Page 21 of Claimed In Darkness

I feel the way Naira stiffens, the way her breath quickens ever so slightly. She’s not afraid.

No, fear isn’t in her nature. But she’s aware.

Aware of the hungry gazes drinking her in. The way the Dark Elf lords and their courtiers watch her with undisguised interest.

They know what she is supposed to be. What I want them to believe.

I keep my hand firmly on her waist, my grip possessive, territorial.

She doesn’t fight it as this is the game we must play.

I lead her through the crowd, past velvet cushions where slaves lounge like decorations, past dark corners where whispered deals and cruel indulgences unfold.

A noble approaches, his eyes sweeping over Naira with a gaze that lingers too long.

“Zephiran,” he drawls, sipping from a goblet of deep red wine. “It’s been too long.”

I smirk. “Has it?”

His gaze drags over Naira, slow and indulgent.

Displeasure spreads in my heart.

“She’s exquisite,” he muses. “May I?”

Naira goes rigid.

I keep my expression neutral, unreadable.

The noble reaches for her—too bold, too confident.

I move without thinking.

My hand snaps out, catching his wrist in a vice grip.

The room stills.

Naira sucks in a breath.

I don’t speak for a moment—just let the tension stretch, let him feel the seriousness of his mistake.

I lean in, my voice a low, lethal whisper.

“Touch what is mine again,” I murmur, “and I will break every bone in your little hand.”

The noble laughs, uneasy.

But I see the flash of fear in his eyes.

Good.

He steps back, raising his hands in mock surrender. “I meant no offense.”

I smile, slow and vicious. “Then none is taken.”

He disappears into the crowd.

I turn to Naira, her eyes scorching with something unreadable.

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