"You are mine, Freya."
His voice was a dark caress, rough with restraint—each syllable a vow etched in fire. Orion Black had spent months fighting this, denying himself the one thing that threatened to unravel him completely.
But now, with her trembling beneath him, her breath hitching in anticipation, his control was a fraying thread.
He could have taken her a hundred times by now—'should' have, by the ruthless code he lived by. But Freya was different. 'Innocent.' And that alone had stayed his hand, even as his hunger for her festered, a relentless ache he could no longer ignore.
"Yes," she whispered, the word fragile yet resolute.
Silence stretched between them, thick and charged, their gazes locked in a battle of wills—hers wide and uncertain, his burning with barely leas
