Malric’s Pov
The dining table was unusually quiet — just the soft clinking of utensils, the muffled scrape of plates. But beneath the silence, my head was chaos.
It’s been two days since… that night.
Two days since I had Delilah trembling beneath my touch, gasping my name like she belonged to me. And f**k, even now… I could still smell her. That sweet, wet heat clinging to my senses, teasing me like a curse.
I should never have touched her.
I don’t want anyone. I’ve never wanted anyone. People want me, they always have. I don’t chase. I don’t bend. But Delilah…
She’s different. She’s trouble wrapped in soft skin and defiance, and the more I try to ignore her, the more I want to ruin her.
And I hate that.
I sat at the head of the table, trying to appear as cold and untouchable as e
