future.
Stuffing her life back into leather, she fled the room
reeking of sex and regret.
The hallway stretched—silent, endless, another gilded cage.
Every shadow pulsed with threat. Bianca's laugh. Julian's fury. Silas's hands—
Ding.
The elevator doors slid open.
Her breath froze.
Julian.
Beige coat. Ice-chip eyes. That mouth she'd kissed last week
now a blade's edge.
"Elara." Her name cracked the silence. "Why are
you here?" Her heart slammed against her ribs. Her lips trembled. No sound came
out.
Run to him. Sob out the truth!
But her feet were stone—because the woman leaning against
the elevator wall wore Julian's cologne like a second skin. Serena Vance.
Smirking. Reapplying blood-red lipstick.
"Elara. What had happened?" Julian stepped forward,
deliberately blocking Serena. His thumb brushed her tear-streaked cheek. "You
look terrible!" Elara flinched like he'd branded her.
Silence screamed.
Did she see? Did she recognise Serena?
Ice shot through Julian's veins. His gaze flicked sideways,
confirming Serena's presence, her smirk widening.
Chapter 1 A Night of Chaos
"…Adult?"
The word, a fragile whisper, shattered the heavy silence of
the hotel room. Pale moonlight bled through the window, painting stark lines
across the rumpled sheets and the two figures tangled within them.
Silas Thorne loomed above her, every corded muscle in his
bare back rigid as stone, radiating an almost dangerous heat. He held himself
suspended, his gaze locked onto the face beneath him- delicate features,
impossibly small framed by his large hand, looking heartbreakingly young and
doll-like in the dim light. Yet the body pressed against his was undeniably,
lushly womanly, a maddening contradiction.
Elara Hayes stirred. Her eyelids fluttered open, revealing
eyes clouded with drink and something darker, primal. Reason was drowned in a
desperate, consuming need. The man above her was a blur of shadow and heat.
Without thought, driven purely by the ache consuming her, her arms snaked up,
fingers tangling fiercely in the hair at his nape. A soft, pleading whimper
escaped her reddened lips before she surged up, capturing his mouth. Her kiss
was clumsy, feverish, all teeth and seeking tongue, tasting of desperation and
cheap champagne. No hesitation, no resistance- only raw, unthinking hunger.
"Please," she gasped against his lips, her voice a breathy
sob thick with unshed tears. "Don't... don't stop!"
Those ragged words, that untamed hunger, snapped the last
fragile thread of Silas's control. The dark desire banked in his eyes ignited
into an inferno. When her tongue insistently sought entry past his tightly
sealed lips, any lingering thought of restraint vanished.
A low growl rumbled in his chest. One large, powerful hand
fisted in her hair, angling her head back, while the other clamped possessively
on the curve of her hip, pressing her deeper into the mattress. His mouth
crashed down on hers, not a kiss but a claiming. It was fierce, demanding, a
primal force meeting her chaotic fire. Predation wasn't just his nature; it was
the bedrock of his being, and it roared to life now, consuming them both. He
hadn't known he could feel this – this ravenous, all-consuming madness to
possess, to devour.
Outside, the moon climbed higher, casting long, shifting
shadows. The night deepened, wrapping the room in velvet darkness broken only
by ragged breaths and the slick slide of skin on skin.
Again... and again...
Until Elara's desperate pleas dissolved into exhausted
whimpers, her frantic movements stilled, her body finally limp and pliant
beneath his relentless possession. Only the shallow rise and fall of her chest
betrayed the chaos that had just consumed her.
Silence descended, thick and charged. The only sound was
Silas's own harsh breathing as he stared down at the ruined innocence in his
arms.
Dawn stabbed through the curtains. Every muscle screamed as
Elara woke.
Alone?
Then she felt it—warm skin against her back. Steady breath
on her neck.
She froze.
Memory detonated: The Meridian Ballroom – 6 Hours Earlier
Under the glittering crystal lights of the Meridian's
ballroom, the end of the graduation party is in full swing, and Elara, the
newest graduate of Kingsford University's Business School, the silver blue
dress wrapped around her slender frame, is surrounded by a wave of
congratulations.The champagne tower reflects a dazzling stream of light, and
the air is filled with the sweet scent and joy of success.
Her cousin Bianca, in a predatory light purple gown, slid
beside her, honeyed smile fixed. "Congratulations, Elara!" She pressed a
flute of champagne into her hand. In the crowd's hubbub, Bianca deftly shielded
her eyes with her shoulder. The tiny diamonds on her ring finger flashed—and in
that instant, a pinch of colourless powder slid silently into Elara's glass.
Bianca gave it a subtle swirl.
"Cheers!"
Elara smiled and sipped. Almost immediately, an unfamiliar
heaviness gripped her limb. The champagne was cool, but ignited searing heat in
her stomach. Her thoughts jammed, engulfed in thick fog. "I… studied ..." she struggled, tongue
thick. "Business..." The lights, the faces, Bianca's smile—all began to
spin and melt violently. She felt herself plummeting. The floor dissolved. Her
fingertips loosened. The glass slipped, shattering crisply on the marble,
golden liquor splashing like her graduation celebration.
Dizziness slammed her. Before understanding drugged, gnarled
fingers locked onto her arm. An old man, eyes cold and fixed ahead, steered her
relentlessly down the corridor. Panic flared. "Wha…? D' I… know you?" she
slurred. He gave no answer, grip tightening, his silent determination more
terrifying than words.
Pure terror took over. She twisted and bit his arm – hard. A
grunt escaped him, his grip momentarily slackening. It was enough. Wrenching
free, she stumbled forward, her legs like water, the hallway a dizzying blur.
Spinning, she spotted salvation and damnation in one glance: a heavy door
standing slightly ajar, spilling a wedge of dim light onto the carpet.
She lunged for it.
What happened next behind the door seared into her memory –
a moment of pure, life-altering shame.
Now
Elara thrashed in silk sheets, each memory searing her veins
like aged brandy.
Her hands fumbling at his shirt.
Her mouth chasing his shadowed jaw.
Whispered pleas she'd choke on if daylight could hear them.
She'd been wildfire in silk—
A stranger to herself.
To Julian.
To everything but the man who'd wrecked her with rough hands
and rougher promises.
Now, beneath the sheets, his arm lay heavy across her naked
waist.
Don't move.
Don't breathe.
Her heart stalled as his muscles flexed—then relaxed. He
rolled away, reclaiming his side of the bed with military precision. Hands
folded over his chest. Breath even.
The perfect gentleman.
Liar.
Her mind replayed it anyway:
The bite of his belt buckle against her thigh.
The way he'd snarled "Mine" when she shook apart.
Tears scalded her throat. She bit her lip until copper
bloomed on her tongue.
Get out. Now.
Silk whispered as she slid from the bed— leaving the beast
sleeping in his gilded cage.
Her legs trembled as she snatched clothes from the floor—his
oversized shirt, her crumpled dress, shame tangled in silk. Dressing felt like
donning flimsy armour against the memories scorching her skin.
Run.
She stumbled toward the door. Her handbag lay spilled like a
confession: lipstick, keys, phone dead.
Just like her future.
Stuffing her life back into leather, she fled the room
reeking of sex and regret.
The hallway stretched—silent, endless, another gilded cage.
Every shadow pulsed with threat. Bianca's laugh. Julian's fury. Silas's hands—
Ding.
The elevator doors slid open.
Her breath froze.
Julian.
Beige coat. Ice-chip eyes. That mouth she'd kissed last week
now a blade's edge.
"Elara." Her name cracked the silence. "Why are
you here?" Her heart slammed against her ribs. Her lips trembled. No sound came
out.
Run to him. Sob out the truth!
But her feet were stone—because the woman leaning against
the elevator wall wore Julian's cologne like a second skin. Serena Vance.
Smirking. Reapplying blood-red lipstick.
"Elara. What had happened?" Julian stepped forward,
deliberately blocking Serena. His thumb brushed her tear-streaked cheek. "You
look terrible!" Elara flinched like he'd branded her.
Silence screamed.
Did she see? Did she recognise Serena?
Ice shot through Julian's veins. His gaze flicked sideways,
confirming Serena's presence, her smirk widening.