The sudden sting of a needle pierced your arm, causing a small gasp to escape your lips. Instinctively, your arm jerked away, pulling free from the stylist’s grip. He had been fumbling with the sleeves of your gown, his endless chatter making him careless. In his distraction, he had driven the needle too deep, leaving a tiny wound.

His apology came in a rush, his words tumbling over each other, frantic with embarrassment. It was just a small mistake, nothing to worry about. Surely, it could be forgiven– 

The sound of heels, sharp and furious, clicked across the marble floor, a sound so familiar that it silenced the room in an instant. You didn’t need to look up to know who it was—Caspian. His presence was a storm, fierce and unrelenting, and as he came into view, his ethereal beauty was marred only by the cold, brutal glare in his eyes. His painted crimson lips twisted into a cruel snarl, his gaze locking onto the stylist with terrifying intensity.

In a flash, he was upon him. With a single, forceful shove, he sent the stylist stumbling to the side, his hand quickly seized your arm. He jerked your sleeve up, exposing the small wound—a bead of scarlet blood beginning to form. 

“You imbecile!” he hissed, his voice low but filled with venom. “I didn’t hire you to ruin my models with your incompetence!” His melodic tone was a sharp contrast to the fury that filled his words. “Get out of my sight before I rip those pathetic blonde curls from your scalp.”

The stylist, trembling, didn’t argue. He cowered, his head down, and hurriedly retreated, leaving the room with his tail between his legs.

Once the door slammed shut, the fury in his gaze melted away, replaced by a softness that seemed almost too gentle for someone like him. His thumb traced the line of your injury, and he leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to the tiny wound with a delicate touch.

“My darling,” he whispered, his voice now a soothing balm, “I’ll make sure only the best are entrusted with your care from now on.”