Chapter One Hundred Seventeen: The Claiming
The private rest area was a sanctuary of velvet and shadow.
Deep burgundy drapes framed tall windows that looked out over the glittering city. A chaise lounge upholstered in cream silk dominated the center of the room, its cushions soft and inviting. Soft lamplight cast golden pools across the floor, creating an intimate cocoon away from the noise and glitter of the gala.
She lay on her stomach across the chaise, her backless gown pooling around her like spilled wine. The burgundy silk had ridden up, exposing the elegant length of her legs, the delicate curve of her calves. Her bare feet were crossed at the ankles, her toes painted a soft rose that matched the blush on her cheeks.
Her back was a masterpiece.
The pale, luminous skin seemed to glow in the lamplight, catching the subtle shimmer of the gown's fabric. The delicate ridge of her spine traced a graceful path from the nape of her neck to the small of her back, where the gown dipped dangerously low. Two tiny dimples rested just above the curve of her hips—a detail I had kissed a thousand times in another life.
Her hair was loose now, the silver clip discarded on the table beside her. The dark waves spilled across her shoulders and down her back like liquid silk, catching the light and scattering it into a thousand tiny reflections.
She was scrolling through her phone, completely unaware of my presence.
I stood in the doorway, frozen.
The air left my lungs. My heart stopped. The world narrowed to a single point of impossible beauty.
She was breathtaking.
Not just beautiful-not just stunning. She was ethereal. A creature of moonlight and silk, so perfect she seemed almost unreal. The kind of beauty that made men forget their own names. The kind of beauty that destroyed empires and started wars.
She was mine.
And she didn't remember.
I couldn't stop myself.
I crossed the room slowly, my footsteps silent on the thick carpet. She didn't look up. Didn't sense my presence. She was lost in whatever world existed on that glowing screen, unaware that her entire future was walking toward her.
I stopped beside the chaise.
She still didn't notice.
I lowered myself to my knees beside her, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from her skin. The scent of her,jasmine and something sweeter, something that was uniquely her,
filled my senses like a drug.
She still didn't see me.
I leaned closer.
My lips brushed the bare skin of her shoulder
a featherlight touch, barely there. A breath. A whisper of contact.
She froze.
I felt the tension ripple through her body, the sudden awareness of a presence she hadn't expected. Her phone clattered to the floor.
"What!!"
I pressed another kiss to her shoulder, then another, trailing up the elegant column of her neck. Her scent flooded my senses, and I felt the last thread of my control begin to fray.
"Get off me!"
She scrambled to move, but I was faster. My hand pressed against the small of her back, holding her in place. Not hard. Just... present. A reminder that she couldn't escape.
"Let go of me!"
Her voice was sharp, furious, and utterly beautiful. She twisted beneath my hand, trying to push herself up, and the movement made her gown slip further, exposing more of that perfect pale skin.
"No."
The word came out rougher than I intended, more desperate. I leaned closer, my lips brushing the shell of her ear.
"I've had enough, Aira. Enough of watching you pretend. Enough of watching you with him. Enough of being patient."
"I said let go!" She thrashed beneath me, her elbow connecting with my ribs. It hurt,enough to make me grunt,but I didn't move. Couldn't move. "Rowan! Stop!"
"No."
She fought me.
God, she fought.
She twisted and kicked and tried to scratch my face. Her nails raked across my forearm, leaving thin red lines that would bruise by morning. Her elbow slammed into my chest. Her heel dug into my thigh with bruising force.
I didn't let go.
Couldn't.
She was magnificent in her fury,her eyes blazing, her cheeks flushed, her breath coming in sharp, furious gasps. She was a wild thing, a creature of fire and defiance, and I had never loved her more.
"Let me go!" she screamed, her voice cracking with rage. "I hate you! I hate you, Rowan! You're a monster! A liar! A...."
I kissed her.
Not gently.
Not tentatively.
This was a claiming. A branding. A declaration of war made with lips and teeth and desperate hunger.
She froze for one stunned moment, her body rigid beneath mine. Then she fought harder pushing, shoving, trying to turn her face away. I followed her, my lips never leaving hers, my hand tangling in her hair to hold her still.
"Stop," she gasped against my mouth. "Stop it, you..."
"Mine."
The word was a growl against her lips. "You're mine, Aira. You've always been mine. And I'm done pretending otherwise."
Her hand came up, palm flat against my chest, shoving with all her strength. I barely moved.
"Get away from me!"
The gown slipped further, exposing the curve of her shoulder, the delicate arch of her collarbone. The mole I had kissed a thousand times was visible at the hollow of her throat,a tiny mark that seemed to mock me.
I pressed my lips to it.
She shuddered.
"I hate you," she whispered, but her voice was trembling now. "I hate you so much."
"Good." I kissed the mole again, then trailed my lips up her throat to her jaw. "Hate me. Fight me. Push me away. I don't care. You're still mine."
She sobbed,an angry, frustrated sound that made my chest ache. Her hands were still pushing against me, but the strength was fading.
"The necklace," I said, my voice rough. "Take it off."
"What?"
"Take. It. Off."
She stared at me, her eyes wide and furious. But something in my expression must have reached her, because her hands moved to the clasp.
"Why?" she demanded, even as her fingers fumbled with it. "It was a gift from.."
"He doesn't get to mark you." I pulled the necklace free myself, the delicate chain snapping in my grip. It clattered to the floor, forgotten. "Only I get to mark you."
I reached for the gown.
She gasped, her hands flying to cover herself. "No...Rowan, don't..."
But I was already moving, my fingers finding the zipper, sliding it down with slow deliberation. The burgundy silk fell away, pooling around her hips, leaving her bare from the waist up.
She was beautiful.
So beautiful it hurt.
The pale skin of her back, the delicate line of her spine, the tiny dimples just above the curve of her hips. The scar,the one from the operation was visible just above the line of her gown, a thin white line that made my blood boil with rage.
"They cut you open," I whispered, my fingers tracing the scar. "They took our baby. They stole your memories. And they made you believe I was the monster."
She was trembling.
"Don't," she whispered. "Don't touch me. Don't!"
"I'm going to touch you." I pressed a kiss to her shoulder, then another, trailing down her spine. "I'm going to kiss every inch of you until you remember. Until your body recognizes what your mind has forgotten."
"I don't want this...."
"Your body wants it." I kissed the scar on her stomach, then the mole beside it. "Your body remembers me, Aira. It knows who I am. It knows who you are."
She was crying now,silent tears that tracked down her cheeks and disappeared into the velvet of the chaise. But she wasn't fighting anymore.
That was the moment I realized I had won.
Not because she stopped resisting.
Because she was trembling in my arms.
"I love you."
The words came out broken, desperate,a prayer and a confession and a plea all at once. "I know you don't believe me. I know you have every reason to hate me. But I love you, Aira. I've loved you since the moment I saw you. And I will spend the rest of my life proving it to you."
She sobbed.
I pulled her closer, pressing my forehead to hers, breathing the same air, sharing the same space.
"You're mine," I whispered. "You were always mine. And I'm never letting you go again."
She didn't agree.
Didn't soften.
But she didn't push me away either.
And that was enough.
For now.
The gown was ruined,torn and crumpled, lying in a heap on the floor. The necklace was somewhere beneath the chaise, forgotten and worthless. Her hair was a wild tangle, her lips swollen, her cheeks flushed with tears and something that might have been desire.
She looked like she had been claimed.
Because she had.
I reached for her chin, tilting her face up to meet my eyes. "You're coming with me tonight," I said. "Whether you want to or not. I'm taking you somewhere they'll never find you. Somewhere safe. Somewhere you can heal."
She shook her head weakly. "I can't! I won't!"
"You will." The words were a promise, not a threat. "Because you're mine, Aira. You've always been mine. And I'm done pretending otherwise."
The door opened behind us.
A gasp. A sharp intake of breath.
"Mr. Royce." Leo's voice was carefully neutral. "We have a problem. Julian Thorne is looking for her."
I didn't turn.
"Keep him busy."
"Boss"
"I said keep him busy."
The door closed.
I looked down at the woman in my arms ,my wife, my flower, my star and felt the weight of everything I was about to do settle onto my shoulders.
I was about to steal her.
Take her away from everything she knew.
Force her to face a truth she wasn't ready to accept.
But I had no choice.
Because the alternative,letting her go, letting her stay in that gilded cage, letting her forget forever,wasn't an option.
She was mine.
And I would burn the world to keep her.