Asher didn't speak a word as they left the Grand Hall. His hand was a cold, iron vise on Mia's arm, pulling her through the throng of bowing, silent vampires. The bond, still violently active, transmitted his mood with crushing clarity: a terrifying mixture of uncontrolled rage at Kael's audacity and a dark, possessive satisfaction at having publicly asserted his claim.
She stumbled, her expensive heels catching on the marble, but his grip only tightened, hauling her onward. The long descent felt like a forced march to execution.
Finally, they reached his private sanctuary—the vast chamber where she'd first awakened, now seemingly smaller, more menacing. Asher slammed the door shut with a force that shook the entire frame. The sound was deafening, a punctuation mark on the end of her fragile composure.
He released her arm, but the movement was so abrupt that she spun, losing her balance. She crashed back against the cold, hard wood of the door, the impact stealing her breath.
He didn't move to help her. He simply stood there, six feet away, his chest heaving faintly beneath the tailored suit. His eyes, usually dark and controlled, were now blazing with a suppressed crimson flicker, a sign of his internal, monstrous fury.
"You embarrassed me," he stated, his voice low, dangerously soft.
Mia instinctively pressed her palms against the wood, trying to anchor herself. "I was terrified! You introduced me to a hall full of—of predators! And then that one, Kael, he tried to force his way into my mind! What did you expect me to do, Asher? Smile?"
His face darkened, the air thickening around them. Mia felt the pressure of his suppressed power—a heavy, invisible force that made her lungs ache. The bond, directly transmitting his fury, made her stomach clench with sympathetic fear and a terrible, unwelcome adrenaline rush.
"I expected obedience," he growled, taking a single, slow step closer. "I expected control. Your fear is a weakness they can smell, Mia. Kael sensed it, and he tested the tether. He challenged my right to you."
"But he was challenging you, not me!"
"You are one and the same," Asher snapped, closing the distance between them until he was looming over her. "You are the face of the Valerius contract. Your weakness is my weakness. Your failure to stand is my failure to command."
He caged her against the door, his hands resting on either side of her head, his palms flat against the wood. The proximity was immediate, intense, suffocating. She was trapped, the heavy scent of his dominance and cold fury filling her senses. The bond screamed in her mind, amplifying the raw, sexual tension that simmered beneath his rage.
"You trembled," he murmured, his gaze dropping to her throat, where her pulse hammered wildly against the silver necklace. "You almost collapsed."
"You did that," she whispered, her voice barely audible, struggling to breathe. "You did that with your public display!"
"No," he corrected, his voice dropping to a seductive rasp. "I did that with my protection. And you will learn to receive it."
His dark eyes locked onto hers, burning with an almost painful intensity. The rage was still there, a cold undercurrent, but now it was overlaid with something deeper, more dangerous: an unbridled, possessive desire that hit her through the bond like a physical blow. Her knees weakened instantly, and she felt a corresponding, shameful heat coil low in her stomach.
Mine. Respond. I need your response. The thought was a raw, commanding stroke in her mind.
Asher shifted, his body pressing flush against hers, crushing the wine-colored gown between them. The shock of the contact—the hard, unyielding muscle of his chest against her softer curves—stole the air from her lungs. He lowered his head, his face inches from hers.
"You are designed to survive me, kitten," he whispered, his breath hot against her ear, "but you are not designed to deny me."
His lips brushed hers—once, soft and speculative—and then he withdrew, letting the tension coil tighter. Mia gasped, a small, involuntary sound of desperate anticipation. The bond flared, and she felt his dark pleasure at her reaction, her body's immediate, traitorous surrender.
"You will learn the consequences of insubordination," he stated, his voice firm, "but you will also learn the rewards of obedience."
This time, there was no hesitation. His mouth descended, claiming hers with a bruising, demanding intensity. It wasn't tender; it was a hungry assertion of ownership, a public vow translated into a private, electrifying act.
Mia's mind screamed resistance, but her body betrayed her. Her hands, raised to push him away, instead clenched the fabric of his suit jacket. The intense, cold pressure of his lips gave way to a shocking, undeniable warmth that spread through her, amplified by the searing flow of emotion through the bond.
She felt his ancient, consuming need—the primal urge of the predator claiming its prize—and it ignited a matching, desperate fire within her. It was terrifying, overwhelming, and impossibly arousing. She felt herself leaning into the kiss, answering his demand with a trembling, tentative desperation.
He deepened the kiss, his control momentarily slipping as he devoured her gasp. One of his hands slipped from the door, sliding down the back of her neck, his thumb pressing possessively against her racing pulse. The other left the wood to wrap around her waist, pulling her impossibly tighter, cementing the contact until there was no space, no air, just the crushing dominance of his body and the raw, electrical surge of the bond.
She was kissing a monster. She was kissing her captor. And with every frantic, intoxicating surge of the bond, she felt the terrifying, impossible truth: she wanted this. She wanted him.
As quickly as it began, Asher tore his mouth from hers. He rested his forehead against hers, both of them breathing hard, raggedly. His eyes were closed, his jaw rigid, the crimson flicker of his power barely contained.
"That," he muttered, his voice hoarse, "was a lesson, Mia. The reward for your presentation. And a warning to me of the restraint you demand."
He straightened abruptly, forcing distance between their bodies. The cold returned, but the heat of the kiss and the raw emotional residue of the bond lingered, a heavy, intoxicating weight.
He ran a hand over his face, regaining his composure. "You will not leave this chamber tonight. You will not disobey my direct command. Ela will return with your supper. You will eat, and you will sleep. Tomorrow, your true training begins. You will learn the difference between fear and respect, and you will learn to control the bond."
He turned away, walking toward a dark, intricate mahogany desk in the corner of the room. He didn't look back.
Mia remained leaning against the door, her lips tingling, her body shaking, her pulse slowly calming to a frantic, heavy thud. She touched her mouth with trembling fingers, tasting the faint, coppery tang of his possessive kiss.
The bond pulsed, and she felt a final, dominant, and strangely satisfied thought from him: The line has been crossed, little one. There is no going back now.
She hated him. She hated the bond. But deep down, where the terror met the heat, Mia knew he was right. The taste of his dominance, the terrifying surge of the bond—it had changed everything. And she realized that the greatest threat in this vampire world wasn't the Court, or Kael, but the dark, demanding prince who now owned her every thought and every breath.