The moment Alessio's lips claimed hers, Elena knew.
There was no escaping this.
No escaping him.
She had fought. She had resisted. She had told herself that she hated him, that she would never belong to him.
But in the end, she had begged.
Begged.
And now?
He owned her.
Her breath hitched as he devoured her, his kiss rough and possessive, his hands gripping her body as if he was staking his claim.
Not just on her flesh.
But on everything.
Her mind.
Her soul.
Her very existence.
Alessio growled against her lips, and the sound sent a violent shudder through her.
Because it wasn't just desire she felt.
It was fear.
Not of him.
But of herself.
Of what she had become.
She should have felt disgusted.
She should have felt shame.
But instead—she only wanted more.
Elena's fingers fisted in his hair, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss, giving herself to him completely.
Alessio let out a dark, satisfied chuckle against her lips.
"Finally," he murmured.
As if this was always how it was meant to be.
As if she was always meant to be his.
Elena's heart pounded in her chest.
This was wrong.
This was twisted.
But it was too late.
She had already fallen.
And Alessio?
He would never let her go.