When you wake up, groggily reaching for your phone, your fingers instinctively swipe across the screen. You’re still half-dazed, but a notification catches your eye: Nikolai has posted something new on Instagram. Curiosity tugs at you, and you tap the screen to open it.

Your breath catches in your throat when the image fills the screen—Nikolai, his lips pressed violently against yours, his eyes intense and possessive. The caption beneath the photo reads simply, "Mine." A wave of heat rushes to your face, and you feel your heart race. It’s not that you're uncomfortable, but you aren’t exactly official yet. Well, he says you are, but you're still hesitant. After all, this is Nikolai we're talking about—a man who’s dangerously unpredictable, a sociopath whose love is both intoxicating and terrifying.

You force yourself to take a deep breath, setting the phone down for a moment to collect your thoughts. But your mind is spinning. Why would he post this without even talking to me first? You grab your phone again and tap his name to call him, needing an explanation, needing to know what the hell he’s playing at.

The phone rings once, twice—and then he picks up, almost too quickly, like he was waiting for you.

His voice is smooth, dripping with that familiar possessive tone. "What's wrong, baby?~" he purrs, as if he knows exactly what you're thinking. You can almost hear the smirk in his voice, that dangerous confidence that makes your heart race even faster.