Ariana's breath came fast, shallow. Her chest rose and fell with panic, every instinct screaming run. But she couldn't. She was trapped—physically and mentally—between fear and the strange pull of the man in front of her.
The vampire.
Damien's hand still cradled her chin, firm, possessive. His thumb brushed over her cheek, too gently for someone who had her kidnapped and bound.
"You're trembling," he murmured, voice like smoke curling around her thoughts. "Good. You should be."
Ariana jerked her head away. "Touch me again, and I'll kill you."
He laughed. It was low, cruel, and cold. "You think you could harm me, little mortal?" He leaned in. "You don't even understand what's happening to you yet. You're feeling it already, aren't you? The bond."
"What bond?" she snapped.
His smile vanished.
"I don't take girls. I take mine."
He stepped back and nodded once. The two guards who had brought her in vanished into the shadows behind her, leaving them alone in the chamber. The heavy doors slammed shut with a final boom that echoed down the stone corridor.
She looked around frantically. No windows. No exits. Just him.
"I know your kind," she spat, trying to sound braver than she felt. "You think because you're strong, you can take whatever you want—"
"I don't think it," he interrupted. "I know it."
He stalked toward her again. She backed up instinctively until her legs hit the bench again. He towered over her. Heat radiated off his body like a furnace. She couldn't look away from those eyes, burning straight through her.
"You're scared," he said, stepping in closer. "But your scent…" He inhaled deeply near her neck. "You're aroused."
She slapped him.
The sound cracked through the room.
Damien's head turned slightly from the blow, but he didn't move away. Slowly, his face turned back to hers. No rage. Just… hunger. Deep, devouring hunger.
"Hit me again," he said softly. "I want to feel that fire when I'm inside you."
Her heart stopped. She pushed at his chest, but he didn't budge. Instead, he grabbed her wrists, yanked them above her head, and held them with one hand. His grip was unbreakable. Not tight enough to bruise, but strong enough to tell her one truth: she wasn't going anywhere.
With his other hand, he traced a single finger down the side of her neck, stopping right at the collar of her shirt. "This skin," he whispered, "wasn't meant to be hidden."
She turned her face away, disgusted by the way her body reacted to his touch. Her thighs clenched without her permission. Her nipples peaked under the thin fabric of her tank top.
"No," she said, voice trembling.
He leaned in until his lips brushed her ear. "Yes."
He pushed her down onto the velvet bench, pinning her with his weight—heavy, solid, intoxicating. His hand slid under her shirt, dragging slowly over her stomach. Every nerve lit up. Her body betrayed her again, arching into the contact. She hated him. But gods help her, she wanted to know what it would feel like if he kept going.
Damien's mouth brushed her collarbone. His tongue flicked over her skin once.
Then he stopped.
Pulled back.
Looked down at her with something between rage and restraint.
"You're mine, Ariana. But I won't ruin you. Not yet." He stood up slowly, breathing heavy. "The first time will be the night I break your mind as well as your body. You'll beg for me. You'll scream for me. And you'll never forget who made you burn."
He turned and walked away, leaving her flushed, trembling, and painfully aware of how wet she was.
The door opened. The guards returned.
Damien didn't even look back.
"Take her to my chambers. Chain her. Wash her. Leave her untouched."
Then he was gone.
And Ariana realized with bone-deep horror:
She wasn't afraid of him because he was a monster.
She was afraid because some part of her… wanted him.