Bound by Lust

Esme's breath caught as she stood frozen, her wrist still trapped in Kael's grip. It wasn't forceful this time—his touch was lighter, almost as if he was testing her reaction. But it held the same unshakable dominance, the same quiet command that made it impossible to ignore him.

Her pulse pounded.

She hated this. Hated how, despite every logical reason to despise him, Kael always managed to unnerve her. To make her forget, even for a moment, why she was supposed to hate him in the first place.

"Let go," she said, but her voice lacked its usual bite.

Kael didn't move. His gaze searched hers, dark and unreadable, as if he was considering something.

And then, without a word, he released her.

Esme took a step back, wrapping her arms around herself. She should feel relieved, but the absence of his touch sent an odd chill through her.

For a moment, the silence stretched between them, thick with tension.

Kael exhaled slowly, shoving a hand into his pocket. His expression was carefully neutral, but something about the way he stood—his shoulders tense, his jaw tight—told her he was far from unaffected.

"You wanted my attention, Esme," he said finally, his voice quiet, steady. "Now you have it."

Esme blinked.

He was watching her, waiting.

Waiting for what?

For her to break first? For her to admit she wanted something from him?

Her pride burned at the thought.

"I don't want your attention," she lied. "I just want you to stop treating me like I don't exist."

Kael let out a low scoff, shaking his head. "You don't want my attention," he repeated, amusement flickering in his dark eyes. "Yet you were willing to kiss my guard just to provoke me."

Esme's jaw clenched.

"I only did that because you—" She stopped herself, realizing she was about to sound like a desperate woman seeking validation.

She wasn't going to give him that.

She lifted her chin instead. "You're insufferable," she muttered, turning on her heel and heading toward the stairs.

She didn't get far.

Kael was suddenly there, moving faster than she expected, his fingers wrapping around her arm as he pulled her back with ease. She let out a sharp gasp as she collided with his chest.

He leaned in, close enough that she could feel the heat of his breath against her ear.

"You're right, Esme," he murmured, his voice like a slow-burning fire. "This is a contract marriage. But that doesn't mean I'll let you do whatever the hell you want."

Esme swallowed hard, her heart hammering against her ribs.

His words should have infuriated her.

But it was the way he said it—the quiet warning in his tone, the possessiveness laced beneath the cold exterior—that sent a dangerous thrill through her veins.

She pushed against his chest, glaring up at him. "You don't get to control me, Kael."

Kael smirked. "Oh, sweetheart," he drawled, his fingers brushing against the curve of her jaw, just for a second. "You have no idea how wrong you are."

Esme's breath hitched.

For a moment, they just stood there, locked in a silent battle of wills.

Then, just as quickly as he had grabbed her, Kael let go, stepping back as if nothing had happened.

"Get some rest," he said, turning away. "You're exhausting when you're angry."

Esme watched him leave, her fists clenched at her sides.

She hated him.

She hated how he always had the last word.

But most of all, she hated the way her heart was still racing long after he was gone.

****. ****. ****.