Ariana watched from the balcony, her heart caught in a vice as Brandon disappeared into the crowd below.
The two men she'd seen earlier still loitered near the entrance, but their attention was no longer casual. They moved with purpose now, weaving through the haze of bodies toward the back corridors.
Toward Brandon.
Every nerve in Ariana's body screamed for her to move, to do something. But what could she do?
She was just a girl in a black dress and heels, standing in the lion's den.
Minutes stretched, each second sharpening her fear into a razor.
Then the club's thumping music shifted—barely perceptible, but enough to set the hair on her arms rising. People in the crowd started to part, sensing the shift in energy without knowing why.
She caught a glimpse of Brandon.
He wasn't running.
He wasn't hiding.
He was hunting.
He moved through the club like a living nightmare—danger wrapped in tailored black and sin.
Ariana gripped the railing so tightly her knuckles whitened.
Then chaos erupted.
Brandon reached one of the men first, slamming him into a column so hard Ariana swore she heard bones snap.
The man crumpled like a doll.
The second man tried to run, but Brandon was faster. He dragged the coward down by the back of his jacket, landing brutal blows to his ribs, his face—barely controlled rage pouring out of him in every strike.
The crowd started to back away, creating a wide circle around them.
Some watched with sick fascination.
Some with fear.
Ariana couldn't look away.
Brandon leaned down, gripping the second man's jaw in a steel-like grip. His words didn't carry over the music, but whatever he said made the man go deathly pale before nodding frantically.
Satisfied, Brandon shoved him down, kicking him once for good measure before straightening.
His eyes found hers instantly.
Even across the distance, Ariana felt the heat of that gaze sear into her bones.
He was asking her something.
Daring her.
Do you still want me?
Now that you've seen what I really am?
Ariana didn't move. Didn't look away.
She stood there, trembling but unbroken, staring back at him.
Something savage flickered across Brandon's face. He wiped the blood from his knuckles with a cloth a nearby guard handed him, then made his way back up the stairs toward her.
Each step he climbed felt like a countdown to something inevitable.
When he reached the top, he didn't speak.
He didn't need to.
He grabbed her face between his blood-streaked hands and kissed her—hard, brutal, claiming.
The taste of copper lingered on his lips.
Ariana whimpered against him, the dark hunger she'd tried so hard to deny roaring to life.
"You see me now," he rasped against her mouth. "All of me."
She nodded, too breathless to speak.
"And you're still here," he growled.
His hands slid down her body, gripping her hips with bruising force.
She should be disgusted.
She should be afraid.
But all she felt was alive.
He spun her toward the wall beside the balcony entrance, pressing her back against it. His body caged her in, a wall of heat and danger.
"You don't know what you do to me," he whispered, voice raw with need.
He nipped at her jaw, dragged his teeth down her neck, marking her again and again.
Ariana gasped, arching into him.
He hiked her leg up around his waist, grinding the hard length of him against her throbbing core.
"This is what you make me," he said. "A monster. A man who would tear down the world just to keep you."
She moaned, her body betraying her, slick and aching.
"Say it," he demanded, dark eyes burning into hers. "Say you're mine."
"I'm yours," she whispered, tears stinging her eyes.
He kissed her fiercely, as if sealing the vow between them.
Without warning, he hooked his hands beneath her thighs, lifting her effortlessly.
Ariana clung to him, wrapping her arms around his neck, pressing her mouth desperately to his.
He carried her through the crowd as if she weighed nothing, ignoring the stares, the whispers.
She was his prize. His possession.
His queen.
Back in a private room, Brandon kicked the door shut behind them, not even bothering with the lights.
Only the silver glow of the city through the window illuminated the room.
He pinned her against the wall, ripping the delicate straps of her dress with one brutal tug.
"Mine," he growled again, dragging his mouth down her throat to the swell of her breasts.
Ariana cried out, her nails digging into his shoulders, lost in the overwhelming pleasure-pain.
He didn't bother undressing completely.
He simply shoved her panties aside and freed himself, pressing the thick head of his cock against her entrance.
"Tell me to stop," he whispered raggedly against her ear. "Tell me now, and I'll let you go."
But she didn't.
She couldn't.
Instead, she pulled him closer, whispering one broken word:
"Please."
Brandon groaned, a low, animalistic sound.
And then he thrust into her—hard, deep, claiming her all over again.
Ariana screamed, clutching at him, overwhelmed by the force of him inside her.
He filled her so completely it was almost painful, but she didn't want him to stop.
She wanted him to ruin her.
He set a brutal pace, fucking her against the wall with savage precision.
Every thrust pushed her higher, shattering pieces of her sanity until all that remained was him—his scent, his heat, his ownership.
"Look at me," he ordered, fisting her hair to force her gaze to his.
She obeyed, drowning in the dark oceans of his eyes.
"I love you," he rasped. "In a way no one else ever will. You are mine, Ariana. Always."
Tears spilled down her cheeks, but she didn't look away.
"I love you," she choked out, because it was the terrifying truth.
His entire body shuddered against her.
And then they were falling—crashing over the edge together.
Ariana clung to him as pleasure detonated through her like a supernova, Brandon groaning her name against her throat as he emptied himself deep inside her.
They stayed like that for a long moment, trembling and panting, the room spinning around them.
Finally, Brandon eased her down, cradling her against his chest.
"You're mine," he murmured again, kissing the top of her head. "And nothing in this world or the next will ever take you from me."
Ariana closed her eyes, letting herself believe it.
Because if she didn't—if she thought about the danger creeping closer, about the enemies they couldn't see yet—she might break.
For tonight, she was his.
He was hers.
And together, they were unstoppable.