The air in the room was thick with the scent of sandalwood and my own racing heartbeat. The silk sheets beneath me were cool against my bare skin, a stark contrast to the fire igniting every nerve where Nikolas’s gaze raked over me. My wrists were bound to the headboard with a soft, crimson scarf—tight enough to hold me captive, loose enough to remind me I’d surrendered willingly. I lay there, vulnerable, exposed, my chest rising and falling with shallow breaths as his shadow loomed over me, a predator savoring his prey.

Ryan hovered above, his dark hair falling into his eyes, which burned with a hunger that made my pulse stutter. His hands, strong and deliberate, traced the curve of my waist, his touch both a promise and a threat. The heat of his body pressed closer, not quite touching, but near enough that I felt the electric charge between us. My skin prickled, aching for more, for him to close the unbearable distance.

“Never again,” he whispered, his voice rough with an edge of the wildness I’d seen in his eyes. It sent a delicious shiver down my spine, pooling heat low in my belly. His fingers brushed my cheek, possessive yet tender, as if he were memorizing every inch of me. “They will die a thousand deaths,” he murmured, almost gently, as his thumb traced the line of my jaw, “before they ever touch a single hair on your head again.”

His words were a vow, a dark oath that made my heart lurch with both fear and longing. The intensity in his gaze pinned me as surely as the scarf around my wrists. And then, with that deathly promise still echoing in my heart, he leaned down, his lips brushing the fluttering pulse at my throat. “I promise, Bella,” he breathed, his voice a low growl that vibrated through me, setting every nerve alight.

His mouth claimed mine then, fierce and unrelenting, like a storm breaking over a parched desert. I melted into him, my bound hands straining against the silk as I arched toward him, desperate to close the space between us. His hands framed my face, holding me as if I were the only thing tethering him to this world. The room fell away, the world reduced to the heat of his lips, the scrape of his stubble, the way his breath mingled with mine. My heart kept missing beats, my hands—uselessly bound—aching to pull him closer, to drown in him. I tasted him and realized I had been starving. I had loved before, but it didn’t feel like this. I had kissed before, but it didn’t burn me alive.

Maybe it lasted a minute, maybe an hour. All I knew was that kiss, the softness of his lips warring with the ferocity of his need, and the way his skin felt when it brushed against mine—electric, searing, alive. I had been waiting for this man forever, even if I hadn’t known it until now.

He pulled back just enough to look at me, his eyes dark and molten, his breath ragged. “You think you can leave me?” he said, his voice low, dangerous, like a blade wrapped in velvet. “I’d burn the world to ash before I let you go.” His fingers trailed down my throat, lingering where my pulse hammered, and I shivered under the weight of his words. “You’re mine, Bella. Every heartbeat, every breath.”

I should have been afraid of the possession in his voice, the raw edge of obsession that laced his words. But I wasn’t. Because he saw me—all of me. The parts I’d kept hidden, locked away behind walls built from years of rejection and fear. I’d always believed I was too much—too sensitive, too passionate, too everything. Not enough but at the same time With him, I was the fire, the light, the passion, the softness he’d been searching for. With him, I was safe to be all of me. With him, I was home.

He opened up the parts of me that I kept hidden away for so long, scared that if a man ever saw all of me he would reject and abandon me. Convinced that I was too much and not enough at the same time.

But as I slowly revealed myself to him he loved every single part. With each opening he showed me that there was never anything wrong with me. I wasn't unlovable, I had been choosing men that didn't have the capacity to love a deeply sensitive, feminine, empathic woman.

I wasn't too much for this man. I was the fire, the light, the passion, the softness he had been looking for and with him I was safe to be all of me. With him I was home.

He didn’t backoff . With every layer I revealed, he dove deeper, loving every jagged edge, every soft curve, every vulnerable piece of my soul. He showed me there was never anything wrong with me. I wasn’t unlovable—I’d just been choosing men who didn’t have the capacity to love a deeply sensitive, fiercely feminine, empathic woman.

His lips found mine again, slower this time, but no less intense. The kiss was a vow, a claim, a promise that seared itself into my bones. My body arched toward him, the silk bindings pulling taut as I strained to meet him, to merge with him. His hands roamed lower, igniting trails of fire across my skin, and I gasped against his mouth, lost in the storm of him.

“Bella,” he murmured against my lips, his voice a low rumble that made my toes curl. “You’re my everything.” And as his hands tightened on my hips, pulling me closer, I knew I’d never been more alive than I was in this moment, bound to him, heart and soul.