Chapter 3 A kiss with teeth

I woke to the sound of footsteps.

Not outside my room-inside it.

My body moved before my brain caught up, grabbing the lamp from the nightstand. The moment I flicked on the light, I nearly launched it across the room.

He stood by the window, completely still, his back to me.

"What the hell are you doing in here?" I snapped, voice still thick with sleep.

He didn't turn around. "There was a break-in attempt. North side of the estate. I came to check you were still breathing."

My heart thumped. "And you couldn't knock?"

"I don't knock when people's lives are on the line."

He finally turned, and in the faint light, I saw something unguarded in his expression. Something like... concern. But only for a flicker.

"I'm fine," I muttered, lowering the lamp. "You can go back to pretending I don't exist now."

His gaze raked over me.

White tank top. Loose shorts. Bare feet.

I wasn't sure if the heat I felt in the air was fury or something else.

"You should lock your balcony doors," he said quietly.

I crossed my arms. "Then how would you sneak in next time?"

That earned me a smirk.

"I told you," he said, "I don't sneak."

Then he left.

And I hated how long it took my pulse to return to normal.

She should've been afraid.

Any other woman would've been.

But Aurora stood there-half-asleep, weapon in hand, ready to throw fists before questions.

She didn't shake. She didn't flinch.

She was fire in fragile skin.

And somehow, I was the one who walked away feeling scorched.

The Next Morning

The estate was locked down. Armed men patrolled the grounds. The intruder hadn't breached the walls, but they'd left something behind.

A symbol.

A single red rose, dipped in blood, nailed to the northern gate.

I recognized it immediately.

The Scarlatti family.

Enemies from another lifetime. And if they were resurfacing now-it meant someone had betrayed us from inside.

Luciano hadn't spoken to me all morning.

Not until I wandered into the atrium and saw the rose.

"What is that?" I asked, moving closer before he stepped in front of me.

"Don't," he snapped.

I frowned. "You're hiding something."

"I'm protecting you."

"By keeping me blind?"

He exhaled, jaw tight. "That rose is a message. Someone's testing the perimeter. It's not a coincidence it came days after we got married."

I crossed my arms. "So I'm a target now?"

"You've always been one. Now you're just easier to find."

The words chilled me.

Not because they were cruel.

Because they were true.

She demanded answers, and I gave them.

Not because I owed her.

Because I knew she'd chase the truth anyway-and better it came from me than the enemy's bullet.

Still, she surprised me.

Instead of panicking, she asked questions. Instead of hiding, she stepped closer.

"You need to teach me," she said suddenly.

I raised an eyebrow. "Teach you what?"

"How to survive in your world."

My jaw clenched. "You wouldn't survive one night on my side of it."

She lifted her chin. "Try me."

God help me-I wanted to.

Not just to train her.

But to touch her. Claim her. Taste the fire she carried.

Instead, I walked away.

Because if I ever touched her...

I wouldn't stop.

That Night

I found her in the training room.

Wearing leggings, a sports bra, and a look that dared the world to try her.

She'd stolen a knife from the weapons rack.

Was practicing footwork, clumsy but determined.

"You'll cut yourself," I said.

"I'll heal."

I walked to her, took the blade gently, and replaced it with another-lighter, balanced.

Then I moved behind her.

Placed my hands on her hips.

Guided her stance.

"You fight with your whole body," I murmured. "Every movement means something. No wasted energy. No wasted emotion."

Her breath hitched.

I felt it.

So did I.

The moment was charged-dangerous.

And when I reached around to adjust her grip, my chest brushed her back.

She didn't move.

Neither did I.

"Why are you helping me?" she whispered.

"Because I don't want to bury another woman I care about."

She turned then-slow, deliberate.

Our faces were inches apart.

"This thing between us," she said, "what is it?"

I stared at her mouth.

"Toxic," I whispered.

And then I kissed her.

Hard.

The world fell away.

His lips were bruising and hungry, like he'd waited years to taste sin and finally gave in.

I kissed him back.

Because I wanted to forget who we were. Because for one second, the fire felt better than the silence.

But then,

He pulled away.

Too fast. Too cold.

"This doesn't change anything," he said.

And just like that, the wall slammed back down.

But his lips still burned on mine.

And my heart?

It was already a battlefield.