CHAPTER 55: CASSEL’S RAGING DESIRE

Cassel — POV

I could barely stop myself from taking the girl in my arms and devouring her whole.

It was a savage impulse, primitive and instinctive, one that tore through me the very moment her small, trembling body collided with mine. For a heartbeat, all reason dissolved.

Every part of me screamed to claim, to consume, to press her so close that the world itself would disappear.

And she—

She still had the nerve to tell me I was the one seducing people?

The audacity.

Who was the one leaning over the seat earlier, laughing softly with Henry as if she wasn’t driving me insane with every breath she took? Who smiled and nodded and tilted her head like some gentle, oblivious angel—while pretending she didn’t know what she was doing to me?

But—

The moment she threw herself at me...

My body rose on its own, reacting faster than thought, faster than breath. Heat slammed into my veins like a wildfire.

My mind flooded with every wicked, sinful thought a man could possibly imagine.

Worse ones.

Darker ones.

One I had been holding back for far too long.

The fact that I wasn’t already crushing her mouth under mine, the fact that my hands weren’t already exploring every inch of her pale, warm skin...

That was a miracle.

A miracle powered entirely by fear—fear of scaring her away.

She had no idea.

None.

Not the slightest clue how hard I was fighting myself right now.

How desperately I was clinging to the last threads of restraint so I wouldn’t grab her, pin her against the nearest wall, and take everything she unknowingly offered.

To protect her in my hands.

To ruin her in my hands.

To paint that porcelain-white skin of hers with color—vivid, trembling shades of life, of heat, of love.

The moment I felt her soft weight settle against my chest, my fingers tightened around her without permission.

Just a little.

Just enough to feel.

Just enough to burn.

A rough exhale escaped me before I could stop it, shaking loose from the cage of my lungs.

"Who’s seducing who, Rosalia?" I asked, my voice low, uneven, dangerously close to breaking.

She squeezed her eyes shut—completely shut—like a little girl trying to escape a nightmare by pretending it wasn’t there.

As if closing them would let her slip away from me.

The sight... was adorable.

And ridiculous.

A laugh escaped me—not mocking, not cruel, but the helpless sound of a man losing control of himself in the presence of the only person capable of undoing him.

"Call me again," I murmured, "and I’ll let you go."

I pressed my forehead to hers, feeling the warmth of her skin seep into mine.

Then I eased her back—just slightly—so our faces aligned, so I could look at her if she dared to open those pretty eyes.

But I didn’t do anything more.

Not because I didn’t want to.

God, wanting was an understatement.

I wanted to do far more than what was appropriate for public eyes.

And that was the point.

Everyone around us was watching.

While I wouldn’t mind showing off—wouldn’t mind making it very clear to every man and woman within sight exactly who this girl belonged to—I didn’t want her dragged across murmurs and whispers.

I didn’t want her name on every tongue like some cheap spectacle.

Even when I was furious with her... even then, I couldn’t stand the idea of her hearing insults directed at her.

I could never bear hurting her myself.

So how could I tolerate others doing it?

"Rosalia," I said, soft but commanding, "be a good girl and say it."

Her long lashes trembled, casting delicate shadows on her flushed cheeks, but she stubbornly refused to open her eyes.

"Rosalia"

I warned quietly, "Everyone is looking at us. If you don’t say it, then I will—"

I dragged out my tone deliberately, letting the threat coil around her like a slow-moving flame.

As expected, her face went crimson.

Vivid.

Beautiful.

Her expression twisted into one of horror and embarrassment—clearly imagining something far worse than what I actually meant.

Honestly...

So easy to fool.

"H–Hu—... husb-and."

Her voice cracked and stumbled over the name, trembling like her whole body was on the verge of melting.

She repeated it.

And somehow, her shyness was a fresh torment tearing into the last of my self-control.

The veins along my hand bulged as I clenched my fingers.

I forced myself to breathe through the blaze she had ignited under my skin.

The little girl had no idea what she was doing—not even a fraction.

"I said it," she mumbled weakly. "Let me go. Put me down. Everyone is watching us."

Two long breaths.

Then a third.

Only then did I force myself to loosen my grip and lower her gently to the ground—my claws dragging away from the warmth of her delicate body, away from the soft curves I had tasted only a second ago.

But in my mind, I swore—

If something like this happened again...

If she provoked me again...

There would be no holding back.

She ran from me the moment her feet touched the ground, and I couldn’t stop the dark look that followed her.

Little rabbit.

She really did look like a startled little rabbit scurrying for cover.

I hated whoever first gave her that nickname—truly, deeply hated them—but even I had to admit it suited her too well to deny.

I tore my gaze away from her trembling form and glanced toward Henry.

He was staring at me.

Henry was—and still is—my subordinate and a good friend.

But there are certain things a man cannot share or surrender, not even for a brother or a trusted companion.

No words.

No expressions.

With a single glance exchanged between us, we both understood exactly what was running through the other’s mind.

After all, we were both grown men—seasoned and mature.

Each of us knew how the other thought, which was precisely why neither of us acted rashly.

Because I knew Henry’s mind, his nature, and the choices he was bound to make.

Otherwise, anyone else who dared lay their eyes on what was mine would not have lasted even two seconds in this world—there wouldn’t be a trace of them left, not even ash.

I would never forgive anyone who held even a fleeting thought of taking what belonged to me.

In this life, no one dreams of claiming anything from me.