This continued for a moment longer—Zyren's silence, Aira's defiance—until finally, he moved. A single step forward, then another, until his entire body was flush with hers. She could feel the brush of his clothing, the coolness of his skin, the quiet promise of domination that lingered in his breath.
Their skin touched.
"I'm not sure you understand what belonging to me means," he said, voice low and biting. Then, without pause, he lowered his head—too close, too sudden—and Aira realized far too late that he intended to kiss her.
She moved to pull back, to flinch away like she always did. But this time, she froze. Her breath stilled in her throat. She felt his lips press firmly on hers—not harsh, not demanding, but claiming. It was a simple kiss, one that demanded nothing in return, and when he pulled away the very next moment, he didn't gloat. He only looked directly into her eyes.
"Okay," he said simply.
