She walked slowly.
Toward him. Smirking.
When she was just inches from his body, she stopped. Looked up. Murmured, "Your men dared to interrupt me while I was cooking up a plot tonight. So I used them."
"Maybe because you're getting unnecessarily bold." His mouth curved. "Did you cut the communication?"
She rolled her eyes.
Then, without warning, his arms went around her back, jerking her body against his. Her face tilted upward.
"Why are you here?" he said quietly.
Nyasia looked at him, unsure if she liked being this close to him, right there on the portico of Viridian House.
"Not here."
He was silent for a moment.
Then released her.
"Let's go to your study—"
"Upstairs," he said, cutting her off. His voice was lazy, almost playful, a smirk tugging at his lips as he slipped his hands into his pockets and leaned back against the column.
"You—" She stopped, a flicker of irritation in her voice. But she had expected this. Coming to Viridian House like this had always been a dangerous decision.
Dorian watched the slow calm settle over her face. He smiled. "Smart choice. I was about to drag you up there myself."
Cherry, the steward, came.
"Your Grace?"
The other two turned to her.
"My lady, good evening."
"She's going upstairs."
Dorian's casual words made Cherry pause, as if weighing what the duke had just said. She glanced at the beautiful woman in the dark robe—Lady Rashet, a hood covering her head. Who wouldn't be captivated by such beauty? But surely His Grace could learn to wait after marriage?
When the women left, Dorian took a cigar from his pocket and began to puff. He didn't turn at the sound of approaching footsteps. It was Bern.
"Find out what's happening at Rashet Manor. Now."
"Yes, Your Grace."
...
THIS WAS THE first time Nyasia had ever walked into a man's bedroom. And the strangest part? She wasn't married. And she wasn't sneaking.
She stood at the foot of the bed and began to remove her dark robe, leaving only a strapless nightdress—when she heard the soft click of the door opening.
That agarwood scent.
It was him. Definitely.
She turned.
Watched him approach.
Slowly, she sat on the bed.
He slumped forward, as if kneeling before her. His arms wrapped around her waist, and he pressed his lips to the satin covering her belly.
Nyasia closed her eyes.
"I'm here because Father and Brother will never agree to my marrying you."
She understood why.
The Rashets had always stayed neutral. That was why her father and brother resisted so fiercely: they would never let her wed into the Varyn Duchy, a clan that headed a powerful political faction.
But she knew Dorian's nature. And the more she remembered of the past, the more she understood that choices shaped one's fate. But they did not change what a person was. Dorian would still destroy the Rashet Clan if pushed too far—if he could not have her.
"Don't you know that Brother was forced to marry a vicious woman just so he could gain enough power to stop you?"
"As if he could." Dorian's voice was a low growl against her belly.
"That's wrong," she murmured. "He should be able to."
But they both knew the truth. The Rashets couldn't stand against the Varyn Duchy, even if both belonged to the same eight great clans.
"But that doesn't mean," she said, her fingers trailing through his dark hair, making him lift his head, "that I'm your hostage, Dorian Alexei."
His body rose slightly, slouching over her with his hands braced on the bed, his arms caging her in. His obsidian eyes bore into hers, so close they blurred.
"Then what are you?"
She smiled. "A woman."
Then her hands circled behind his neck, pulling him down with her until their bodies sank into the bed.
"Take me," she breathed against his ear. "So that when they look at me later, they see a woman who already belongs to someone."
He stared at her for a while.
Then, without a word, he pulled down her nightgown while she watched him with unnerving calm. She closed her eyes as his lips began to graze her legs, parting them wide, his head sinking between them. Her body jerked, and her eyes squeezed shut.
Later, the walls seemed to hold only the sound of her moans, as her fingers dug into the back of his shoulders.
She opened her eyes.
Felt a warm cloth between her legs. Her face flushed when she realized he was cleaning her. She gripped his arm, making him glance up.
"I—I fell asleep?"
He sniffed, amused.
"I'm just that good."
She swallowed, blinking.
"Nothing happened?"
*