The obsession tethering their resolve, the fuel for their unyielding desire. Restraint shattered like fragile glass, all thanks to that liquor. In the cold hush of December, your name echoed in their minds, silencing reason. Protecting you from any malice in this world was their mission, but now, nothing mattered more than the intoxicating pull of your presence. They would rather taste your wine-stained lips than indulge in that bittersweet liquor.

Sylus tightened his hold around your waist, his scarlet eyes alight with mischief. He could see it all—the unspoken hunger clawing at Zayne’s restraint, the torment lingering in Xavier’s fleeting hesitations, and the simmering jealousy burning in Rafayel’s eyes.

“Trembling, kitten?” Sylus murmured, his breath warm against your ear as he pulled you in his lap, chest pressed against your back. “Cold? Or something else?”

Zayne’s sharp hazel-green eyes followed every move, his tone clinical but smoldering. “She’s flushed. Feverish.” His hand rested on your thigh, fingertips trailing upward. “I should examine you. Thoroughly.”

Rafayel knelt at your feet, lips grazing your thigh, his dusky purple hair brushing your skin. “Cold, Ms. Bodyguard? Let me warm you. Or perhaps…” His fingers slid higher, his smile wicked. “…you’ll let me heat you up?”

Xavier knelt beside him, his darkened blue eyes locking onto yours. “A hug won’t do,” he murmured, his hands steady on your hips. “I want everything.”

Rivalry forgotten, their shared need for you bound them in a way nothing else could. Tonight, in this mansion, they’d become each other’s danger just for the chance to claim you.