Chapter 833

Lucian's obsidian eyes darkened as he observed Rosalind's futile resistance. Without warning, he demanded, "What game are you playing?"

Rosalind's lashes trembled like fragile butterfly wings. "I don't know what you're talking about."

A humorless chuckle escaped him as he seized her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. "You weren't so reluctant when you needed my help. I remember exactly how eager you were that night. Shall I refresh your memory?"

The recollection of their heated encounter in that dimly lit VIP lounge flooded her mind. Her porcelain skin flushed pink. "Release me!"

His smirk turned predatory. "Now that your problems are solved, you discard me like yesterday's news? Ready to chase after your next conquest?"

Rosalind gaped at him. "Next conquest? Must you be so vulgar?"

"Did I misjudge?" Lucian's grip tightened, pulling her closer until their breaths mingled. "Is Julian Ashford your new obsession? First a wealthy playboy like Julian Blackwood, now an intellectual professor? Your tastes change faster than the seasons. Tell me, how many men have warmed your bed these past three years?"

Her pupils dilated in shock. Each word was a dagger twisting in her chest.

"Stop it!" she snapped.

Lucian went silent.

Seizing the moment, Rosalind shoved him away. "My life is none of your concern."

She turned on her heel, heels clicking sharply against the marble floor. How could he think so little of her? What kind of woman did he believe her to be?

Before she could take three steps, Lucian caught her wrist, spinning her back to face him.

"What now?" she hissed.

In answer, he cradled her face and crushed his lips against hers.

The kiss was a storm—unrelenting, possessive, punishing. The heady aroma of aged Bordeaux clung to him, intoxicating as it flooded her senses. Against her will, her lips parted, and her knees nearly buckled.

She had always been weak to his scent. As Everett Sinclair, he'd smelled like sunlight and cedar—safe and addictive. But Lucian Graves carried the richness of sandalwood cologne and expensive wine, a combination that unraveled her resolve.

Without breaking the kiss, he maneuvered her backward into an unlit room. The door clicked shut behind them as he pushed her onto a plush bed, his body following hers.

The world tilted. Rosalind's hands flew to his chest, nails digging into his tailored shirt. "Let me go! Stop this—I said no!"

At her refusal, his eyes burned crimson. "You'll take anyone but me?"

The sharp crack of her palm against his cheek echoed in the dark. His mask slipped off, revealing the face she knew too well.

Even in shadow, their proximity allowed her to see every detail. Her feline eyes gleamed with defiance. Lucian moved to cover them.

"Don't look."

She batted his hand away. "I said release me!"

His chest heaved. Ignoring her protests, he reclaimed her mouth, then trailed kisses down her throat, her collarbone—

Each touch was a brand. A claim.

And heaven help her, she was losing the will to fight it.