Page 106 of Knot Heirs: Serenity's Reign

"It matters," she said, taking his hand and leading him toward the bedroom. "Because tonight, we do this my way."

His eyebrows rose. "Your way?"

"My way," she confirmed, stopping at the foot of his bed. "Slow. Controlled." She pushed gently on his chest until he sat on the edge of the mattress. "And you don't get to be in charge."

A muscle in his jaw twitched. "That's not how this works."

"It's exactly how this works." She stood between his legs, her fingers tracing the tattoo that curled around his neck. "Unless you're too afraid to surrender control for once."

The challenge hung in the air between them. She could see the war raging behind his eyes—Alpha instinct demanding dominance, personal desire craving her touch on any terms.

"Just tonight," he finally conceded, his voice rough.

Serenity smiled, a genuine expression that reached her golden eyes. "We'll see."

She pushed him back onto the bed, climbing over him with deliberate slowness. Each touch was calculated—firm enough tosatisfy, gentle enough to tantalize. When his hands moved to take control, she pinned them above his head.

"No," she whispered against his ear. "Mine."

The growl that rumbled from his chest vibrated through her body, but he complied, surrendering to her pace, her rhythm, her demands.

Time dissolved as they moved together, her leading, him following—a complete inversion of their public dynamic.

When pleasure finally crashed through them both, it was with an intensity that left them gasping, trembling against each other in the half-light.

20

WHAT WE CAN DO AS ONE UNIT

~RONAN~

Ronan stared at the ceiling, listening to Serenity's steady breathing as she slept curled against his side.

Her head rested on his chest, brown hair spilling across his skin like silk. In sleep, the sharp edges of her personality softened, revealing the vulnerability she fought so hard to conceal.

I should be exhausted, he thought. After the fight, after this. But sleep eluded him, his mind racing with memories and regrets that refused to quiet.

Three years ago, he would have laughed at anyone who suggested he'd be here—harboring Marcus Vale's daughter, protecting her from the very wolves he once ran with. Fighting for her in an underground ring like some knight in blood-stained armor.

The irony wasn't lost on him. The Drakes and Vales had been rivals for generations, each family carving their empire from the other's failures. When his father had disowned him, throwing him into the streets for questioning family business practices, it had been Marcus Vale who'd offered him work. Not charity—Vale never did anything without calculation—but opportunity.

"Blood makes you a Drake," Marcus had told him, "but your choices make you who you are."

Choices. He'd made so many, each taking him further from the privileged heir he'd been raised to be, deeper into a world of violence and power. He'd built his security company from nothing, leveraging connections, intimidating competitors, occasionally spilling blood when necessary. Five billion in assets later, he was untouchable.

Or so he'd thought.

Serenity shifted in her sleep, her arm tightening around his waist. He brushed a strand of hair from her face, marveling at how someone so fierce could look so peaceful.

She doesn't realize what she's inherited, he thought. The Vale empire wasn't just wealth—it was a target. Every rival, every competitor who'd feared Marcus was now circling, testing boundaries, seeking weaknesses. Alexander Beaumont and his step-brother were just the first. There would be others.

And here he was, the disowned Drake heir, standing between them and Marcus Vale's daughter. Life had a fucked-up sense of humor.

He traced the curve of her shoulder, feeling the weight of promises made—some to Marcus before his death, others to himself. Protect her. Guide her. Don't fall for her.

Too late for that last one.

The sacrifices had been worth it. Every scar, every fight, every deal with devils in expensive suits had led him here. To this moment, with her trusting enough to sleep in his arms, vulnerable in a way she showed no one else.

---