BLOOD IN SILK

She hadn't spoken to him in hours.

Cassian had left after the kiss, jaw tight and eyes darker than she'd ever seen them. And yet, somehow, he still brought her dinner — laid it out on the table like she was a guest, not a captive.

Alina didn't touch the food.

She sat curled on the edge of the couch, arms wrapped around her knees, watching him from under her lashes like he was a puzzle she couldn't decide whether to solve or destroy.

He didn't sit. Just stood across the room in silence, pouring himself a drink — something dark and expensive — and refusing to look at her.

"You really think this is how protection works?" she said finally, voice quiet but sharp. "You lock someone away, kiss them like you hate them, then feed them like a pet?"

Cassian's eyes flicked toward her — unreadable.

She tilted her head, mocking. "No reply? That's not like you, Cassian. Usually, you're full of silence with sharp edges."

He set the glass down too hard. The sound cracked through the warehouse like a warning.

But she wasn't done.

"You know what I think?" she whispered, rising to her feet and walking toward him. "You don't want to protect me. You want to own me."

Cassian turned slowly.

His voice, when it came, was quiet. "Is that what you want me to do?"

She stopped right in front of him. Close enough to see the tension in his jaw, the fire barely held back in his eyes.

"No," she said. "But maybe I want to see how far I can push you."

Cassian moved fast.

He grabbed her wrist again — not harsh, not gentle — and pulled her into him. "You think this is a game?"

"Aren't we both playing?"

His hands were on her waist now, holding her in place. Her breath caught, not in fear — in expectation. Her heart thudded like it remembered something her mind refused to admit.

He leaned down, his voice rough in her ear.

"I've killed men for less than the way you look at me."

She smiled darkly. "Then why haven't you killed me?"

His answer was a sound — low, guttural — half a growl, half a curse.

And then his mouth was on hers again — nothing sweet, nothing gentle. Just hunger.

His kiss was fire and war. She kissed him back harder.

Buttons tore. Fabric slid. Their mouths barely broke contact long enough to breathe.

He lifted her — like she weighed nothing — and carried her across the warehouse, through the hallway behind the main room. She didn't ask where they were going. She didn't care.

The bedroom was simple — concrete, low light, cold sheets.

He dropped her onto them and hovered above her, breathing hard.

One last chance to stop it.

But Alina didn't flinch.

She reached for him, eyes burning. "Don't you dare stop."

Cassian's control shattered.

Clothes vanished. Skin met skin. He kissed her like he needed to erase every trace of anyone who came before him. She let him. She wanted him to.

It wasn't soft. It wasn't slow.

It was desperate. Hungry. Real.

His hands mapped her body like he already knew it, like he'd dreamed of it in the dead of night and now couldn't believe it was real.

She met him with the same fire — nails in his back, teeth on his shoulder, breathless moans that sounded like surrender.

"Don't stop, faster." Alina moaned in his ear which make Cassian go more wild on her. He stops for a while to see if she's fine with it but when he say her enjoying, he restart again.

Time blurred. Words became gasps. The silence between them broke into something deeper — the kind that came only when masks were gone.

And when it was over — when the storm passed and the only sound was their breath, tangled and spent — Cassian didn't move.

He just looked at her, something wild and dangerous still flickering behind his eyes.

Alina rolled onto her side to face him.

"I don't regret it," he said softly, daring her to.

She didn't say anything, just keep staring at him.

And for the first time, there was no war between them.

Just the fire they both had stopped trying to fight.