Chapter 2: The Temptation of Defiance

Caspian did not retreat.

Men like him never did—not when they sensed a challenge worth bleeding for.

Instead, he held my gaze, searching for something in the measured calm of my expression. A lesser man might have taken my words as a warning. But Caspian D'Argent had never been wary of fire.

"Unravel me, then."

I had known he would say it. But it was the way he said it that intrigued me—the hushed defiance, the quiet plea woven into his arrogance, the way his gloved fingers curled at his sides, betraying the tension he tried so hard to mask.

Oh, he wanted it.

But he did not understand what he was asking for.

Not yet.

"You presume I find you worth the effort," I mused, tilting my head slightly.

His smirk was immediate, reflexive. "And yet, here we are."

A challenge.

An attempt to regain his footing.

I stepped closer, slow enough that he could feel the shift in power, the inevitability of my approach. He did not move away.

Good.

When I reached him, I did not touch him. I only let my presence settle around him, let him feel the deliberate restraint of my hands staying at my sides.

And still, I could sense his anticipation.

"Tell me, Lord D'Argent," I murmured, "do you think submission is a choice?"

A flicker of something—hesitation? Interest? Fear?

He recovered quickly. "Everything is a choice."

"Ah." I let the sound linger, light as silk. "Then you have much to learn."

His jaw tightened—just slightly. But it was enough.

I let the silence stretch between us, holding it like a blade. Then, just as he exhaled, as if to break the tension, I leaned in—only slightly, just enough for my breath to ghost the corner of his lips.

His body reacted before his mind did.

A sharp inhale. A stiffness in his stance, as though preparing to either retreat or surrender but uncertain which would be the greater weakness.

He wanted to move. But he would not—not unless I allowed him.

I had him now.

"You think you understand desire, Caspian." I let his name settle between us, deliberate, testing. His pupils dilated at the sound of it. "But tell me… when was the last time you truly wanted something and were denied?"

A muscle tensed in his jaw.

He had no answer.

Because no one had ever made him wait.

No one had ever taken their time with him.

Until now.

"You will learn patience," I said, brushing past him without another word.

I did not turn back.

I did not need to.

Because I could feel it—his stare burning into my back, the weight of it heavy with something raw and unspoken.

Caspian D'Argent had never been denied.

But tonight, I had given him something far more dangerous.

A reason to crave.

And it would destroy him.