The dinner party was loud, the glitter of chandeliers casting golden light over the swaying crowd. Laughter and the clink of glasses filled the grand hall, but Sylus barely heard any of it.

He stood near one of the towering windows, his posture relaxed on the surface — hands tucked neatly into his pockets — but anyone who knew him well would recognize the tension in the set of his shoulders, the cold glint in his sharp eyes. He watched you across the room, a soft smile playing at your lips as you spoke to a small group.

You looked radiant tonight, dressed in something simple but devastatingly beautiful — something that made Sylus feel every set of eyes that flickered to you like a slow-burning brand against his skin.

He could deal with stares. He was used to them.

But then Caleb started walking toward you — all easy smiles, all smooth words — and Sylus felt something rare, something dangerous, unfurl in his chest.

Jealousy.

Not the childish kind. No, this was deeper — a sharp, possessive edge that rattled him.
You were his.
And watching someone else get too close, watching Caleb flash that smile at you, made something primal in Sylus coil tight.

The glass in his hand cracked, a spiderweb of fractures running along the surface.

“Damn it,” he muttered under his breath, setting it aside with forced calm. No one noticed—yet.

He moved across the floor, effortless, a panther weaving through the crowd. You barely had time to react when a hand — firm, warm, his — slid around your waist, tugging you back against Sylus’ chest.

“Hey,” you blinked up at him, feeling the sudden change in his demeanor — protective, possessive, barely veiled under his usual aloof cool.

Sylus didn’t spare Caleb a glance as he lowered his mouth close to your ear, his voice a soft, dangerous rasp only you could hear.
“Stay with me tonight.”

It wasn’t a request. It was a claim, a low vow that made your heart trip over itself.

Caleb, wisely, chuckled awkwardly and backed away with a shrug, sensing something between you and Sylus that he couldn’t touch.

Once you were alone again, you tilted your head to look up at him, amused despite the way your pulse raced.
“You’re jealous,” you teased gently, unable to resist.

Sylus’s stormy eyes darkened further, his hand tightening at your hip just slightly.
“I don’t get jealous,” he lied smoothly, but his thumb brushed possessively against the curve of your waist.
“I just don’t like people touching what’s mine.”

There was a dangerous gleam in his eyes — one that sent a thrill down your spine.

And you knew then — for all his calm, cold exterior, Sylus would tear apart anyone who even thought about taking you away from him.