The mansion was silent, the only sound the faint ticking of a clock somewhere in the dark halls. Mia Roselyn Hart sat on the edge of the grand bed, still wrapped in Asher Lucien Valerius's coat, pulse thrumming like a drum in her chest. The intensity of the night hadn't faded. If anything, it had only sharpened.
Asher stood near the door, his dark eyes glinting with something unreadable. He had been watching her since she'd regained some composure, and the predatory precision in his gaze made her shiver even as she tried to steel herself.
"Kneeling here like a little lost kitten won't change anything," he said softly, almost a whisper. "But… it does amuse me."
Mia's lips pressed together, cheeks flushed. She hated the effect he had on her. Every word, every glance, every subtle movement of his dominated her mind. And yet, despite the fear, despite the trembling, she felt drawn to him in ways she didn't understand.
He stepped closer, the room itself seeming to contract around his presence. "We need to talk about the arrangement," he said, voice low, commanding, and final.
Mia's stomach twisted. "Arrangement?" she echoed, trying to sound braver than she felt.
"Yes." He paced slowly, circling her like a shadow that refused to leave. "My parents are insisting. Tradition dictates a bride. And you… you are perfect."
Mia blinked, confused. "Perfect?" she asked incredulously. "You've never even known me!"
"As you are," he replied, voice dark, measured, and persuasive. "Your fire, your fragility, your… scent… all of it." His gaze pierced her, unflinching. "No one else could hold me the way you can. And no one else could withstand me."
Mia's chest tightened. "I… I can't—this is insane! You don't even know me. You can't just—"
He raised a hand, cutting her off. The dominance in his posture, the power in his words, made her pause mid-sentence. "I know more about you than you realize, kitten."
She stared, trying to mask the shiver that ran down her spine. "I… I won't," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I'll never agree to something like that!"
Asher's lips curved into a slow, predatory smile. "Oh, I think you will." He stepped closer, bridging the space until she could feel the heat radiating from him. "Not because I'll force you, not because I need to. But because in the end… you'll realize it's the only choice you can make."
Mia's heart raced. "You… you think you can intimidate me?" she asked, trying to push him back, though her hands barely moved against the taut tension of her own fear.
"I don't need to intimidate you," he said softly, almost a whisper, letting his words sink like venom. "You're already drawn. You're already mine… in ways you haven't admitted to yourself."
Her pulse spiked, and a flush crept across her cheeks. "You… you're crazy," she muttered. "I don't even know why you're doing this!"
He knelt slightly, tilting his face close to hers, letting his dark eyes consume her. "Because tradition demands a bride. Because you… fascinate me in ways no one else ever could. Because your scent pulls me like nothing else. And because I can control myself enough to wait until you… understand."
Mia's lips parted slightly, breath hitching. She felt the weight of him, the closeness, the control, and she wanted to resist—but she couldn't. Every instinct screamed both terror and attraction.
"Rule one," he murmured, brushing a finger lightly across her jaw, "you obey. Rule two, you learn the limits of what you can endure. Rule three…" His lips hovered near her ear. "You will begin to see why this… contract… is in your best interest, little one."
She swallowed hard, trembling. "I… I won't… I—"
"You will," he interrupted, his deep chuckle vibrating in the room. "Because I've already decided, kitten. And I've already set the pieces in motion. Your consent isn't required… yet it will come. In time, you'll understand that resistance only makes the eventual surrender more… satisfying."
Mia's pulse raced uncontrollably. "You… you can't just…"
"I already have," he whispered, dark amusement curling in his tone. "Your information has been collected, your habits, your fears, everything… and I know what makes you tick. Everything. That's why I can make this offer, and why, in the end, you'll accept it. Because you have no idea how much I already control."
Mia's hands trembled. "You're… terrifying."
"I'm yours," he said simply, leaning down until his forehead nearly touched hers. "In ways you'll discover soon. And whether you like it or not… you'll learn the rules of my world. The first step begins tonight."
She tried to retreat, but the strength of his presence, the intoxicating pull of his dominance, held her in place. Mia felt her knees weaken. Her heartbeat was frantic. And in the quiet darkness of the mansion, surrounded by shadows and the faint scent of cedar and leather, she realized one terrifying truth: she could not run from him.
Not now. Not ever.
And Asher? He simply smiled, dark and predatory, as he let her realize just how little choice she truly had—and how sweet that lack of choice would feel once she surrendered.