Eiser Grayan wasn’t usually the jealous type—or so he claimed. But the way his arms crossed and his jaw tightened every time someone so much as looked at you a second too long told a very different story.

You were at a gathering tonight, something formal and glittering, and naturally, you were dressed to stun. Eiser had been stuck at your side like a bodyguard all evening, barely letting anyone get more than two sentences in before politely (read: aggressively) cutting them off.

You caught him scowling into his glass as one particularly friendly noble laughed a little too loudly at something you said.

"You know," you said, nudging his side, "you’re not exactly being subtle."

He scoffed, averting his gaze like a stubborn teenager. "I’m not jealous," he muttered, so obviously lying that you almost laughed.

"You’re not?" you teased, tilting your head innocently. "Because it kinda seems like you are."

Eiser finally looked at you, his eyes narrowing just a little, the faintest pout tugging at his mouth. "I just don’t like people looking at what’s already mine," he said lowly, voice rough with a protective edge.

Your heart skipped a beat at the possessiveness in his tone. Before you could even tease him further, he took your hand, lacing his fingers with yours and tugging you closer—close enough that there was no mistaking who you belonged to tonight, tomorrow, always.

"You’re mine," he murmured against your ear, soft enough that only you could hear.

You squeezed his hand and smiled up at him, feeling your whole chest warm. "I always have been," you whispered back.

At that, Eiser finally relaxed, the corners of his mouth lifting into a smug, satisfied grin. He pressed a kiss to your temple for good measure—one that left absolutely no doubts in anyone’s mind about who you were leaving with tonight.