Adeline had learned something important in the past few days.Donovan did not touch her recklessly.That, somehow, frightened her more.He showed his desire the way kings showed power—slowly, deliberately, as if he already owned the ground beneath her feet and had no need to rush. There were no sudden grabs, no crude words thrown like weapons. Instead, there was presence. His presence filled rooms before he did.She felt it now.She stood by the tall window of her gilded room, watching the estate breathe in the distance—guards changing shifts, cars gliding in and out, the world moving under his command. She heard the door open behind her without announcement.She didn't turn."You're learning," Donovan said.His voice was calm. Deep. Too controlled."Learning what?" she asked, keeping her eyes forward."That silence can be louder than screams."Her fingers curled against the curtain.He came closer, slow steps, unhurried. She felt him behind her like heat, like gravity. Still, he did not touch her."You no longer flinch when I enter," he continued. "You don't beg. You don't cry."She swallowed. "Is that what you want?""No," he said. "It's what you're becoming."That was worse.He stopped close enough that she could smell him—clean, expensive, faintly metallic. She hated that her body noticed. Hated that her breath changed without permission."I don't want you afraid all the time, Adeline," he said quietly. "Fear dulls desire."She turned then, too fast, anger flashing through the dread. "You think this—" she gestured helplessly between them "—is desire?"His eyes darkened."Yes."The word landed heavy."Desire," he continued, "is not always gentle. Sometimes it's patient. Sometimes it watches. Sometimes it waits until resistance grows tired."He lifted a hand then—not to grab, not to hurt—but to tuck a loose strand of her hair behind her ear.The touch was brief.Intentional.Electric.Adeline's breath hitched before she could stop it.Donovan noticed.A slow smile curved his lips—not triumphant, not mocking. Possessive."There," he murmured. "That."She stepped back sharply, heart racing. "You're confusing control with—""With want?" he finished. "No. I know the difference."He moved closer again, forcing her back until the window pressed cool against her spine. Still, he kept space between their bodies, like a promise held just out of reach."I could take," he said softly. "You know that. No one would stop me."Her pulse thundered."But I don't."His gaze traced her face, her throat, the rise and fall of her chest. Not like a man starving—but like one savoring."I let you feel it instead," he said. "Because when you finally come to me, it will not be because you were dragged."Her voice shook despite her effort. "You really believe that?""I don't believe," Donovan replied. "I know."He stepped away then, just as suddenly, reclaiming distance like a weapon. The air felt colder without him."Eat," he added casually, turning toward the door. "Rest. Wear what you like tomorrow."She stared at him, stunned. "Why?"He paused, glanced back over his shoulder."Because desire grows best when it thinks it has a choice."The door closed.Adeline slid down against the window, trembling—not from fear alone, but from the terrifying realization that his desire was not loud or violent.It was certain.And part of her—small, traitorous, terrified—felt the pull of it tightening, inch by inch.
