The throne room emptied, but the tension between us didn't.
It thickened — electric, dangerous — until every breath felt like a sin.
Lucian didn't release me from his lap.
He didn't even move.
He just stared at me — the wild, blood-streaked girl who had survived what should have broken her.
His fingers tightened on my hips, grinding me down against the hard line of his arousal through his leathers.
I gasped, heat flooding my core.
His mouth curved into a savage grin.
"You feel that?" he murmured, voice like velvet wrapped in barbed wire. "That's what you do to me, little Queen."
He dragged his mouth along my throat — slow, punishing — letting his teeth scrape the sensitive skin there.
Not biting.
Yet.
I arched into him instinctively, desperate for more.
He growled low, deep in his chest, and it vibrated through my whole body.
"You survived the Blood Rites," he said, licking a line up to my ear. "You belong to me now. Body and soul."
"You don't own me," I rasped, even as my body betrayed me, grinding shamelessly against him.
He laughed — dark and brutal.
"No, Seraphina. You own yourself… But I will make you beg to give it all to me."
He stood, lifting me effortlessly in his arms, my legs wrapping around his waist without thinking.
He carried me through darkened halls, his mouth claiming mine again and again — desperate, possessive kisses that tasted of blood and ruin.
When we reached his private chambers — a massive, shadow-drenched room that smelled like smoke and sin — he kicked the heavy door shut with a brutal slam.
"You sure you want this?" he rasped against my lips.
I stared into his eyes — those black-gold flames of madness and desire.
And I knew.
Lucian was the end of me.
But he was also the only place I had ever truly belonged.
"Yes," I whispered.
It was all he needed.
He laid me down on the massive bed, tearing the remains of my crimson dress from my body like paper.
I gasped at the feel of the cool air against my flushed, feverish skin.
Lucian stood over me for a long, charged moment — his eyes devouring every inch of me.
"Perfect," he growled, voice thick with hunger.
He stripped in seconds, revealing a body carved from war and nightmares — muscles rippling with every movement, old battle scars painting stories across his skin.
And gods help me, he was beautiful.
He climbed over me, one knee between my thighs, hands braced on either side of my head.
"You saved a monster," he whispered.
"I know," I breathed.
"And you still want him?"
"I want you. All of you."
A shudder tore through him.
Then he kissed me — not gentle this time, not careful.
This was claiming.
A storm crashing into a wildfire.
His hands roamed everywhere — rough and sure — igniting fires under my skin.
He worshiped every inch of me with his mouth, branding me with his teeth, leaving marks on my hips, my thighs, the soft swell of my breast.
Mine, mine, mine — his body said it over and over again.
When he finally pressed into me, it wasn't soft or tentative.
It was wild.
Devouring.
I cried out, clutching at his shoulders as he thrust deep, burying himself to the hilt.
He cursed against my neck, voice raw.
"Fuck, Seraphina — you're perfect. You're mine."
Each movement was brutal, primal — dragging me higher and higher until I thought I would shatter.
I met him thrust for thrust, my nails raking down his back, my cries filling the vast, echoing room.
It wasn't love.
It was survival.
It was rage and grief and need colliding all at once.
It was two broken creatures finding something whole for the first time in their ruined lives.
Lucian drove into me harder, faster, until the world blurred and all I could feel was him.
My release slammed into me like a tidal wave, ripping a scream from my throat.
Lucian followed with a roar, spilling into me with a final, brutal thrust.
He collapsed over me, panting, his forehead pressed to mine.
For a long, shuddering moment, we just lay there — tangled in blood and sweat and broken promises.
When he finally spoke, it was so quiet I almost missed it.
"I will destroy anyone who tries to take you from me," he vowed.
And deep down, I knew:
He wasn't just making a promise.
He was making a threat — to the world, and maybe even to me.
Because loving a monster came with a price.
And Lucian Blackthorn would never let me go.
Not now.
Not ever.