Page 131 of Daughter of the Serpent

Yet just as quickly, her ingrained metal barriers were quick to snap to the surface, putting her back in her place.

She should step back.

Should look away.

Should deny him.

But her body - traitorous, aching - leaned closer.

His eyes darkened at her response, a wicked thrill unfurling in her chest at the way he looked at her - like she was something to be claimed, devoured.

And then - he moved.

His hands claimed her hips, firm and possessive, as he drew her against him, turning her until her back met the solid wall of his chest. Suddenly, there was nowhere to escape - there was onlyhim. His heat, his scent, his raw strength pressed against her softness.

A shudder raked through her before she could stop it.

“There is nothing more natural than this.” His lips brushed her ear, his breath warm, seductive, sending a trail of fire along her skin. “Nothing more alive, then you and I now - here, in this moment.”

She didn’t dare move. Didn’t dare think.

There was only his voice. His touch.

His fingers skimmed lower, pressing just enough to make her pulse stutter, to make her breath falter.

Then the drums began. A deep, primal beat surged through the air, stirring the night into something alive and wild. His grip tightened at her waist, fingers flexing, commanding. With a slow, deliberate pull, he guided her hips into motion, molding her body against his in time with the music.

She resisted at first, every muscle ridgid with uncertainty. But then he leaned in, his chest a solid wall steady behind her, his breath a whisper of heat against her.

"Sylvie," Her name was honey on his lips, rich and molten. "Let go."

The words seeped into her skin, curling around her thoughts like a spell, igniting something reckless inside her.

Could she surrender to this? To him?

Slowly, he loosened his hold, stepping back just enough to give her space. But his eyes never wavered, tracking her every movement, every breath - silent, steady, waiting.

He was testing her, waiting to see if she would push him away - or pull him closer.

Always giving her a choice.

If she were within the temple walls, shrouded in duty, untouched by the heat of his gaze, she would easily know the answer.

She would fight it.

She would turn away.

It was what any servant of the light would do.

What the temple would demand of her.

What duty, expectation - the world itself - insisted was right.

And yet…

For the first time, she saw it - felt it.

Maybe she could make a choice that was all her own.

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