ARSHILA POV
My hand lifts slowly.
Hovering above his mouth.
Then his nose.
Just for a second.
And I freeze.
Because without the mask… without the shadow… without the grainy camera quality…
He looks exactly like the man in the photograph.
Zy.
My fingers hover over his face, trembling just enough for me to notice. I lower my hand slightly, covering the line of his nose and mouth the way the mask in the photograph had hidden them, leaving only his eyes visible to me.
And suddenly the resemblance becomes unbearable.
The same sharp shape of the brow.
The same stillness in the face.
The same dangerous calm resting beneath the skin.
My stomach tightens.
It looks exactly the same.
The same man.
The same eyes.
A cold shiver crawls down my spine, and my breath catches in my throat as the realization presses harder against my mind.
Then his eyes snap open.
I gasp.
The sound escapes before I can stop it, and before my body even remembers how to move, his hand shoots up and grabs my wrist.
Fast.
Too fast.
In one brutal motion he yanks me forward.
The world tilts violently as my balance disappears and suddenly I am crashing onto him, my body landing across his chest on the couch.
My phone nearly slips from my hand.
"What the—"
I try to push myself up instantly, panic flaring through my veins, but he is already moving. His grip tightens around my wrist and with a sharp twist of his body he rolls us both across the couch.
Now he is on top.
His weight pins me down before I can react.
My back presses into the cushions, his arms braced on either side of me, trapping me between his body and the couch like a cage that just snapped shut.
I stare up at him, stunned.
His dark hair falls slightly over his forehead, his eyes fully awake now, sharp and focused on my face like a predator suddenly interested in its prey.
"What are you doing?" he asks quietly.
My heart is beating so hard it almost hurts.
"I didn't do anything," I say quickly.
His mouth curves slowly.
The smirk appears like it always does when he catches someone lying.
"Oh?" he murmurs. "Then what exactly were you about to do?"
"Get off me."
I try to push at his chest, but it is like trying to move a brick wall. His body does not shift even an inch, the heat from him pressing heavily against mine.
His gaze drops suddenly.
To my hand.
To the phone still clutched in my fingers.
My stomach drops.
I notice it too late.
Quickly I tap the screen and lock it before he can see the image still open.
His smirk deepens.
"Don't you think you've been acting suspicious lately?" he asks lazily.
""You weigh a damn ton."," I snap. "Get off me."
A low chuckle vibrates through his chest beneath my hands.
The sound is deep.
Smooth.
That infuriating smoky voice that always makes everything he says sound like a threat and a promise at the same time.
"Not yet," he says quietly. "I had another idea."
Something in his tone makes my stomach flip.
My eyes drop accidentally to his chest.
Big mistake.
His shirt is slightly open at the collar, the fabric pulled tight across muscle that rises and falls with every slow breath. Heat radiates off him in waves, and suddenly my brain refuses to cooperate with the investigation it was obsessed with two minutes ago.
All that careful thinking dissolves into something far more dangerous.
My throat feels dry.
His gaze drifts downward.
Slowly.
Toward my mouth.
"Can I?" he murmurs.
My eyes widen instantly.
"Zayan, get off me."
I try to twist away, trying to slide out from under him, but his arm shifts and suddenly my shoulders are pressed harder into the couch. His body lowers slightly, trapping me more completely beneath him.
The heat between us becomes unbearable.
Our faces are inches apart now.
"Don't," I warn breathlessly. "Zayan."
His smirk returns.
Slow.
Dark.
Then instead of moving toward my lips, he lowers his face toward my neck.
His breath brushes the sensitive skin just below my ear.
Warm.
Deliberate.
"You're very entertaining, Arshila," he murmurs against my skin.
My entire body shivers.
Before I can react, his teeth close around my earlobe.
I gasp.
At first the bite is almost playful.
Then he bites harder.
Sharp enough that pain sparks instantly through the delicate skin.
"Ah—!" I hiss, trying to shove him away.
"You're insane," I snap. "I will fucking kill you."
He does not move away.
Instead I feel the curve of his smile against the side of my neck, warm breath sliding slowly across my skin while his fingers tighten slightly against my wrist.
His voice lowers into something dangerously amused.
"I'd like to see you try."
His mouth does not leave my skin.
His lips brush slowly along the side of my neck, barely touching at first, like he is testing how much control he has over my nerves. The contact is soft but deliberate, and the heat of his breath spreads across my throat in slow waves that make my fingers curl against the couch.
Then his lips graze my skin again.
This time lower.
Closer to the pulse beating under my throat.
My stomach tightens.
His voice drops into a quiet murmur against my neck, warm and rough at the same time.
"What were you doing, wife?"
The word slides into my ear like he enjoys saying it.
I swallow.
"I said nothing."
My answer comes out sharper than I expect, but it does not sound convincing even to me.
His teeth close on my neck before I can react.
Not enough to break skin, but enough to make pain spark instantly through the sensitive spot beneath his mouth.
My fingers grab his shirt without thinking.
The fabric bunches tightly in my fist as my body jerks slightly under him.
"Stop it, Zayan."
The words leave my mouth in a whisper.
Soft.
Breathless.
Way too close to something that sounds like desire.
I hate it the moment I hear it.
His mouth stills.
Slowly he lifts his head.
His eyes find mine.
There is something dark and amused sitting in them, like he has already figured out every reaction my body is having and he is enjoying every second of it.
"Do you want me to stop?" he asks quietly.
I stare at him.
His face is close enough that I can see the tiny shift of his brows, the slow rise of his chest, the faint shadow of that smug smile waiting at the corner of his mouth.
This is his game.
His control.
His stupid little power play where he pushes just enough to see if I will break first.
Something inside me snaps.
Fine.
If he wants a game, I can play too.
Before he can react, I grab the front of his shirt and yank myself upward.
My teeth sink into the side of his neck.
Hard.
He hisses instantly.
The sound is sharp and surprised, his body tensing above mine as pain flashes across his face.
I pull back just enough to look at him.
"I have teeth too, you moron."
For a second he just stares at me.
Then his hands move.
Fast.
His grip closes around my waist and he shoves me back against the couch again, rolling his weight forward until I am pinned under him exactly like before.
Except now his eyes look darker.
More interested.
More awake.
A slow smirk spreads across his face.
I return it without hesitation.
"Do you have that much nerve, Zayan?"
He tilts his head slightly, studying me the way he always does when he is about to say something dangerous.
"Don't I?"
The words come out smooth and quiet.
His gaze drops.
First to my lips.
Then slowly back to my eyes.
The air between us tightens.
His voice lowers.
"Can I?"
My breath catches.
For a moment the world goes completely still.
Six months.
Six whole months of marriage and this man has never asked me that question.
Not once.
I look into his eyes and the hunger sitting there is not hidden this time.
It is open.
Waiting.
My heart beats hard enough to shake my ribs.
Slowly I nod.
The approval is small but clear.
Yes.
He sees it.
Something shifts in his expression immediately, the teasing fading just enough to reveal something quieter underneath.
Careful.
Almost reverent.
His hand slides slightly at my waist, steadying me against the couch as he lowers his face toward mine.
Slow.
Unhurried.
The space between our mouths disappears inch by inch.
I can feel his breath.
Warm.
Close.
His lips are barely a breath away from mine when—
"Oh my God."
Both of us freeze.
Our heads turn at the exact same second.
Standing in the doorway are,
The heirs.