The flickering torchlight casts shadows across Mattheo’s features, his dark eyes locked onto yours with a heat that sends a shiver down your spine.

He leans in, close enough that you can feel his breath ghosting over your skin. "You know," he murmurs, voice slow, deliberate, "I could hurt you."

You don’t flinch. Instead, a smirk tugs at your lips as you tilt your head slightly. "Not without VoIdemort’s permission, I bet."

His jaw tenses, and for a moment, there’s silence. Then, a deep, almost sinful chuckle escapes him. "You’ve got a sharp tongue, darling."

You step closer, deliberately brushing against him as you look up through your lashes. "And you like it."

His fingers twitch at his sides, and you don’t miss the way his eyes flicker down to your lips. "Careful," he warns. "You’re playing with fire."

You reach up, lazily tracing a fingertip along the collar of his shirt. "Funny," you whisper, "I don’t feel burned yet."

Mattheo lets out a breath, something between a laugh and a growl. Then, in one swift movement, he has you caged against the stone wall, his hands bracing on either side of your head. His lips hover just over yours.

"You keep tempting me, princess, and I might just forget who I’m supposed to be loyal to."

"Then what are you waiting for?" you whisper.

His lips curl into a smirk. You can see the wicked gleam in his eyes. "You really want to find out?"