Our freedom would be bought in blood and darkness.
The last echoes of deathly silence shattered under the weight of something primal, something insatiable.Amir turned to me, his dark eyes alight with a hunger that hadn’t been there before.Power rippled off him in waves, a force both intoxicating and dangerous.I was still drowning in the aftershock of his resurgence when he stepped closer, erasing the space between us with a predatory grace.
“Elizabeth,” he murmured, his voice a low, velvety rasp that slid over my skin like silk and steel.“Your aid is… invaluable.”
Before I could respond, his lips crashed against mine, searing, consuming, a kiss that decimated the hesitation and left only raw, aching need.It was not tender.It was possession—fierce, unrelenting.His fingers tangled in my hair, tightening just enough to steal my breath, to make my pulse hammer with something wicked.He tasted of dark promises and whispered sins, of power barely leashed beneath the surface.
I melted into him, my hands clutching the fabric of his shirt as if it could anchor me against the storm of his desire.He pressed me back until I was trapped between him and the cold stone wall, his body a furnace of heat against mine.Every shift and movement sent sparks racing across my skin, stoking the smoldering fire between us.
I wanted more.More of his darkness, control, and touch’s dangerous allure.But with a gasp, I forced myself to break away, my lips ghosting over his in a lingering tease before I spoke.
“I’m going to release you and?—”
Amir pulled back quickly, his grip on my arms firm and unrelenting yet not cruel.The air between us cracked with something heavy, something unspoken.
“No,” he commanded, his voice low and final, laced with a force that struck like a blow.That single word sent a tremor through me, igniting something deep and primal.His voice had once rallied armies—a sound that allowed no rebuttal.
His gaze locked onto mine, dark and demanding.
“You can’t release me,” he continued, his tone measured but edged with a quiet ferocity.“I will stay here.I will pretend I am still broken.”His fingers ghosted over my pulse, his touch both a caress and a warning.“You will go to my men.Tell them what happened.They will believe you.Tell them to surround the building.They must be anywhere and everywhere.They will blend in.”
A dark smirk curved his lips, the barest flicker of amusement breaking through the calculated coldness.“I will come to the masquerade.You can be certain of this.”
His hands slid down my arms, teasing, possessive, before settling at my waist.His grip was light—deceptively so—but there was no mistaking the control in his touch.
“Put poison in their food and drink,” he murmured, his voice a dark caress against my ear.“But be careful, my love.I couldn’t bear it if harm came to you.”
The warning shivered through me, a stark reminder of our fine line.The stakes were high; every detail of our plan was crucial to its success.One wrong move, one misstep, and we would be the ones to fall.
Amir’s hands lingered at my sides, grounding me.“Stay away from Mathias,” he added, his tone dropping lower.“Women are his weakness.We must ensure this ball is filled with other beautiful women to distract him.He likes to play with them.”
His words were strategic, but beneath them lay something unspoken.Perhaps concern, or simply the calculated care of a man who knew that misdirection was key to survival.
Then, almost imperceptibly, his expression softened.“Although none will be as captivating as you, my love.”
The warmth in his voice was fleeting, quickly replaced by the cold focus of a man prepared for war.
“Stay as Lord Winston’s obedient betrothed.”
The weight of it settled over me.We were stepping into something irreversible, weaving a web of deception that, if tangled, could be the death of us both.The walls of this society were closing in, and we had only one chance to bring them down from within.
I swallowed, steadying myself before I met his gaze.“Amir,” I whispered, my voice hushed.“There’s one thing I still need from you.”
His eyes darkened slightly, assessing me, reading the unwavering determination behind my words.
“I need your blood to complete the poison.”
The request lingered between us like a whispered oath, a dark covenant binding us in ways neither dared to name.He didn’t flinch, didn’t hesitate.Instead, he extended his arm with practiced grace, the flickering torchlight casting jagged shadows across the lines of his face.
My pulse quickened.
I glanced around the dim dungeon, my breath shallow, until my gaze landed on a jagged shard of stone jutting from the crumbling wall—crude but lethal enough.
I wrenched it free, the rough edges scraping against my palm.The sting barely registered.My focus was locked on him, on the unwavering trust in his gaze and the quiet dominance in the way he watched me—waiting.
The cold, unyielding stone pressed against his skin as I dragged it down in a shallow cut.His breath hitched.A single, ragged intake—so brief it was almost imperceptible—but I felt the tension that coiled in the air between us.
Crimson welled against his swarthy complexion, blooming in a slow, hypnotic trickle.
