Before she could respond, I wrapped one arm around her waist and pulled her against me, my other hand tangling in her hair. The full-body contact sent shockwaves through both of us.

Natalia made a small, broken sound—half gasp, half sob—as I claimed her mouth in a bruising kiss.

The kiss consumed us—raw, primal, a violent storm of pent-up desire finally unleashed. Months of carefully constructed walls crumbled as her nails raked across my shoulders, leaving sharp crescents that sent jolts of exquisite pain through my system. I backed her against the wall with deliberate force, savoring how her body yielded to mine, her soft curves pressed firmly against my hardened frame.

With newfound strength, I hoisted her up effortlessly. Her legs instinctively wrapped around my waist, locking behind me as I carried her toward the bed. The Aphrodite pills had transformed our nervous systems into hypersensitive conduits of pleasure—every brush of skin, every point of contact amplified beyond reason, driving us toward a frenzied desperation.

When I lowered her onto the mattress, she refused to let go, her fingers frantically clutching at my shirt, tangling in my hair, grasping at any part of me she could reach. The hunger in her eyes was almost feral. The last vestiges of her carefully maintained façade completely shattered.

"You cheated," she accused between ragged breaths, her chest heaving as I traced a scorching path of kisses down the elegant column of her throat. Her pulse raced wildly beneath my lips, her skin flushed and burning. "You pushed and pushed until something inside me just... broke."

"I played to win," I corrected, nipping at the sensitive spot where her neck met her shoulder. She arched beneath me, a small cry escaping her lips. "Just like you did, tracking me through the city, watching me with Emi." I could feel her body tense at the mention of her friend's name.

"I hate you sometimes," she whispered, but her hands were pulling me closer, contradicting her words.

"No, you don't," I murmured against her skin. "You hate how much you need me. How much I've gotten under your skin."

Aphrodite hovered above us, her tiny features alight with satisfaction. Yes, tell her the truth, she urged. Make her accept what she is to you.

I caught Natalia's wrists, pinning them above her head with one hand. With the other, I traced a path from her throat to her navel, watching goosebumps rise in the wake of my touch. The pill had made her skin hypersensitive; even this light contact had her squirming beneath me, fighting against my grip not to escape but to get closer.

"Listen carefully," I said, my voice low and controlled despite the fire raging through my veins. "You're mine now. Not just tonight, not just while we're high on these pills. Mine. My queen. My partner. My first pillar. Do you understand?" Each word was deliberate, weighted with significance beyond the bedroom.

Her eyes locked with mine, defiance warring with desire. The proud, untouchable Natalia Kuzmina—heir to a Hunter legacy, social queen, the girl who once looked at me with nothing but contempt—now pinned beneath me at the precipice of surrender.

"And if I say no?" she challenged, but there was a tremor in her voice that betrayed her.

I lowered my head, my lips brushing her ear. "Then I stop. I walk away. And you spend the next four hours in agony, alone with these sensations and no relief."

A shudder ran through her entire body. "You wouldn't." Her voice was half-demand, half-plea.

"Try me," I challenged, pulling back to meet her gaze. "I might be a bastard, but I'm not a rapist. I want you willing. I want you begging. I want you to choose me, with your eyes wide open."

Natalia stared up at me, her pulse fluttering visibly in her throat.

Finally, she relaxed beneath me, the tension leaving her body. Her eyes softened, though the fire in them remained. "I'm yours," she whispered. "I've been yours since that night in the dungeon. Maybe even before that." The admission seemed to both terrify and liberate her.

Something warm and unfamiliar expanded in my chest at her words. Not just triumph or lust or the thrill of conquest, but something deeper, more complex. Something that felt dangerously like genuine emotion. It was unexpected, unsettling—a complication in what should have been a straightforward victory.

"Say it again," I demanded, needing to hear it, needing to be sure. Needing to cement this moment in reality.

"I'm yours," she repeated, stronger this time. Her hands, still pinned above her head, flexed in my grip. "Now shut up and prove that you're mine too." There it was—the queen reasserting herself even in surrender. Not breaking, but transforming.

I released her wrists, and her hands immediately tangled in my hair, pulling me down into another kiss. This one was different—still urgent, still needy, but with an underlying current of tenderness that caught me off guard. A kiss that spoke of possession going both ways.

"Aphrodite's pills are a hell of a drug," I murmured against her lips, half joking, half serious, trying to rationalize the unfamiliar emotions crashing through me.

Natalia pulled back slightly, confusion crossing her features. "Who's Aphrodite?" Her brow furrowed, momentarily breaking the spell between us.

I glanced around the room, but the miniature goddess had vanished. No golden light, no tinkling laughter, no whispered encouragements. Just Natalia and me, alone in the growing dark. Whatever divine witness had been present had departed, satisfied with her handiwork.

"No one," I said, turning back to her. "Just a hallucination." My fingers traced the curve of her cheek.

"You're so weird sometimes," she said, but there was fondness in her voice. Her hands traced patterns on my back, each touch sending ripples of pleasure through my overstimulated nerves.

"You have no idea," I replied, lowering my head to trail kisses along her collarbone. Against her skin, I whispered, "But you're about to find out."

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