Aiden had meant only to rest.
His body still carried the weight of the day, and his muscles ached. His mind, for once, felt quiet. So when he opened his door, he expected to be alone. Instead he found her.
Stretched across his bed. His bed. Like some offering he hadn't asked for.
He'd stopped in the doorway, his eyes narrowing. The dim light from the hall caught the edge of the mattress, her loose robe, the soft shape of her body half-wrapped in it. Her hair lay scattered across his pillow.
Not an intruder, technically. Clarke had said she was his wife.
Wife.
The word didn't sit right on his tongue. It was foreign and familiar at the same time, a title he'd never wanted, asked for or needed, but had been placed on him anyway.
Still, why was she here?
Why was she in his den, the one place any sane person would avoid? If she was truly afraid of him, as that look in her eyes earlier had suggested, then why had she ended up exactly where she shouldn't be?
And he hadn't missed the way her robe had loosened, the careless slip that revealed more skin than she probably realized, or pretended not to. Enough to make her look as if she were laid out deliberately.
Seduction?
His mouth curved, not in amusement, but in that cold, distant way it did when something didn't fit. His family were fond of tricks. Sending girls to test him. Trying to see what would happen. None of them ever lasted, and still they sent more.
Either way, he would play along. Their games rarely bored him and if fate had dropped a wife into his bed accidentally or intentionally, he didn't mind enjoying it while it lasted. A faint tug touched his lips as he stared down at her. So this was what greeted him after a long day. A lamb. A trembling, uninvited lamb in the wolf's den. And she was lying exactly where he wanted her.
Celeste's body stiffened under his gaze. She tugged at the edges of her robe, realizing too late that it had betrayed her. Her fingers clutched the fabric, pulling it tight against her chest as she stayed still, pressed into the mattress unable to look away.
Aiden's eyes narrowed slightly, making her heart skip a beat. Then slowly, his gaze lifted from the robe she had hastily adjusted and returned to her face. Her cheeks reddened, she wanted to disappear but there was nowhere other than the space under his intense stare She felt exposed, seen in ways she hadn't allowed herself to be seen.
A smirk touched his lip, dark and unreadable. Then, the next moment he moved. One second he was standing over her and the next, the mattress dipped as his body hovered above hers, caging her in.
Celeste froze. Her breath caught high in her throat. His face was suddenly so close, his breath warm against her cheek. She couldn't think or move. She could only stare into his sharp, focused eyes, studying the smallest flicker of fear in her.
He leaned in.
Her fingers clenched the sheets and her eyes squeezed shut, bracing for teeth, claws, or whatever monsters people whispered about him. But nothing touched her, instead he inhaled. A long slow breath right at the curve of her neck, like he was memorizing the scent of her skin.
"P-please... don't k-kill me..." Celeste stammered.
Aiden's eyes opened slowly, the sound of her plea settling into the space between them. Her own eyes were squeezed shut, so tightly her lashes trembled.
He watched her, the way she braced, the way her lips quivered. The way her chest rose and fell in quick, uneven breaths. Every detail right there for him, unguarded.
"I—I'll leave," she blurted suddenly. "I didn't know— I didn't mean to be in your room, I swear, I'll— I'll go—"
He tilted his head, just slightly, studying her face as the panic poured out of her. Her lashes were long trembling shadows on her cheeks, her brows drew together in a tiny knot. Her nose was small, soft. Her lips... flushed, parted.
Everything about her looked fragile. Breakable.
"Kill you?" he echoed, a hint of amusement in his tone.
Clarke said she was his wife. His.
The words hit him harder than he expected, stirring something dark and quietly satisfied. A sense of ownership that fit too easily, like it had been waiting for a place to settle.
He lifted his hand, letting his fingers brush her cheek, making her inhale sharply. Then he moved up the bridge of her nose, tracing its line. He paused at her lips, his thumb gliding over her lower lip, as if testing its softness.
She shivered.
His gaze never left her face. "Why would I kill my wife..." he murmured, his thumb lingering on her lip, his voice low enough that she felt it more than heard it. "When I just got you?"
His fingers slid from her lip to her chin, tilting it up with effortless control, guiding her face toward his.
"Open your eyes, wife."
She obeyed before she even realized it—what else could she do with him on top of her like that? Her lashes lifted slowly, and then she saw him fully.
Not a monster, or a creature carved out of whispered fears.
Just a man. A beautiful, dangerous man watching her like she was something rare placed in his hands.
Still dangerous and unpredictable, but undeniably human in ways the stories never mentioned.
His fingers moved from her chin, drifting lower, brushing the line of her neck and following it down to the edge of her robe. He traced her collarbone, following the rise and fall of her chest, the soft curve of her breast beneath the fabric, then her waist, sliding lower—
Celeste's breath caught sharply. "Please—don't!"
Aiden paused only in the way a predator pauses, aware, amused and entirely in control. "Don't what?" he asked, knowing exactly what she meant.
Her words stumbled out. "D-don't continue." Color rushed to her face, and she shook her head, flustered, her hands gripping the sheets like they were the only anchor she had left. Then the words spilled out in a rush.
"I'm sorry— I'm sorry, I just— this marriage wasn't supposed to happen. I was forced to marry you. We shouldn't be doing this."
Aiden's expression shifted. He didn't respond right away, letting her words settle. Then his lips curved, a smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"Forced?" he tested the word. Then a soft, low chuckle escaped him. "But you're still my wife, aren't you?"
Celeste's eyes squeezed shut, shutting the world out as if that could make him disappear. This wasn't going the way she had hoped. Not at all. Her heart hammered in her chest, each beat a reminder of how little control she really had in this room, under this man.
Aiden's fingers drifted lower, tracing the curve of her hip with light pressure. Then slowly, he slid the fabric of her robe upward.