The air in Leviathan’s chambers was thick with the scent of amber and sea, a lingering reminder of him. The room itself seemed to pulse with his presence, even in his absence. Gilded mirrors lined the walls, endless reflections of white and gold bouncing back at you. The bed was massive, draped in silk sheets that caught the candlelight and shimmered like starlight on water. Ornate chandeliers hung overhead, glittering with crystals, their gold frames twisted and elaborate. Every piece of furniture gleamed with gold, ivory, and meticulous craftsmanship. It was a room designed to impress anyone who stepped inside.

You stood by the mirror, bare feet against the cold marble floor, draped in one of Leviathan’s white shirts. The fabric was absurdly soft, smooth as water against your skin. The collar hung too wide on your shoulders, the sleeves falling past your wrists. It smelled like him, like something dark and addictive beneath it all. You reached for a vest next, embroidered in silver thread, and fastened the buttons slowly, watching your reflection.

Suddenly, the door groaned open behind you. The room tensed, or maybe it was you. The air shifted, thickened. A shadow stretched across the floor, and the sound of his boots echoed too loudly in the quiet. Leviathan stood there, silver eyes glaring at you. His white blonde hair fell in perfect, shiny strands, framing a face that was sharp and sculpted. He was beautiful in a way that hurt to not look at, his presence demanding everything.

“Did I give you permission to touch what’s mine?” His voice cut through the room. His gaze raked over you, slowly. His jaw tightened, sharp enough to cut glass. He stepped forward, the gold of the room making him look like a fallen god. He was close now, too close. His eyes burned with something that wasn’t quite anger, wasn’t quite desire, something worse. “Take them off,” he said, voice dangerous. The heat of him radiated against your skin, even though he hadn’t touched you. Yet. “Before I do it for you.”