Page 51 of Ruthless Royalty

“You think I don’t see it?” I continue, my voice soft, dangerous as I let go of her hand and slide mine to her throat. “The way you try to pretend you don’t give a shit? The way you keep everyone at arm’s length because you’re too fucking scared to let anyone in?”

Her body tenses, and I can feel the rage building inside her, the anger she’s been trying to hold back threatening to explode. But she doesn’t move, doesn’t try to break free. Instead, she stays frozen in my arms, her breathing ragged, her eyes locked on mine.

“You don’t know anything about me,” she whispers, but there’s no strength behind her words.

“I know enough,” I reply, my grip on her neck tightening. “Iknow you’re terrified of what’s happening between us, because it means letting go of control. And you hate that. You hate the idea of being vulnerable, of letting someone else in—of lettingmein.”

She stares up at me, her eyes wide, searching mine for something. An answer, a reason, anything that will make this easier. But there’s nothing. Just the cold, hard truth staring her in the face.

“You’re scared,” I say, my voice dropping to a whisper. “But you don’t have to be.”

She closes her eyes, her breath hitching. I can feel her trembling, the fight slowly draining out of her, and I know I’m close—so fucking close to breaking through that wall she’s built around herself.

But then she pushes against my chest, and the fire in her eyes is back, burning hotter than ever. Her chest heaving as she tries to catch her breath.

“This is fucked up, even for you.”

I smirk, leaning in closer until our faces are inches apart. “Debatable. But I told you I’m not playing around anymore.”

She struggles again, trying to push me away, but I don’t let her. Instead, I pin her to the ground with my body, my hands on either side of her head.

“You’re mine now,” I whisper, my voice dripping with possessiveness. “Just admit you belong to me.”

Her eyes blaze with anger, and she spits at me, her defiance flaring up again. “I don’t belong to anyone, especially not you.”

I grin, wiping the spit from my cheek, not the least bit fazed by her outburst. But then, slowly, deliberately, I lift my hand to my mouth, licking the spit off my skin without breaking eye contact. The taste of her defiance is sharp on my tongue, and it only fuels the dark satisfaction coursing through me.

Her eyes widen, and I see the exact moment when her angergives way to something else. Her pupils blow out, and I can practically feel the tension between us ratchet up another notch.

I grin, a slow, wicked smile that I know will get under her skin even more.

“Oh,Kitten,“ I murmur, my voice low and taunting, “you can deny it all you want, but we both know the truth. You don’t belong to anyone—yet. But it’s only a matter of time before you realize just how much you want to.”

Her breath hitches, the anger still there, but now mixed with something else. She’s caught off guard, her confidence shaken, and it’s written all over her face. I can see the way her body reacts, the subtle shift in her stance, the way her eyes darken.

“Still think you don’t belong to me,Micetta?” I murmur, my voice dripping with taunt and promise.

She opens her mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. Her bravado is crumbling, just like I knew it would, and now all that’s left is that raw, unfiltered reaction that I crave.

I lean in, watching as her breath hitches, her gaze flicking down to my mouth before snapping back up to meet my eyes. She’s trying so hard to hold on to that defiance, but I can see it slipping through her fingers.

“Say it again,” I dare her, my voice low. “Say you don’t belong to me.”

She swallows hard, her lips parting as if she’s about to speak, but all she does is stare at me, caught in this twisted game we’ve been playing. I reach out, brushing my thumb across her lower lip, feeling the way she shudders at the contact.

“You can’t, can you?” I whisper, leaning in until our faces are just inches apart.

“Go to hell, Giovanni,” she breathes, betraying the uncertainty she’s trying so hard to hide.

I brush my lips against her ear as I whisper, “I’ll see you there, baby, and when you finally give in … you’ll be begging to stay.”

Before she can respond, I crash my lips against hers, my kisshard and demanding, like I’m trying to claim her with every stroke of my tongue. She resists at first, her hands pushing against my chest, but I can feel the moment she starts to give in, the moment her anger starts to melt into something else—something darker, more primal.

She bites my lip, hard enough to draw blood, but I just growl in response, my hand tangling in the back of her hair as I kiss her deeper, harder. She tastes like defiance and fire, and it only makes me want her more.

It’s a battle, a clash of wills as we fight for control. I taste blood, but I don’t care. It only spurs me on, the pain mixing with the pleasure in a way that’s intoxicating.

But then, just as suddenly as it started, she shoves me away, hard, breaking the kiss and glaring up at me with fury in her eyes.

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