Page 5 of Knot Heirs: Serenity's Reign

She crushed it ruthlessly, focusing instead on the physical. On the way his hands branded her skin, on the delicious pressure of his weight against her. She couldn't let herself think about anything else; couldn't let him inside her head. On sensation, not feeling. She was Serenity Vale, never one to surrender, always two steps ahead—wasn't she? She rode out the storm of his touch with raw determination, forced her mind not to linger on what it would mean to trust him even an inch. To let him be more than a secret, more than something she couldn't quite quit.

Once, she might have believed him. Once, she might have let his words convince her. But that was before. Before she knew the game they were both playing. Before she realized that to him, winning was everything. Winning was ownership. Ownership was control.

Each brutal kiss, each merciless touch, wound her tighter. Was it even possible to keep pretending? Could she keep on denying what was obvious to both of them?

With the sheer force of his will combining with hers, Serenity felt herself unraveling, unspooling in ways that frightened her more than anything else. If he wanted this game, she’d play it, but she’d do it her way. She focused on the heat burning between them rather than the wild, treacherous emotions that threatened to surface. She’d break before she’d let him see how close he’d come to the truth.

She could feel the old doubts creeping in, whispering that she wouldn't survive the truth, that this would consume her if she wasn't careful. That she'd be left with nothing but ash and smoke when all was said and done. She'd have to be ready for that, would have to be ready to rebuild once the firestorm had passed.

But for now, she let herself get lost in the moment, gripped it with white-knuckled intensity, determined to make him feel every scar on her heart. Every moment stretched out, painfully beautiful, until she barely knew where he ended and she began. For now, letting him think she could feel as he did. For now, holding on to the deceptions that were supposed to keep her safe.

His grip on her wrist was bruising, his fingers like iron bands around delicate bone—and gods help her, Serenity leaned into it.

She hated him.

She hated the way he could read her without trying. The way he loomed in every room like he owned the world and she was just another challenge to conquer. But worse—worse—was how her bodythrummedunder his touch. How it obeyed some ancient, instinctual call whenever he looked at her like he was starved and she was a banquet.

“You never learn,” Darius rasped, voice dragging down her spine like velvet over blades as he forced her back against thekitchen island. His chest brushed hers, and it took all her will not to gasp.

“Always mouthing off. Always testing me.”

Serenity arched a brow, pulse racing despite herself. “And you’re always so desperate to shut me up.”

His fingers were suddenly on her chin, tilting her face up with just enough force to remind her who he was—Alpha, heir, threat—and for a long, tight moment their gazes locked. Hers, defiant and flickering. His, burning gold, all wolf and unspoken need.

“You really want to see what I’ll do when I stop holding back, Omega?”

There it was. That word. That damn word.

It curled between them like smoke, thick and suffocating. On his tongue, it was a weapon. A reminder that she wasn’t like him. That no matter how strong, how sharp she made herself—she would always be this. Born beneath, built to bend.

But the worst part?

The worst part was the way the word ignited something inside her.

Something ancient. Something primal. Something she’d spent her entire life denying.

Her thighs clenched of their own accord, heat blooming low in her belly like wildfire. She masked it with a smirk, a tilt of her head, her voice like smoke. “I’m not yours.”

“No,” he agreed, his lips brushing her jaw. “But you will be mine for this.”

Her breath hitched.

Because they both knew what this was. What it had always been between them.

War. Lust. A shared kind of madness neither of them could name.

And still—he lifted her dress.

Slowly.

Painfully.

Dragging the dark fabric up her thighs like he was unwrapping a secret only he was allowed to keep. His hands were rough from battle, but his touch made her shiver. She was bare beneath it. No lace. No armor. Just her and him and that awful, unbearable hunger.

His fingers skimmed her skin and landed at her inner thigh, holding her there.

“You goingto fuck me or start monologuing about it again?” she taunted, breathless.

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