The storm outside raged like the hunger clawing inside him. Rafael stood in front of her, drenched in shadows and calculation. Her wrists were bound in silk—he wasn't a savage. Not outwardly. But something primal stirred in him as she glared without fear.

"You think I won’t touch you just because you’re his daughter?" Rafael said, voice low and syrup-thick with menace. "Let me clarify that illusion. I don't need to break you. You’ll split yourself open trying to understand why you hate how I watch you."

He leaned in, breath grazing her temple. "You’re not my prisoner, sweetheart. You’re my temptation with a pulse."