The kiss was like fire—raw, wild, and unrelenting. Kavy could feel her sanity slipping away with every passing second. Her hands gripped the fabric of Dante's shirt, desperate for something to hold on to, but it only made her feel more out of control.
Dante's lips moved against hers, slow and possessive, as though he were marking her with every touch. She felt the weight of him everywhere—the press of his chest against hers, the hardness of his body, the heat that radiated off him like a furnace.
The connection between them was undeniable. It was suffocating. It was everything.
Kavy tried to push him away, but the strength of her resistance was nothing compared to the power Dante had over her now. His hands slid down her back, pulling her closer, forcing her to feel every inch of him.
God, no.
The thought barely formed in her mind before it was consumed by the growing need that was overwhelming her senses. She could feel it deep in her bones—the change that was happening, the pull she could no longer deny.
"You're mine," Dante murmured, his lips brushing against her ear. "And you'll always be mine."
His voice was like a spell, wrapping around her, keeping her tethered to him even as she fought to break free.
She wanted to scream, wanted to claw at him and demand to know how to escape this madness, but her body betrayed her once again.
Kavy's heart was racing. Her breath was shallow, and every fiber of her being was calling out for more. She tried to fight it, but there was nothing left to hold on to. She was already too far gone.
Dante pulled away slightly, just enough to look at her. His gaze was dark, filled with a mix of satisfaction and something else—something deeper, more possessive.
"You're afraid," he observed, his voice a low rasp.
Kavy swallowed hard. She was trembling, her entire body shaking with the fight she had lost, with the fear that was finally catching up to her.
"I'm not afraid," she said, but it was a lie. She was terrified, but it wasn't of him anymore. It was of herself. Of what she was becoming.
"Liar," Dante said, his fingers gently lifting her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. "You fear me, Kavy. And you fear what you're becoming. But you know what? I'm not going anywhere. I'm not letting you go."
The possessiveness in his words was suffocating, but in some twisted way, it felt like a comfort.
She opened her mouth to argue, to tell him that she couldn't stay, that this couldn't be her future, but the words caught in her throat.
Because deep down, in the darkest part of her soul, she knew it was already too late.
"You belong to me now," Dante repeated, his voice soft but with a finality that left no room for debate.
Kavy closed her eyes, a tear slipping down her cheek. She wasn't sure if it was from fear or from something else—something far darker that was growing inside her.
When she opened her eyes again, Dante's face was close to hers, his lips barely brushing against her skin.
"Say it, Kavy," he whispered. "Say you're mine."
She hesitated for a long moment, fighting against the darkness that was pulling her under, but in the end, the words left her lips in a whisper.
"I'm yours."
The moment the words were out, she felt it—something inside her snapped. The transformation, the change she had been dreading, was happening. The hunger inside her roared louder than anything she had ever felt before.
And for the first time, she didn't try to fight it.
She let it take her.