Her body refused to move.
Sasha couldn't tell if she was frozen from fear or from the sheer shock of standing this close to him.
This close to the man Sasha had once loved from the shadows.
This close to the man who had been meant for her sister.
Her lips parted slightly, but no words came out.
Because what could Sasha possibly say?
Please don't kiss her like you mean it.
Please don't kiss her like you don't.
Ivan's fingers slid to the small of her back, and in one smooth motion, he pulled her toward him.
The distance vanished.
His chest pressed against mine.
The warmth of his body bled through the fabric of her dress, and her breath caught hard in her throat.
It wasn't supposed to feel like this.
It was supposed to be a simple kiss.
A ceremonial kiss.
A kiss for the cameras.
But the way Ivan held her didn't feel like something meant for the crowd.
It felt personal.
Possessive.
Like he was making sure Sasha understood something without ever speaking it aloud.
Her lashes fluttered, and her eyes closed on instinct.
Not because Sasha was brave.
Because Sasha didn't know what else to do.
Because her heart had been waiting for this moment for years, even while her mind screamed that Sasha had no right to want it.
Ivan's hand moved up, his fingers brushing the side of her neck.
A light touch.
A quiet warning.
Then his lips met mine.
Soft.
Warm.
For a second, everything went silent.
The church, the applause waiting to happen, the cameras, the whispers… it all disappeared like smoke.
His kiss was gentle at first, almost careful, like he was testing the shape of her mouth, memorizing it, learning something he already seemed to know.
He shifted slightly, kissing her again from another angle, slower, deeper, drawing out the moment until her knees threatened to buckle beneath her gown.
Her fingers twitched, gripping the fabric of his suit as if Sasha needed something solid to hold onto.
The kiss lingered.
Too long for something meant to be polite.
Too long for something meant to be fake.
And then the warmth changed.
Ivan's arm tightened around her waist, pulling her closer, locking her into him with a strength that stole her breath. His lips pressed harder against mine, and her chest tightened as if her body finally realized what was happening.
The kiss wasn't just a kiss anymore.
It was a claim.
Sasha felt the faint brush of his tongue against her lips, teasing, testing, as if he was asking permission in the most dangerous way possible.
Her lips trembled.
Her mind screamed that people were watching.
That this wasn't private.
That this was wrong.
But her body betrayed her.
Her lips parted.
And Ivan took the invitation without hesitation.
Heat flooded her senses as his kiss deepened, no longer gentle, no longer careful, but intense enough to make her head spin. His tongue moved with practiced confidence, and her hands clutched him tighter, unable to stop herself from melting into the pull of him.
A small sound slipped from her throat before Sasha could swallow it back.
A quiet, broken moan.
Her face burned instantly, humiliation and pleasure mixing together until Sasha couldn't tell which one was stronger.
Ivan didn't pull away.
If anything, he kissed her harder.
Like he liked it.
Like he wanted to hear it again.
His mouth moved against mine with a hunger that made her heart slam wildly, and Sasha felt a sharp throb low in her stomach that startled her with its suddenness.
This wasn't supposed to happen.
This wasn't supposed to feel like temptation.
Sasha tried to pull back, just slightly, just enough to remind him that we were standing in front of an entire church.
But Ivan's arm tightened.
His hand moved to the back of her head, firm and controlling, holding her in place like he refused to let her escape.
Not yet.
Not until he was done.
The kiss grew rougher, deeper, almost consuming, and Sasha felt dizzy, drunk on the heat of him, on the taste of him, on the fact that he was kissing her as if he had been starving.
Her body went weak, her legs trembling beneath the heavy dress, and for a terrifying second, Sasha realized she might have collapsed if he wasn't holding her up.
Sasha hated herself for it.
And she loved him for it.
Because somewhere in the middle of that kiss, her heart whispered something dangerous.
He's mine now.
Not in the way love should be.
Not in the way dreams are meant to come true.
But in the way a stolen thing feels precious simply because it was stolen.
The thought filled her with warmth… until pain suddenly flashed across her lip.
A sharp sting.
Her eyes flew open.
Ivan had bitten her.
Not hard enough to injure her badly, but hard enough to make her breath hitch, hard enough to make her entire body shiver.
Sasha tasted something metallic.
Blood.
His tongue swept across her lower lip immediately, slow and deliberate, as if he was savoring the mark he had left behind.
Her stomach tightened.
Her mind went blank.
And before Sasha could even process the shock, he kissed her again, deeper, swallowing every thought Sasha had left.
A helpless sound escaped her.
Ivan's body shook slightly, and Sasha realized he was… laughing.
A quiet, low chuckle against her mouth, like he was enjoying the way Sasha was falling apart in his arms.
When he finally pulled away, it wasn't gentle.
It was reluctant.
Like he was forcing himself to stop.
Sasha stood there gasping, lips swollen, chest rising and falling too fast, her hands still gripping his suit like Sasha had forgotten how to let go.
Her eyes stung, not from sadness, but from the sheer intensity of what had just happened.
Sasha blinked rapidly, trying to steady herself, trying to breathe like a normal bride in front of normal guests.
Ivan looked at her like nothing had happened.
Like he hadn't just kissed her until her knees turned weak.
Like he hadn't bitten her.
Like he hadn't devoured her in front of the entire world.
His smile was soft, sweet, and innocent.
Too innocent.
It made her furious.
Her gaze flicked to his mouth, then to his eyes, accusing, breathless.
Ivan only smiled wider, as if her reaction amused him.
The silence lasted a heartbeat.
Then the church erupted.
Applause thundered through the hall, loud enough to shake the chandeliers. People laughed, cheered, and clapped harder, as if they had just been gifted an unexpected performance.
The cameras flashed again, rapid and relentless.
And Sasha realized, with a sinking feeling, that they weren't clapping because they were happy for us.
They were clapping because they were entertained.
Ivan slid his arm around her waist, pulling her close like Sasha belonged there, like Sasha was meant to stand beside him.
His fingers rested on her hip with quiet confidence.
Possession.
Control.
A message without words.
Sasha forced herself to smile at the crowd, even though her lips hurt, even though her cheeks burned, even though her heart was still racing like it wanted to tear itself out of her chest.
This was supposed to be the happiest day of her life.
At least… that was what everyone believed.
Ivan leaned closer, his mouth near her ear.
His breath brushed her skin, warm enough to make her tremble.
His voice dropped into something darker, something private.
"I can't wait for tonight," he whispered.
Her entire body stiffened.
A chill ran down her spine, sharp and electric, and Sasha couldn't even pretend to focus when someone stepped forward to congratulate us.
Their voice became meaningless noise.
Their words faded into the air.
Because all Sasha could hear was Ivan's whisper.
And all Sasha could think about was the way he had kissed her like he already owned her.
Like he was counting down the hours until he could prove it.