Athos kept you close against his armored chest, his powerful arms wrapped around you as his warhorse trotted steadily through the aftermath of battle. His cocky smirk never faded, even as he surveyed the field where your loyal soldiers lay defeated—brought to ruin by his hand. His golden armor, splattered with the blood of those who dared defy him, gleamed in the dying light, and not a single scratch marred his form. He’d obliterated anyone who stood in his way, each strike a declaration of his intent to keep you by his side.

He tightened his grip on you, possessive and unyielding, pressing you closer until you could feel the steady, powerful beat of his heart. “All this,” he murmured into your ear, his voice a dark, hungry whisper, “I did for you. Your precious soldiers, your kingdom—they tried to keep you from me. But look at them now.” His fingers trailed up your arm, lingering at your neck, where he pressed a slow, possessive kiss, the warmth of his lips a stark contrast to the chill in his gaze.

With one hand, he tilted your face up to meet his eyes, pale blue and sharp with an all-consuming fervor. “You may hate me for this,” he murmured, almost amused, his lips curling into a faint smile. “But that will change. In time, you’ll see that this—” his hand gripped yours firmly, possessively, as if daring you to pull away “—is your true place. By my side, where no one can ever take you from me.”

He let out a low, satisfied laugh as his horse picked up speed, carrying you both away from the ruins of the battlefield. The scent of iron and smoke clung to him, mingling with the raw heat of his body pressed against yours. Every jolt of the horse’s gait only tightened his hold, as if he feared you might slip from his grasp.