The room Nathan locked her in was no dungeon. Far from it. It was a palace carved in the heart of ruin—a sanctuary gilded in velvet and silk, where the faint aroma of cedar and firewood lingered in the air.
Heavy drapes kept the world outside hidden, while the glow of a fireplace painted the walls in gold and shadow. A king-sized bed, draped in pristine sheets, stood like a throne at the center. On the surface, it was comfort. In truth, it was a cage.
And Lexi knew it.
She sat cross-legged on the bed, her dark hair spilling over her shoulders like a silk curtain. Her eyes glinted in the firelight, sharp and amused, as if she were watching a play no one else could see.
Nathan stood near the door, arms crossed, his jaw tense enough to snap. His broad frame filled the room with both safety and suffocation, the perfect contradiction that defined him.
"You think this is protection?" Lexi's voice was soft, velvety, yet edged with mockery. She tilted her head, lips curving. "It feels more like imprisonment."
Nathan's eyes flickered. He wasn't used to defiance that came not with fire but with silk, not with shouting but with quiet daggers hidden in words. His voice was gravel when he spoke. "You're reckless. One wrong step out there and you'll be torn apart. Do you think I'll let you throw your life away?"
Lexi laughed, low and amused. "And so, you lock me in your gilded box. How thoughtful of you, Nathan. Should I thank you for the silk sheets before or after you bolt the door?"
Her taunting stirred something in him. Something darker than anger. Something more dangerous. He took a step forward, closing the distance between them, his eyes burning into hers. "You don't understand," he said through gritted teeth. "Every time you walk into danger, it feels like my chest is being ripped open. I'm not locking you away because I want to—"
"—but because you need to," she cut him off smoothly, her smile widening. "Because you can't stand the thought of losing control, can you?"
Her words hit their mark. His fists clenched, veins straining against his skin. Control—yes, that was what he prided himself on. Yet in front of her, control slipped like water through his fingers. He wanted to protect her. He wanted to punish her. He wanted to kiss her until she forgot how to breathe.
He moved so quickly that the air shifted. In an instant, Lexi's back was pressed against the wall, his arm braced beside her head, his body looming dangerously close. His breath was hot against her cheek, and the storm in his eyes crackled between fury and desire.
Sometimes he forgets that she was just eighteen. But he didn't care.
"You enjoy this," Nathan rasped, his voice low and rough. "Pushing me. Testing me. Do you want to see how far I can go before I lose it?"
Lexi's lips parted, not in fear but in a sly smile. Her lashes lowered, and she tilted her face until her lips almost brushed his. The space between them pulsed like a heartbeat. "Maybe," she whispered. "Maybe I just like watching you unravel, Nathan. The mighty commander losing his calm over… me."
The corner of his mouth twitched, not in humor but in torment. He hated her audacity, but he hated more how much he craved it. His hand slid to her jaw, tilting her face up. His thumb brushed her lower lip, rough against softness, and his eyes darkened.
"You don't know what kind of fire you're playing with," he warned, his voice shaking with the effort of restraint.
Lexi, unflinching, let her tongue flick briefly against his thumb, tasting him. The deliberate act set him ablaze. Her smirk deepened. "Oh, I know," she purred. "I just happen to like fire."
His mouth crashed against hers, fierce and demanding. It wasn't a kiss of tenderness; it was war, punishment, desperation all at once. His lips devoured hers, his hand fisting in her hair, pulling her closer as if he could anchor her to him, claim her, make her stay. The fire in the hearth roared, but it was nothing compared to the heat between them.
Lexi kissed him back, but not as a woman conquered. No—she kissed him as a queen entertaining her knight, calm and calculated even in the midst of chaos. She yielded, then withdrew, teased, then allowed just enough to keep him burning. She controlled the rhythm without him realizing it. And that realization infuriated him further.
He pulled back slightly, his breathing ragged, his forehead pressed against hers. "You drive me insane," he growled. "One minute I want to lock you away from the world, the next I want to chain you to me so you'll never leave."
Her laughter, soft and sultry, brushed against his lips. "And yet," she whispered, "you can do neither."
His grip tightened, his frustration boiling. "Damn you, Lexi," he said, voice breaking with the weight of his emotions. "You think this is a game, but it's not. I can't—" His words choked off, swallowed by the raw need in his chest. "I can't lose you."
Her eyes, glimmering like onyx, met his with unnerving calm. "Then don't," she said simply, as though it were that easy. But her smirk betrayed her thoughts—thoughts she would never let him read.
Nathan exhaled shakily, his forehead still pressed to hers. For a long moment, silence ruled the room. His breathing, rough and uneven, mingled with hers. His heart thundered, a storm he could not quiet. He wanted to kiss her again, harder, until he wiped off that maddening smile from her face. He wanted to shake her, to beg her, to make her understand.
But he did none of those things. With a strangled sound, he tore himself away, stepping back like a man burned. His fists clenched at his sides as he fought to cage his emotions once more.
"You'll stay here," he said hoarsely, his tone the fragile shell of command. "No more games, Lexi. Test me again, and you'll regret it."
Lexi reclined back onto the bed, her lips still glistening from his kiss, her expression one of lazy amusement. She propped her chin on her palm and gave him a smirk that dripped with mockery and promise alike. "We'll see, Nathan," she murmured. "We'll see."
And as he stormed out, slamming the door behind him, Lexi let her smirk linger. Because deep down, she knew the truth he would never admit:
The mighty commander had already lost.