Chapter 8 You Will Bend

Lyra's POV

My heart was still racing long after Leo walked out of my room, leaving me breathless and shaken. His words wouldn't stop echoing in my mind.

"You belong to me now."

I hated the way my body still burned from his touch, the way my pulse still pounded, as if his presence lingered long after he was gone.

What the hell is happening to me?

I needed air. Space. Anything that would stop the pull he had on me.

I grabbed my jacket and slipped out of my room, my footsteps quiet against the dark hardwood floors. The house was silent, but not the peaceful kind. It was the kind of silence that pressed down on you, made you feel watched even when you were alone.

Because here, I was never alone.

Leo was everywhere. His presence saturated this house, inescapable, his name carved into every wall, every corner. And worst of all, he was in my head, making it impossible to think straight.

I need to get out of here.

The air outside was sharp and cool against my heated skin, but it wasn't enough to steady the pounding in my chest. The estate stretched endlessly before me: a sprawling labyrinth of perfectly trimmed hedges and stone pathways, illuminated only by the dim glow of lanterns lining the walkways.

I wandered deeper into the garden, my hands trembling as I tried to process what had just happened.

Leo Weston was dangerous. He wasn't just a man who demanded power,he was power. It bled from him in every word, every movement, in the way the very air seemed to shift when he was near.

And he had his sights set on me.

I let out a shaky breath, wrapping my arms around myself.

Why me?

I was just a nanny. A woman trying to do her job, trying to survive. But Leo looked at me like I was something more: like I was something he was entitled to, something he wasn't willing to let slip away.

And the most terrifying part?

Some dark, hidden part of me wanted him to want me.

I hated myself for it.

For the way my skin burned under his gaze.

For the way my breath hitched when he spoke in that low, commanding tone.

For the way I wanted,needed,to know what it would feel like to completely give in to him.

I closed my eyes, shaking my head. No. I couldn't let this happen.

I needed to get a grip.

But then I heard it.

Footsteps.

Slow, steady, deliberate.

A chill ran down my spine, but it wasn't fear. It was something worse.

It was anticipation.

I knew it was him before I even turned around.

Leo.

His presence wrapped around me like a slow-moving storm: dangerous, inevitable. He didn't have to say a word. I could feel him.

I forced myself to stay still, my pulse hammering against my ribs.

"You shouldn't be out here alone," he said, his voice smooth, controlled. But beneath it, I could hear something else. Something possessive.

I inhaled deeply, keeping my back to him. "I needed air."

Silence.

Then, the sound of his slow, measured steps closing the distance between us.

He was toying with me. Testing how close he could get before I broke.

I felt him stop just behind me, the heat of his body brushing my back.

"You think distance will help?" he murmured.

My breath caught.

God help me, I don't know.

"I think I need space," I said, forcing my voice to remain steady.

His chuckle was dark, almost amused. "Space from what, exactly?"

I clenched my fists. "From this. From whatever game you think you're playing."

His fingers brushed against my arm, and I sucked in a sharp breath.

"I don't play games, Lyra," he murmured. "When I want something, I take it."

I turned then, forcing myself to meet his gaze.

His dark eyes burned with something raw, something dangerous.

"You can't just take me," I said, my voice uneven. "I'm not one of your possessions, Leo."

His lips curved into something almost predatory. "Not yet."

I swallowed hard. "You don't own me."

He reached out, his fingers tracing the curve of my jaw with agonizing slowness. "I claim what's mine, Lyra." His thumb brushed my lower lip, and I nearly gasped at the sensation. "And I don't share."

I hated how my body reacted to him.

Hated the way I shivered under his touch.

Hated the way I wanted to push closer instead of stepping away.

I forced myself to move, to shake my head. "This is insane," I whispered. "I don't even understand why you're so fixated on me."

His expression darkened slightly, his fingers slipping to my throat, his grip light but commanding.

"Because you walked into my world like you belonged in it," he said, his voice like a slow caress. "Because you look at me like you know exactly what I am and still refuse to bend."

His grip tightened slightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to make my heart race.

"You will bend, Lyra," he murmured, his lips inches from mine.

I exhaled shakily. "You're insane."

His smirk deepened. "You'll learn to love it."

Then, without warning, he kissed me.

But this time, it was different.

This wasn't the desperate, bruising heat of before.

It was slow. Calculated.

A dangerous, intoxicating seduction.

His lips teased mine, brushing, lingering, letting me feel the full weight of his control before deepening it: before claiming me in a way that sent fire through my veins.

I whimpered against his mouth, my fingers clutching his shirt, my resolve slipping with every second that passed.

His hand slid to my lower back, pulling me against him, until there was nothing between us but heat and unspoken promises.

"Tell me to stop," he murmured against my lips.

I should.

I needed to.

But I couldn't.

I was already too far gone.

His mouth moved down to my jaw, to the sensitive skin just beneath my ear. "You belong to me, Lyra."

Something inside me cracked at his words, a dangerous thrill racing through me.

I should have fought harder. Should have resisted.

Instead, my fingers dug into his shoulders, my head tilting as he kissed the hollow of my throat, my breath coming in ragged gasps.

"Say it," he growled against my skin.

I squeezed my eyes shut.

I hated him.

I hated how much I wanted him.

But I couldn't give him that. Not yet.

I shoved against his chest, putting space between us, my breath ragged. "You don't own me, Leo."

He exhaled, his jaw tight, his hands flexing like he was barely holding himself back.

"You can fight it all you want," he murmured, stepping even closer, his voice rough. "But you are mine."

My body betrayed me again, heat pooling low in my stomach at the sheer certainty in his tone.

I shook my head, forcing myself to breathe, forcing myself to think.

"This is a mistake," I whispered.

His smirk was dark, lethal. "Then keep making it."

He reached for me again, and for a terrifying moment, I wanted to let him.

Instead, I stepped back. "I need time," I said, my voice steadier now.

Leo studied me for a long moment, then finally nodded. "Take all the time you need, Lyra." His lips curved into something dangerous. "Just know that when you finally give in,I won't let you go."

And with that, he turned and disappeared back into the shadows, leaving me standing there, heart pounding, breath unsteady.

And I knew he was right.

I was already his.

I just wasn't ready to admit it yet.