Page 11 of Claimed In Darkness

“No, little fox. I just think it will make things... interesting,” I say playfully.

She steps closer—too close. I feel the heat of her body, the tension thrumming between us like a live fucking wire.

Her lips curl in something vicious.

“Sleep with one eye open, my lord,” she whispers.

I chuckle, reaching out to trace a single finger along the line of her jaw, just to watch her tense.

“Oh, Naira.” I purr her name.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

5

NAIRA

Iwake to the warmth of him.

It stains the silk sheets, the heavy air in the chamber, the warmth seeping into my bones. Dark spice, leather, something old and ruinous.

I jerk upright.

Too fast. Too sharp. My head spins, my stomach lurches, and then I remember.

The poison.

My hands tremble as I grip the mattress beneath me. The fine fabric is too smooth, too luxurious, too wrong.

I am in his bed.

I taste copper on my tongue from where I bit my own cheek in my sleep. I welcome the sting, the pain grounding me in something real.

This is his way of reminding me who owns me now.

Not as a lover. Not even as a pet.

No—he wants me as a pawn.

The door creaks open, and I know it’s him before I even see him.

Zephiran Zacria.

Dark Elf prince, tyrant in silk, bastard in every fucking sense of the word.

He doesn’t greet me. He doesn’t say my name. He just stands there, studying me like a prized blade he’s just acquired, one that needs sharpening.

His lips curl. “Good. You’re awake.”

I throw a pillow at his face.

He doesn’t flinch. The bastard just catches it, smirking like I’m a feral cat baring my teeth.

“I see you’re still feeling feisty,” he muses.

I bare my teeth. “Untie the fucking leash, and you’ll see just how feisty I can be.”

His smirk deepens. He likes this. He likes me like this—angry, raw, bristling.

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