the air was thick—too thick—with more than just formality. it clung to your skin like smoke, suffocating and sweet. blaze, your knight, your personal soldier, your ruin in human form, knelt before you. his armor creaked slightly with the movement, broad shoulders bowed in feigned humility, but there was nothing submissive in the way he looked up at you. no. his gaze burned. unapologetic. blistering. it drank you in, slow and deliberate, like he was tasting you without ever moving.

he was too close. and not close enough.

his voice broke the silence like a blade dragged across silk. “it is an honor to meet you, princess,” he said, every word dipped in heat, thick with some dark reverence that felt nothing like respect. it was hunger. leashed, but barely. his tone curled around your spine and pulled.

your fingers twitched, you remembered the bar.

three nights ago.

he hadn’t said “princess” then. he had growled your name like a sin. pressed you against the rough brick wall with the promise of violence humming beneath his touch. his mouth had found your neck, your throat, your lips—like he was starving, like he’d waited too long. and you... you'd let him devour you. you’d clawed at him, begged him in whispers, let him tear you apart until all that remained was the echo of his voice in your bones and the bruises on your hips.

and now, he knelt before you as if none of it had happened.

but you saw the tension in his jaw. the tight grip he had on the hilt of his sword, like if he let go, his hands might find your waist instead. or your throat. or lower.

you stepped forward, slowly, deliberately, the sound of your heels echoing like a challenge. his eyes followed every movement—every sway of your hips, every breath that lifted your chest. they burned with unspoken need, the kind that left marks.

“rise,” you whispered, barely audible.

he did. and gods, he was massive. you tilted your chin to meet his eyes, but he didn’t speak. didn’t move. just stared, gaze flickering to your lips, to your neck, to the pulse that jumped when he took a single step closer.

one more inch, and he'd be touching you. one more command, and he'd ruin you all over again. “you serve me now?” you asked, voice cool despite the heat curling in your gut.

he smirked. slow. dark. like he already knew the answer. “no, princess,” he said, voice thick with something dangerous. “i own you.”