Seraphine’s knees hit the carpet, and the air shifted—dense with lust, charged with something ancient and aching.
She couldn’t see him, not with the ribbon still tied around her eyes. But she felt him.
Valen’s presence was molten, predatory, circling her like a storm about to strike. Her breath caught as the tip of his boot nudged her knee, widening her stance. The heat of his body radiated toward her in waves, until she could almost taste it—smoke, blood, and forbidden things.
"You look divine like this, "he murmured. " Blind. On your knees. Obedient."
Seraphine’s lips parted, heart galloping behind her ribs. " Then take me."
Valen growled low in his throat, primal and hungry. A hand wove into her hair—firm, possessive—tugging her head back just enough to bare her throat. She gasped
