Another nod.
His grip tightens just slightly. Not enough to hurt—enough to remind me he’s there. “And you’re going to call me tonight.”
I swallow. There’s a flicker of something in my chest—hesitation, resistance, something small and sharp. “Okay.” The word leaves before I can stop it.
Soren’s mouth curves, just barely. Satisfied.
Like I gave the right answer. Like therewasa right answer.
He grabs me by the back of my neck and pulls me to him, his kiss claiming me. His tongue tangles with mine, my heart skipping as he leaves me breathless.
It’s a kiss thattakes. That presses and lingers just long enough to make my pulse spike, to make it feel like something is being sealed between us—something I didn’t agree to, but didn’t stop either.
My body reacts instantly. Heat blooms low and fast, sharp enough to make me inhale against his mouth. My fingers twitch at my sides, unsure whether to push him away or pull him closer.
I do neither. I just…feelit. That rush—that dizzy, addictive pull that makes everything else fade.
When he pulls back, he doesn’t go far. His forehead rests against mine, his breath warm against my lips. “You’re mine,” he murmurs.
My stomach flips hard. I let out a small laugh—thin, breathy, instinctive. Like if I treat it like a joke, it becomes one.
But Soren doesn’t laugh in return. He doesn’t even smile. He just watches me. Waiting.
The silence stretches—something inside me tightens.
My throat constricts. My lips part. And I say it.
Not because I mean it. Not because I’ve thought it through.
Because the moment demands something from me. Because he’s waiting. Because I don’t know what happens if I don’t give him what he wants.
“Okay,” I whisper.
The word feels small.
Soren’s smile spreads slowly, something dark threading through it. Not relief or happiness. Satisfaction.
“Good girl,” he murmurs.
Like it’s natural. Like it’s familiar. Like it’s already his to say.
The words land heavy. Not sharp—worse than that. Deep. Like a bruise forming under the surface. Between my thighs, something pulses in response.
Before I can react, he kisses me again—shorter this time, but no less intentional.
My body floods with sensation, a sharp pulse of heat and adrenaline that leaves me off-balance when he steps back.
He touches my chin, light but directing, tilting my face up just enough to hold my attention. “Go,” he says. Calm. Certain. “Before I change my mind and drag you out of here.”
My breath catches.
He says it like it’s a joke. But his eyes don’t soften. There’s something real sitting underneath the words—something that makes my stomach dip—not entirely fear.
He releases me just as easily as he took hold of me. Turns. Walks away. Doesn’t look back.
His stride is the same as before—steady, unhurried, like nothing just happened. Like he didn’t just say something that should have made me run. As if he already knows I won’t.
I stand there for a second too long. Frozen. My heart racing, my lips still tingling, my body buzzing.