You are mine
Lukyan watched her go.
Watched the way her spine remained rigid, the way she climbed those stairs like a queen refusing to let herself be dragged to the gallows.
But she had already lost.
Because she obeyed.
She could pretend it was just a game, another round of their endless battle, but the truth was written in every sharp breath she took.
She wanted this fight as much as he did.
And he was going to make her admit it.
---
He waited.
Stood at the bottom of the staircase, hands in his pockets, heart pounding too damn hard.
She had two choices.
Come back down to him.
Or lock herself away and pretend nothing had happened.
The seconds stretched.
Then—soft footsteps.
And Larissa descended.
Not in a different dress.
Not in anything meant for another man's eyes.
Just her.
Her dark hair loose over her shoulders. Her makeup wiped clean. Wearing only a simple silk slip that barely reached mid-thigh.
His jaw tensed.
He should say something. Should remind her that this had started as a challenge, not an invitation.
But then she met his gaze.
And the moment shattered.
Because she wasn't fighting him anymore.
She was waiting.
Lukyan felt something shift inside him—something dangerous.
He moved before he could stop himself. Closing the distance.
Larissa's breath hitched. But she didn't pull away.
Not when his hand reached for her waist.
Not when his fingers skimmed her jaw.
Not when he tilted her chin up—forcing her to look at him.
"You were never going to leave tonight," he murmured.
Her lips parted, but no words came.
Because they both knew the truth now.
She had wanted him to stop her.
She had wanted this.
So he took it.
Lukyan leaned in, his lips barely brushing hers—
And then, she was the one who closed the gap.
---
(Larissa's POV)
Larissa should stop this.
She should pull away before it was too late.
But she had been running for eight years.
And Lukyan had finally caught her.
Her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, her breath mixing with his. His hands were everywhere—skimming over her waist, gripping her hips, tilting her head back as if he was devouring every part of her.
It wasn't soft.
It wasn't gentle.
It was everything they had spent years pretending they didn't want.
By the time he backed her against the wall, she was burning.
His lips traced down her jaw, his breath ragged against her skin.
"Tell me to stop," he murmured.
She should.
She should say the words.
But instead, her fingers dug into his shoulders, pulling him closer.
And Lukyan understood.
Because the next thing she knew, he was lifting her into his arms—taking them somewhere neither of them could come back from.
---
Lukyan was losing control.
And for the first time in his life, he didn't care.
He carried her to the bedroom—not hers, not his. Theirs.
Because after tonight?
There would be no more separate rooms.
No more running.
No more contract.
He dropped her onto the bed, eyes locked onto hers, waiting for that one last second where she could take it all back.
But she didn't.
She just reached for him, pulling him down like she had been starving for this just as long as he had.
And then?
Then he made damn sure she never wanted to leave again.
---
Morning came too soon.
Larissa lay still, staring at the ceiling, her body tangled in silk sheets—his sheets.
Lukyan was still asleep beside her, one arm heavy across her waist, his breathing steady.
She should move.
She should slip out of bed, go back to her own room, pretend this never happened.
But she didn't.
Because for the first time in eight years, she didn't feel like she was alone.
And that was the most dangerous thing of all.
---
She had been a fool.
Because the moment she stepped into the shower, the moment the warmth of his body was no longer wrapped around her, reality crashed down.
She had broken the contract.
She had broken herself.
All these years, she had played by the rules—because the rules kept her safe.
But now?
Now, she had given in to the one thing she swore she wouldn't.
And worse?
Lukyan had won.
---
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