The door to the hall had barely clicked shut when Adrian's control unraveled.
His hands were still warm from battle, still coated faintly with the scent of blood, but they came to her like she was the only anchor he had left.
"Elara…" His voice was low, rough, the kind of tone that wasn't meant for courtly conversation. "You could have been hurt."
"I'm not made of glass," she whispered, though her pulse was rioting under her skin. "You're not the only one who can fight for me."
His jaw tightened, and for a heartbeat she thought he'd argue—but then he was moving. One long stride closed the distance. She found herself pressed against the wall, the cool marble at her back a sharp contrast to the heat radiating from him.
"You don't understand," he said, eyes locked on hers. "When you stepped in front of me, I saw red. If Dante had touched you…" He stopped, the words fracturing into something unspoken.
The air between them felt heavy, charged. She could still feel the imprint of his hand at her back from earlier, the way his thumb had brushed her mark like a secret only he could read.
And then he touched it again—slowly, deliberately.
Her breath hitched. "Adrian…"
"Do you know what this means?" His voice was nearly a growl, his thumb stroking over the sensitive skin until she shivered. "This mark… it's not just a claim. It ties us. It binds your heartbeat to mine."
Her lips parted, but no sound came out—because he was lowering his head, his mouth brushing her jaw, trailing down until his lips hovered just over the mark.
"Every time you move, I feel it here," he murmured, pressing her palm against his chest where his heart thundered. "And when you defy me…" His lips grazed her ear, sending heat spiraling low in her stomach. "…it makes me want to remind you who you belong to."
Her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt. "Then remind me."
That was all it took.
He kissed her hard, like the fight had left him starving and she was the only thing that could satisfy him. His hands roamed—one cupping the back of her head, the other at her waist, pulling her flush against him until she could feel every hard line of his body.
The marble was unyielding against her spine, but he was all heat and strength and barely leashed hunger. His mouth moved to her throat, his teeth grazing the mark again. She gasped, her knees weakening, and his arm was suddenly under her thighs, lifting her effortlessly.
She clung to him as he carried her across the room, the kiss never breaking, until her back met the edge of a table. Papers scattered to the floor, ignored.
"You're trembling," he murmured, lips brushing her ear.
"So are you."
His eyes caught hers, gold burning through the darker tones. "Because you drive me past reason."
And when his mouth found hers again, she knew reason had already left the room.