The air was still crackling from the fight, the demon's ashes not yet cold. Elena's chest rose and fell, her body trembling from fear, exhaustion… and something else.
Adrian's hand stayed firm on her waist. His crimson eyes glowed faint in the dark, wild but steady, locking her in place.
"You're shaking," he whispered.
"I'm fine," she lied.
"You're not," he smirked, pulling her closer, "but you will be."
Her breath caught. His lips brushed her temple, a fleeting kiss — soft, then sharper.
Her pulse raced. The danger was over, yet her heart pounded harder than it had in battle.
Why does he make me feel like this?
"Elena."
The way he said her name… rough, low, like a promise and a threat at once.
Her knees nearly gave out.
Then his mouth found hers.
Hot. Demanding. Ravenous.
Each kiss was a brand. Each breath stolen, claimed.
Her hands fumbled against his chest, but instead of pushing, she clung.
He deepened the kiss, devouring, teasing, taking.
Her lips parted, helplessly, willingly.
"Adrian—" she gasped when he broke away, only to have him silence her with another kiss.
"You belong to me," he murmured, voice husky, lips grazing hers as he spoke.
"Say it."
"I…" She hesitated, overwhelmed.
"Say it," he growled, a devil demanding tribute.
"…I belong to you."
His grin was sinful. His hand slid down her side, fingers curling against her hip.
Her body jolted at his touch.
"Elena," he whispered, "do you trust me?"
She nodded, breathless.
"Good," he said, pushing her back against the wall.
His lips trailed down her neck, hot and slow, nipping just enough to make her gasp. Her pulse fluttered against his mouth.
Her dress shifted under his touch. His hand slipped beneath the fabric, grazing bare skin, tracing fire up her thigh.
"Adrian… wait—"
"No waiting," he murmured, eyes burning, "you've kept me starving long enough."
His fingers pressed against her, coaxing a sharp cry from her lips.
Her back arched. Her legs trembled.
The rhythm of his touch was merciless.
Slow. Then faster. Then deep.
Her moans filled the room, each one feeding his obsession.
"You're sweet," he groaned, kissing her jaw, "too sweet… made only for me."
Then — the moment he pushed deeper — her body tensed, tight, resisting.
Her cry was sharper this time.
Adrian froze. His eyes widened, then narrowed in realization.
A dangerous laugh escaped him.
"Well, well…" His voice was low, husky, wicked.
"My Elena… untouched."
Her face flushed scarlet. "Adrian—"
"Shhh," he hushed, but his smirk deepened. "A virgin. Mine. Only mine."
He moved again, slower now, savoring every reaction.
She whimpered, nails digging into his arm, her body betraying her innocence with every shiver.
"Don't hide," he commanded, kissing her hard.
"Let me hear you."
Her voice broke on his name.
"Adrian…"
Every moan, every gasp, every tremor — it all drove him mad. He wanted her. Needed her. To take her, to brand her, to ruin her forever.
But then he stopped.
Elena blinked up at him, breathless, confused.
"Why— why did you—"
Adrian leaned close, his forehead pressing against hers, his breath ragged.
"Because," he growled, voice trembling with restraint, "your first time won't be against a wall, with me half-crazed from battle."
His lips brushed hers again, soft this time, reverent.
"When I take you, little dove, it will be when you're begging for me. When you can't live without me inside you. When I ruin you completely."
Her heart raced at his words. Fear. Desire. Longing. All tangled.
He pulled his hand away, slow, deliberate — then brought his fingers to his lips, licking them clean as his eyes burned into hers.
"Your taste," he murmured darkly, "belongs only to me."
Elena buried her face in his chest, mortified, trembling, but unable to deny the hunger coiled inside her now.
Adrian wrapped her in his arms, victorious, satisfied — not because he had taken her, but because he knew he already owned her.
"Mine," he whispered again, like a vow.
"Always mine."