Dominico’s POV
The morning air was thick with tension as I stood in the garden, trying to get a grip on myself. I had left the mansion hours ago, desperate for some space, needing to cool down after what had happened. But no matter how far I walked, I couldn’t escape the weight pressing down on me.
I rubbed my hands over my face, the memory of Nyx’s body against mine still vivid. Her scent still clung to me—that infuriating, intoxicating mix of cinnamon and vanilla. My fingers twitched with the ghost of the sensation—her skin, soft and pliant under my hands. I could still hear her broken pleas, the way she had looked up at me, her eyes filled with so much raw need. The way I had wanted it. The way my own body had responded.
I didn’t feel like myself around her. I had never lost control.
