Dawn lingered as low city lights basked in the room; it was dim, shadows riddling the corners, but a pale moon was carved and spilled across the ceiling. It formed a silver edge above me, sharp and clean, like a blade frozen in midair. My head buzzed. It wasn't pain, just that floating, distant hum, as if I were waking underwater.
I blinked slowly. This wasn't my room. The sheets were softer. The air smelled faintly of cedar and something like sandalwood. Leather. Smoke. Him.
Sylus.
I shifted, my head buzzing, trying to collect fragments of last night. Loud music. Heat. A grip steadying me. Then, darkness. My pulse quickened as I pushed myself up on my elbows, the sheet sliding down my shoulder.
That's when I heard it. A voice. Intense, sharp, angry.
I turned my head toward the balcony. The glass doors stood slightly open, curtains moving with the early breeze. Beyond them, silhouetted against the pale sky, stood Sylus. Shirtless. Barefoot. One hand braced on the railing, the other holding his phone tight enough that his knuckles were white.
He was speaking in a language I didn't understand. The words were clipped and harsh. Controlled rage wrapped in precision. cold and distant Not loud, but dangerous.
My stomach tightened as I watched him for a moment, frozen. The muscles in his back flexed as he spoke, jaw set, shoulders tense like he was holding himself together by sheer force. Whatever the call was about, it wasn't small. I could feel it in the air, thick and charged.
I swung my legs over the bed, my feet touching the cool floor. The movement made my head spin slightly, but I steadied myself and stood. The sheet slipped further, barely noticed.
I stepped closer, trying to be quiet. He didn't notice me, but then I crossed the threshold of the balcony. The city below was just waking, distant and muted. He was still talking, his voice cutting through the morning, until I reached out and wrapped my arms around his waist from behind.
I pressed my cheek to his back.
"Morning," I whispered.
He stiffened instantly when the call ended mid-sentence. Silence fell, heavy and sudden. His breath hitched once before he covered my hands with his own, grounding and firm. He turned slightly to look down at me over his shoulder.
Those dark eyes softened the moment they met mine.
"You're awake," he said, quieter now. I nodded, still holding him. "You sound angry."
His jaw tightened again, but this time it felt different. Protective. Restrained. "We'll talk about it later," he said. Then, softer, almost rough with relief, "You should still be sleeping."
I leaned into him, my fingers tightening at his sides. "You left the bed." His hand slid back to my waist, pulling me closer. Possessive. Real. Other caressing the cheeks, his long fingers running along my jawline.
His expression changed into something I had never seen before, his hands firm on my arms as he guided me to face him. It wasn't rough....never that, but it was solid enough that I couldn't pretend this was nothing.
"Do you have any idea," he said, his voice low and tight, "what you got yourself into last night?"
I opened my mouth, but he didn't let me speak. "You didn't call me," he continued, his eyes dark and unwavering.
"You didn't text. You vanished. Do you know what that does to someone who cares about you?" His grip shifted to my waist, his thumbs pressing in as if he needed the pressure to stay steady. His jaw flexed, anger held back so tightly it almost shook.
"I'm not angry because you drank," he said. "I'm angry because you didn't think of asking for help, you weren't careful."
I swallowed. "Sylus…" "No," he interrupted softly but firmly. "Listen to me." He leaned closer, his forehead nearly touching mine. I could feel his breath, controlled but uneven.
"If I hadn't been there," he said, speaking slowly now, every word careful, "if I had arrived five minutes later, I don't even want to finish that thought."
His hands moved to my shoulders, holding me still. Protecting. Containing. I hesitated, my fingers twisting in the hem of my dress. "I didn't want to disturb you," I said quietly. "You were busy. I thought I could handle it."
He stood still.
"Disturb me?"
He repeated, disbelief sharp in his voice. "Ella."
He stepped closer, so close I had to tilt my head to look at him. His hands found my shoulders again, now firm.
"We are together," He said. "You do not decide that you are a burden to me. You do not disappear and call it consideration."
I tried again. "I didn't think it would get that bad. Selene was there. I was fine."
His jaw tightened. He turned away, pacing once, running a hand through his hair as if he was trying to hold himself back. Then, he turned back to me, his eyes burning. "Do you know what it felt like to hear your name on that call? To see you like that?"
My chest tightened.
"Sylus, I'm here now." He laughed once, sharp and without humor. "Because I made it in time." Silence stretched between us. It felt heavy, loud. I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around his back, pressing my cheek between his shoulder blades. His body was rigid under my touch.
"I'm sorry," I said softly, stepping closer. "I was drunk. Selene must've called Alex to pick us up… I guess you came along." He exhaled hard, as if he was holding back something ugly. "Yeah," he muttered. "I did."
I reached for him then, wrapping my arms around his from behind, my cheek pressing against his shoulder blades. I was still in my club outfit, bare skin, glitter clinging to me, the scent of alcohol and perfume still lingering.
"I'm sorry, Sylus," I whispered again, tilting my head to look up at him.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then his shoulders sagged just a little. He sighed, long and heavy, as if all the anger had drained into exhaustion. One hand came back, gripping my wrist and grounding himself.
"Don't do that to me," he said quietly, his voice low and almost breaking. "Don't disappear like that. Don't make me imagine things I can't stop."
He finally turned around, his eyes dark and intense, searching my face, as if he needed to make sure I was really there. His hands slid to my waist, firm but gentle.
"You scare me," he admitted under his breath. "And I don't scare easily."
I swallowed and pressed closer. "I won't," I promised. "I'll call. Always."
"Good," he said softly. "Because next time, I won't be this calm."
Then he pulled me into his chest, his arms locking around me like he was done letting go, his breath warm against my hair. I stayed there for a moment, wrapped in him, breathing him in until my head stopped spinning. His chest felt solid under my cheek. Safe. Mine.
He turned a little as I caught my reflection, half-visible in the window. Something wild was hidden under the darkness of a faded world in the distance, as if something was dark against my skin.
I pulled back slowly, my brows knitting together. "Wait… what is that?" "Did I have an allergic reaction?" I slipped away from him and moved toward the full-length mirror inside the room, lifting the strap of my dress off my shoulder. My breath caught.
Purple. Blue. Fading into my collarbone. Not one. Several. My fingers hovered over the marks, not touching. My heart started to race for a different reason. I stayed in front of the mirror a second longer, still trying to process it. The marks were now unmistakable. Dark. Intentional.
"Huh," I breathed. "So… not an allergy." A soft sound came from him behind me. Not a laugh. Something slower, like satisfaction. I felt him. His heat at my back. His hands slid to my waist, thumbs lightly hooking under the fabric of my dress as if testing how much I'd let him get away with.
"You figured it out fast," he said, his voice low and amused. I glanced up and met his eyes in the mirror. He looked pleased. Unapologetic. Dangerous in that calm way that made my heart race. "Sylus," I warned, but there was no bite in my voice.
He leaned in, his chest brushing my back, the warmth bleeding in, chin hovering near my shoulder. His fingers traced upward. slow, deliberate, stopping just short of the marks.
"You should have seen yourself last night," he murmured. "Clinging to me like you'd forget how to breathe if I let go."
My cheeks warmed. "I was drunk." "Yes," he agreed easily. "And honest."
His fingertips finally brushed the bruised skin. Gentle. Possessive. I inhaled sharply without meaning to.
He noticed.
Of course he did.
His lips curved. "Sensitive," he said softly. "Glad to know."
I shifted, trying to turn, but he caught me, one arm sliding around my waist, pulling me back against him like he was reminding me where I belonged. His other hand came up, resting on my hip, his thumb moving in slow, lazy circles.
"You're staring at them like they're a problem," he said. "They're not."
I swallowed. "You look… very proud." "I am," He replied without hesitation. "You woke up here. In my bed. Wearing my marks. That's a good morning."
I rolled my eyes, but my body betrayed me, leaning back into him. "You're impossible." He dipped his head, his lips brushing just below my ear, not quite kissing. Teasing.
"And yet," he murmured, "you're still standing here letting me touch you." His hand tightened slightly at my waist. Not enough to hurt, but enough to make his point.
I closed my eyes for a moment. Behind me, he smiled as he'd already won. "That's not fair," I said, turning in his arms and pointing at my shoulder like it was evidence.
"You marked me. You were perfectly clearheaded. I was not."
He arched a brow, amused. "I fail to see the crime." "The crime," I said, slipping out of his hold and backing away with a playful glare, "is misuse of advantage."
A corner of his mouth lifted. Dangerous. Teasing. "I was half asleep," I shot back, edging toward the hallway. "That does not count." He took one step forward. Slow, Deliberate. Like a predator approaching its prey. "You should have one too," I said softly, a mischievous tone in my voice.
He stepped in, invading my space on purpose. I felt his warm breath. It was controlled and teasing.
"Too eager to claim your man?" he murmured, his lips close enough for the words to brush my skin.
"Myman?" I tilted my head, letting my smile linger.
"You're a doberman. Big and intimidating. Lucky for you, I like dogs."
He made a low sound. It wasn't a laugh. It was something deeper. He leaned closer, his eyes dark and voice dropping. "Oh yeah?" he said.
"You want me behaving for you, amore?" My fingers found his necklace. The cool metal against my skin. I pulled him forward, yanking him close, the height difference between us more than visible when he leaned in. "It's not fair," I whispered. "I'm marked. You're untouched."
I leaned in. I didn't rush it. I let him feel it coming. My teeth pressed into his slope of neck, firm enough to claim and rough enough to make my point. My nails curled in his collar as I felt him take a sharp inhale, trying to find the right words and process the mind, which weren't registering any words.
--------------------
SYLUS POV~
I forgot how to breathe. The moment her teeth touched my skin, my vision blurred. My head felt light, as if my body forgot about gravity. Her breath was right there. The warmth was so close.
Too close. Way too close. I pulled her in without thinking, closing all the space between us. My hands found her waist and slid higher, gripping the fabric while feeling the chill of her skin beneath it. She was present with me. With me..
Her bite ruined the little restraint I had in me. My knees felt weak, both embarrassing and undeniable.
"Her one touch scattered my thoughts. One slow, deliberate move made the shackle that held me back broken free." I buried my face in the curve of her neck, breathing her in and steadying myself on her like she was my only support.
"If she wanted to ruin me, she could do it effortlessly.
If she ever decides to truly Seduce Me, I won't survive it. "
I lifted my head just enough to speak, my voice rough and breath uneven.
"That's not fair," I said quietly. "You know exactly what you're doing to me."
My grip tightened, protective and possessive, restrained only by sheer force.
"And I'm still trying to hold onto myself around you," I added, my lips brushing near her ear."So don't test me again unless you mean it."
I lifted you effortlessly in one smooth motion, one arm locked around her thighs as she was suspended against me, completely at my mercy.
I grinned, not a smirk. Not a dark half-smile. A full, devastatingly handsome grin that lit up even my cold eyes for just a heartbeat.
"Trying to run from me?" I murmured, "When I've spent weeks holding back? You don't get it..." I adjusted her slightly, pressing her closer as I strode forward toward the bed.
"I like it when you fight." My voice dropped to a husky whisper.
"Makes it so much sweeter when you finally give in."
The way I held you one arm braced beneath your thigh, firm, left no room for escape. She was perched against me like a prize I refused to let go of, her body angled just right to feel every inch of my strength.
My grip shifted slightly, pulling her even closer until our chests brushed. Her eyes locked onto mine, which were dark, intense, full of something dangerously close to worship masked by Obsession.
Words rolled off her tongue, "As if you will do anything~" a challenge in her voice, my voice a low growl laced with amusement.
"As if I won't make you melt? As if I don't already know the sounds you make when I touch you?"
I leaned in slowly, letting the heat between us build, A breath away from kissing her.
A breath away from letting my demons get hold of me. The way my hand slid up her thigh—an absent-minded, possessive gesture—betrayed the slight offense I took to your words.
"Is that a challenge, princess? You want me to be more... cliché?"
I caught her before she could finish a breath, my mouth finding hers with purpose.
I capture her soft lips in a searing kiss, not giving her a chance to finish the thought. It was not gentle. There's nothing soft or teasing about this. My tongue invades her mouth, slipping past, claiming her in a way that leaves no doubt in my mind.
Mine.
Her leftover gloss smudge had a soft flavour that lingered. I felt it in instant. That surrender always affected me this way.
My foot hit the back of the couch as I lowered us, carefully. She was straddling my lap, light as if she weighed nothing, as if she belonged there. Her hands instinctively rose, fingers curling into my shirt, knuckles brushing my collarbone, and pulling me in as her cold fingers against the warmth of my nape. That small contact sent a sharp thrill through me.
I feel her slender fingers clutch my collar, her body tensing in surprise—but I don't pull away. Instead, I deepen the kiss, one hand still gripping the back of her neck to keep her exactly where I want her.
My lips move over her with a fierce kind of hunger, as if I spent too long pretending I didn't want this. When he finally breaks the kiss, his breath is ragged, eyes dark and blazing as they lock onto yours.
"What are you do-" her words breathless against mine. "Don't even finish that sentence," I growl.
"Because if you say it… I won't be able to stop at just one kiss."
I breathed her in. Her essence, her very being. I caught the faint trace of last night, her skin, her warmth. It made my head feel light. I had been holding myself together by habit, and she had just loosened that grip. As the moment felt like eternity, the sync of the way she felt against me in my lap like that was addictive.
I pulled back just enough to look at her. Her lashes were lowered, lips flushed, trying to act unaffected. It never worked. I noticed everything about her. My thumb brushed along her jawline slowly, almost reverently.
Then, I took her hand, lifting it between us. I pressed my mouth to the back of her palm. Once. Then again. It was more of a promise than a kiss. My eyes stayed locked on hers. I watched how she consumed, and how her shoulders relaxed.
"She liked control. She liked pretending she had it. I enjoyed taking my time proving her wrong."
Her hair slipped forward, framing her face, catching against my knuckles as I tucked it back. My touch lingered, deliberate and possessive, without being forceful. She was close enough for me to feel her heartbeat where her chest grazed mine. Fast and honest. I leaned in, resting my forehead against hers, my voice low and steady.
"Tsk. Look at you..." I mmurmur voice a hoarse whisper.
"You're all flushed. Eyes wild, hair in a damn mess. Because of Me." My hands begin to roam, trailing over her sides and hips, possessive and hot.
"My immaculate, perfect mess."