PRINCE OF SIN

Chapter 3

The word prize echoed in the small room, stripping away the last of my dignity. I wasn’t a person to him. I wasn’t a woman with a life, a degree, or a future. I was a currency. A payment for a sin I hadn’t committed.

“I am not a piece of property,” I gasped, my voice trembling. I tried to push against his chest, but it was like trying to move a mountain of granite. He didn’t even budge; he simply looked down at me, his expression one of amused detachment.

“In the eyes of the House of Valerius, everything is property,” Julian replied. “Land, gold, lives. Your father traded your future for a decade of prestige and a library of forbidden knowledge. He signed the contract in blood, Penelope. He gave you to me before you even knew I existed.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Believe what you wish,” he murmured, his hand moving from the wall to my throat.

He didn’t squeeze, not yet. He simply rested his gloved thumb against my carotid artery, feeling the frantic, galloping rhythm of my heart. The leather was cold, but the pressure was a promise. He leaned closer, his eyes searching mine, scanning for the exact moment my resolve broke.

“Your heart is lying to you,” he whispered. “You’re terrified. But you’re also starving. I can feel it. You’ve spent your whole life in the gray, Penelope. And now that the darkness has finally found you… you don’t want it to leave.”

“You’re insane,” I breathed, though my head was swimming.

The proximity was suffocating. The scent of him, that intoxicating mix of sandalwood and something metallic, was filling my lungs, clouding my judgment. I hated him. I hated the way he had broken into my home, the way he looked at me like I was a feast, the way he had erased my autonomy with a single sentence.

And yet, I found myself leaning into him. It was an instinctive, traitorous movement, a pull toward the danger that felt more honest than anything I had ever known.

Julian noticed. A dark, predatory glint ignited in his eyes.

“That’s it,” he hissed. “Show me how much you hate me.”

He didn’t ask. He didn’t hesitate. He crashed his lips against mine in a kiss that wasn’t a request. It was a conquest.

It was violent and hungry, a collision of teeth and desperation. It tasted of iron and obsession. He didn’t kiss me with tenderness; he kissed me as if he were trying to devour my very soul, claiming every inch of my mouth as his own territory.

I let out a muffled sob, my hands clutching the lapels of his coat, unsure if I was trying to pull him closer or push him away. The world around me dissolved, the peeling wallpaper, the dusty books, the fear, leaving only the sensation of his hard body pressing me into the wall and the searing heat of his mouth.

The contrast was dizzying, the cold leather of his gloves now gripping my waist, bruising my skin, while his lips burned like a brand. It was a kiss that felt like a fall from a great height, a terrifying plunge into a void where there was no air, only him.

When he finally pulled back, he didn’t go far. He remained inches away, his breathing heavy, his eyes obsidian and blown wide. A thin trail of saliva connected us for a fleeting second before it broke.

I was shaking, my lips swollen and tingling, my mind a fractured mess of horror and longing.

Julian reached up, his thumb grazing my lower lip, pulling it down slightly. His expression had shifted from amusement to something far more dangerous, a raw, possessive hunger that made me feel like I was being hunted in real time.

“You are mine, Penelope,” he whispered, his voice a low, guttural growl. “Not because of a contract. Not because of your father. But because I have decided that you are the only thing in this wretched world worth owning.”

He stepped back, the sudden absence of his heat leaving me cold and shivering. He tossed the journal onto my bed with a careless flick of his wrist.

“Get your things,” he commanded, his voice returning to that cold, velvet authority. “We leave for the estate at dawn. If you try to run, I won’t be this gentle next time.”

He turned and walked toward the window, disappearing into the night as silently as he had arrived, leaving me alone in the silence of my room, branded by a kiss that felt like a death sentence.