Chapter 7 : The Game Begins

Celeste woke in silence. Alistair's gray eyes remained closed, his breathing steady, and his arm still wrapped tightly around her waist, leaving no room to move. But Celeste knew one thing: this man never truly slept deeply.

She observed his face in the dim morning light. Alistair looked peaceful, but Celeste knew how dangerous he was. There was no gentleness in his gaze or his touch—only control, only the desire to own everything, including her.

Taking a slow breath, she steadied the storm raging inside her. She couldn't be reckless. One wrong move would only tighten the chains of Alistair's obsession around her.

She had to play smart.

Slowly, she relaxed in his hold, as if surrendering. She had to make Alistair believe she was no longer resisting. That she was beginning to submit.

Her hand moved carefully, tracing his arm with a soft touch. She could feel the strength in every fiber of his muscles, a chilling reminder that this man could break her at any moment.

But Celeste would not let that happen.

Suddenly, Alistair shifted. His eyes snapped open, locking onto hers in an intimidating trap. A faint smirk curved his lips—the smirk of a man who knew he was in complete control.

"Couldn't sleep?" His voice was deep and husky.

Celeste held her breath. She had to be careful.

"You're getting used to me, aren't you?" Alistair continued, his fingers tracing her arm with a deceptive gentleness that contradicted the ever-present danger in his touch.

Celeste knew this was a test.

If she showed fear, Alistair would enjoy it. If she fought back, he would only push harder.

So she did the opposite of what her instincts told her.

She smiled—just a little. "Maybe."

Alistair studied her for a long moment, as if analyzing her every subtle movement. Then, he let out a low chuckle. "Clever girl."

Celeste's heart dropped.

Alistair pulled her closer, pressing a soft, dangerous kiss to her temple. "But I'm not so easily fooled, sweetheart."

Celeste held her breath.

Alistair knew.

And this game had just become even more dangerous.

Celeste could feel every breath Alistair exhaled against the nape of her neck. Close, suffocating, like an invisible noose tightening around her. He hadn't moved away, still holding his position, as if savoring the tension thickening between them.

Celeste knew one thing: Alistair was not easily deceived.

But she also knew something else.

If she wanted to survive, she had to be smarter than this man.

"Why are you so quiet?" Alistair's voice was low, laced with something Celeste couldn't quite decipher. His fingers traced over her skin again—slow, deliberate—a silent reminder of who held control here.

Celeste swallowed hard, willing her heart to steady. She couldn't let her nerves show. She couldn't expose her weakness.

"There's no reason to speak."

Alistair was silent for a moment, then his lips curled into a small smirk. "You're learning."

Celeste nearly exhaled in relief—until, without warning, Alistair rolled over, effortlessly flipping her beneath him. His sharp gaze bore into her, scanning her face as if searching for the lies she might be hiding.

"But I know you're lying."

Celeste's heart stopped.

Alistair leaned in closer, letting his breath ghost against her cheek. "I can see it in your eyes."

She held her breath but refused to look away. She had to stay strong.

His smirk widened. "I like a challenge."

His fingers trailed along her jaw, then down to her throat, pausing there as if reveling in the rapid pulse beneath his touch.

"But you should remember one thing, Celeste," he murmured, his voice a dangerous whisper. "No one deceives Alistair Hawthorne and walks away unscathed."

That quiet threat sent chills down her spine.

And as Alistair pulled her back into his embrace, forcing her to remain within his hold, Celeste came to a realization that made her even more cautious.

If she wanted to win this game, she had to play it better than the king himself.

Seconds passed like the blade of a knife slowly slicing through Celeste's skin. Alistair was still watching her intently, as if he could read every thought crossing her mind.

She couldn't waver.

Celeste held her breath as he lifted her chin with the tip of his finger. A light touch, yet brimming with control. Those gray eyes locked onto hers, searching for cracks, for weakness.

"You know, Celeste..." Alistair's voice was low, almost a whisper. "I could destroy you right now if I wanted to."

Her heartbeat quickened, but her face remained impassive. She couldn't show fear. Not in front of this man.

Alistair's lips curled into a small smile, as if savoring her controlled reaction. "But I'd much rather watch you struggle. It's far more entertaining for me."

Celeste wanted to respond, to say something, but she knew better than to speak.

He traced his knuckles along her cheek. "You tried to deceive me, didn't you?"

She remained silent.

"You wanted me to believe you were beginning to accept me."

A soft chuckle escaped his lips, his breath ghosting over her skin. "I have to admit, you almost succeeded."

Almost.

That single word made Celeste tense.

Alistair leaned in closer, their faces now mere inches apart. "But I'm smarter than you, sweetheart."

Celeste swallowed hard.

"I'll give you a choice," he murmured against her ear, his voice deceptively gentle, yet laced with an unspoken threat. "You can either surrender to me… or I'll make sure you never think of defying me again."

Her body went rigid.

Alistair's fingers trailed along her jawline. "The choice is yours, Celeste."

But Celeste knew…

There was never really a choice.

Because in this game, Alistair was always the one who won.