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Still wrapped in my bathrobe, Sylus guided me into his closet. The space was a reflection of him—dark wood, sleek lines, and order in every detail. The shelves were filled with neatly folded black and grey clothing, all muted tones and quiet power. His shoes, perfectly lined up, whispered of authority, while the scent of his cologne mixed with the fresh dampness from his shower, creating an intoxicating blend that clung to the air.
He led me to a vanity, the soft lights around the mirror casting a warm, flattering glow. The smooth marble surface was as pristine as everything else in his world. Seeing Sylus with his hair still wet, strands falling into his face, stirred something deep within me.
He dried my hair with the same care he showed in everything he did, each stroke of the comb slow, calculated, enjoying the moment. When he finished, he buried his face in my hair for a brief second, inhaling the scent, before quickly drying his own hair. I turned to watch him, captivated.
"Come here, let me help you," I offered.
Without a word, he handed me the hair dryer and sat on the chair. His hair was soft between my fingers, and as I worked my hands through it, memories of last night rushed back to me—how my fingers had gripped those same strands, pulling him closer, deeper. My teeth grazed my bottom lip at the thought as heat spreading through me.
Watching my reflection in the mirror, he chuckled lowly. “Judging by your expression, you clearly enjoy my wet hair.”
I smirked. “Why choose one version when I can enjoy them all?”
His lips curved into that knowing smile that always made my heart skip a beat. “Indeed, you can have every version of me,” he said, his voice like velvet.
Once his hair was dry, I kissed the top of his head, letting my lips linger for a moment. His hand caught mine, bringing it to his lips, kissing my palm, then the back of my hand with the kind of reverence that made my breath hitch. With a quick movement, he pulled me into his lap, his arms encircling me as if I were his to hold, his to protect.
“No one has ever touched me like that,” he muttered, his fingers gently weaving through my hair. His voice was softer than usual, as if sharing a secret meant only for me. “But with you, I’d let you do anything.”
A smile curled on my lips, a playful spark lighting inside me. “Anything?” I leaned in, brushing a gentle kiss against his forehead, lingering just enough to feel his breath catch.
He stopped playing with my hair, watching me with such intensity that I felt my pulse quicken.
“And this?” I teased, kissing his cheek. His muscles stiffened under my touch, tension coiling in his body, yet he didn’t move away.
“And this?” I whispered, not waiting for a response. I pressed my lips against his, soft at first, tentative. But when I began to pull back, his kiss deepened.
His other hand roamed down my body, grazing my skin until he reached the tie of my bathrobe. For a brief moment, I thought he might untie it, but with a surge of self-control, his hand stopped, tightening instead in my hair. The kiss ended, leaving me breathless as he whispered against my lips, “As much as I want to stay here and do things with you, we really should get ready.”
I looked at him curiously, trying to catch my breath. “Where are we going?”
“Somewhere you’ll like,” he replied, standing up, guiding me with a gentle tug.
“Is this our first date?” I teased, a smile tugging at the corner of my lips.
He chuckled, the sound deep and rich. “Let’s see if we can call it that,” he said, leading me towards a part of the closet hidden behind a closed door.
When he opened it, I was greeted by a collection of women's clothes that made me frown.
“Whose are these?” I asked suspiciously.
“They’re yours, sweetie,” he replied with ease, but his casual tone only deepened my doubt. How could these be mine? Was there someone else before me? My mind spiraled, racing with questions I wasn’t sure I wanted answers to.
He noticed my expression and couldn’t help but laugh softly. “Come closer,” he beckoned with a playful glint in his eyes.
Reluctantly, I stepped forward, and to my surprise, the clothes were new—hunter uniforms tailored to my size, casual outfits that matched my style, and dresses I had only dreamed of wearing. My gaze caught on one dress in particular—a black gown with a hint of red, subtle but striking, like Sylus’s eyes.
The dress was long, with a daring neckline that dipped dangerously low and a high slit running up one leg. It was seductive yet functional, designed for movement—beautiful and dangerous, just like him.
“Try it,” Sylus urged, his voice low and insistent. “It’ll fit you perfectly.”
I hesitated for a moment before I let the robe slip from my shoulders, pooling at my feet. I stood naked before the mirror, feeling his gaze on me, “Exquisite,” he whispered, more to himself than to me.
The marks he had left on my skin from the night before were still visible. My fingers traced them absentmindedly, recalling the heat of his touch, the way he’d claimed me. Sylus’s lips curled into a satisfied smile as he saw those marks, a reminder that I belonged to him.
“You look even more beautiful with those marks,” he said, his eyes darkening with promise. “I’ll make sure they return once they’ve faded.” His gaze was heated, making my body shiver in anticipation.
The dress would do nothing to hide those marks, but I didn’t care. Let the world see. Let them know that I was his, and he was mine.
I moved to the drawer, eyeing the delicate lace undergarments, debating which bra might complement the dress without ruining its sleek silhouette. Before I could decide, Sylus stepped closer, a playful smirk curving his lips.
“You won’t need that,” he teased, his voice dropping into a sinful whisper. “I prefer you in nothing but your skin, anyway.”
Heat rushed to my cheeks, but I met his gaze, unflinching. So that’s how he likes it... I made a mental note for next time.
Slipping into the dress, I marveled at how it fit like a second skin, the fabric sliding over my body as though it had been sewn just for me. “How…?” I asked, unable to hide my surprise at the precision.
He stepped closer again, his fingers trailing down the side of the dress, grazing my waist with deliberate care. His eyes lingered on me, dark and full of satisfaction. “Does it matter how?” he whispered, “When you’re the only thing that matters?”
I could feel the intensity of his gaze, like he had envisioned this moment long before it happened. It made me realize just how far ahead he had planned—how he had anticipated my presence here, prepared for it. I hadn’t thought I would end up in his arms, becoming his, but here we were, drawn to each other like opposing forces.
I’d known Sylus for such a short time, yet it felt as though he’d been a part of my life forever. There was something undeniable between us, something I couldn’t resist even if I wanted to. He was the pull I couldn’t escape, the gravity that kept me grounded.
I didn’t regret anything—not the passion, not the intimacy we’d shared. The thought of denying him any longer seemed laughable. And as I stood there, watching him, I realized how much he meant to me. How much I cared. How much I needed him.
He noticed the silence in my thoughts, studying me closely. “Are you regretting this already?” he asked carefully, hesitating.
I snapped out of my reverie, giving him a reassuring smile. “What’s there to regret when you’re the one who makes me feel alive?” I placed my hand on his cheek, letting him see the truth in my eyes. “You’re the fire that ignites my soul, Sylus”
He stilled like he was stunned by my words and he took my hand in his. “You don’t have to say that,” he mumbled bashfully.
“But I want you to know it,” I replied softly as my thumb brushing his cheek. “Now, get dressed—or I’ll have to do it for you.”
A smirk tugged at his lips as he stepped back. “I might take you up on that offer,” he teased, pulling me close for one last kiss before moving toward his own side of the closet.
After a moment of quiet, Sylus smiled, pulling away from me as he reached into the closet, retrieving a tailored black shirt and dark trousers. He shrugged the shirt over his broad shoulders, but I could see the way his eyes lingered on me in the mirror, admiring me in that seductive black dress he’d picked.
"You know," I began playfully, stepping closer as he fumbled with the buttons of his shirt. "For someone who claims to be so smooth, you’re having quite the trouble getting dressed."
He paused, catching my eye through the reflection, a mischievous glint there. "Maybe I’m just distracted by the most beautiful sight in the room."
I rolled my eyes, biting back a grin as I moved to stand in front of him. "Here, let me." Without waiting for his response, I slid my hands up his chest, starting to button his shirt from the bottom up. Each button felt like a tiny act of rebellion, given how much I wanted to leave it undone.
"Careful, sweetie," he teased, his fingers grazing my waist. "I might think you're dressing me just to undress me later."
My breath hitched slightly at his words, but I forced myself to stay composed. "Maybe I am," I shot back, feigning innocence as I finished with the last button, smoothing the fabric over his chest. "But you’ll have to wait and find out."
He chuckled softly, his eyes darkening with amusement and something more dangerous. "I’m not sure I’m the patient type."
I reached for his trousers next, offering a smug smile as I grabbed the waistband. "Oh, I know," I teased, pulling him closer by the belt loops. "But this time, you'll have to be." His grin widened, but he didn’t move away, letting me continue helping him dress.
Once I finished, I stepped back, admiring him in the sharp, dark outfit. He looked every bit the lethal, magnetic force I’d come to know, but now with an added layer of elegance. It was almost unfair how good he looked dressed up.
Stepping to my side of the closet, he opened a drawer, revealing an array of sparkling jewelry. Each piece shimmered under the light, elegant and breathtaking. Sylus had a deep appreciation for beauty—whether in things or in people—and to be loved by him was like being the centerpiece of his universe. His love was intense, consuming, yet gentle in its own way. He made you feel as though you were a rare, precious thing—someone he’d treasure and protect with all his power.
As I stood there, watching him sift through the collection, I couldn’t help but think of how it felt to be loved by this man. It was overwhelming yet comforting. Like standing in the middle of a storm but knowing, without a doubt, that the storm would never touch you. Being loved by Sylus was like being wrapped in fire and silk at the same time—intense, thrilling, and undeniably powerful.
Among the glittering treasures, his fingers paused over a ruby necklace, its deep crimson stone a perfect match for my dress and his eyes. He picked it up with care, his eyes flicking to me with a seductive glint. He stepped closer, standing behind me, and I felt the cool metal against my skin as he draped the necklace around my neck. The ruby nestled perfectly against my collarbone, gleaming in the light. His fingers lingered on the clasp.
"Stunning," he whispered, his breath brushing my ear. His hands slid from the necklace to my shoulders, resting there for a moment as his eyes admired the way the necklace complemented my dress—and, no doubt, the woman wearing it.
I touched the pendant gently, feeling its coolness against my skin. “Always marking your territory, aren’t you?”
He chuckled softly, his lips ghosting over the side of my neck as he whispered, "Can you blame me?"
It felt like wearing him. The dress, the jewels—every piece he chose for me seemed like an extension of him, as if I carried a part of him with me, draped across my skin. The rubies were like his eyes, ever-watchful, ever-present, a symbol of his power and the fire that bound us. The dress, with its bold lines and seductive elegance, was his touch, embracing me completely. I had become his masterpiece, adorned in the things he loved, things he had chosen specifically for me.
Suddenly, he knelt before me, lifting my foot as he slid on a black heel with a striking red sole. The shoe fit like a glove, as if it had been crafted precisely for me. A smile tugged at my lips. "How did you manage to measure everything so perfectly?" I asked, arching an eyebrow.
He returned a smile, but there was something possessive beneath it, something that suggested he'd always intended to see me here, wrapped in his choices as if they were my own. “I have keen eyes, sweetie,” he replied smoothly.
His hands moved with deliberate slowness, lifting the hem of my dress to reveal my bare thigh. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver racing up my spine. Reaching into his jacket, he took a small handgun, its ruby-encrusted hilt catching the light, mirroring the jewels that adorned my skin and his eyes. Kneeling there, his hands pressed firmly against my thigh as he slipped the holster into place, wrapping it with such practiced precision that it made me wonder how many times he’d done this before.
"Stay still," he whispered, his breath warm on my skin. His hands lingered as he adjusted the strap, fingers brushing my thigh a fraction longer than necessary, drifting just a little higher than he had to. His fingers traced a slow, deliberate line, a smirk tugging at his lips when he caught my reaction.
I glanced down at him, managing a teasing smile despite the rapid beating of my heart. “I didn’t think this was that kind of date,” I remarked, trying to keep my voice steady even as his touch undid me.
His smirk deepened, fully aware of the effect he had on me. "What kind of date do you think suits a hunter and the leader of Onychinus?" His voice dropped to a low hum, and his thumb began to trace lazy circles, sending waves of heat through me.
I bit my bottom lip, barely suppressing a moan as his fingers moved delicately over my skin, tracing slow, unhurried patterns. “You know...” I began, but as his thumb grazed my clit and he slipped a finger inside, “Ah…” I gasped, “the usual—fancy dinner, candlelight, maybe a nice bottle of wine... and then, of course, dodging bullets by dessert." My voice came out ragged, my pulse hammering beneath his touch.
A chuckle rumbled low in his chest as his lips brushed the inside of my knee, leaving a warm trail that made my skin tingle. "Dodging bullets, hmm? I suppose we could skip the wine and go straight to the action." He stood, giving me a knowing look that ignited a fire within me. It wasn’t enough; I craved more, and when he looked at me, he saw it too. "Though I doubt any bullets could distract me when you’re wearing that dress, looking like this," he said, slipping another finger in, expertly working his way to that sweet spot.
"Are you saying I'm a distraction?" I asked, instinctively leaning toward him, drawn by his irresistible force. His fingers delved deeper, exploring with a precision that left me breathless and a shiver coursed through me. His thumb circled just the right spot, coaxing reactions from me I couldn’t control. Each touch held a quiet, simmering power, teasing out reactions I couldn’t contain—the subtle hitch of my breath, the way my heart raced, and the almost unconscious way my body tilted closer, craving every whisper of contact, every tantalizing press of his fingertips.
"You," he noted, fingers working deeper, "are a very dangerous distraction, sweetie." He captured my lips in a kiss, deep and consuming, silencing the moans I couldn’t suppress as his fingers teased and tormented me in the most exquisite way, exploring each sensitive inch.
His lips remained on mine as I whispered, "You need someone to distract while you do your dirty work, don’t you?"
He pulled back, just enough to meet my gaze. “There you are, my brilliant little kitten,” he noted, his fingers kept working inside me, heat pooling with each stroke. The sensation of his fingers, his kiss, and our conversation create an intoxicating effect.
Lifting one of my legs, he slid his fingers deeper, each movement intensifying the ache he’d stirred within me, torturing me further. I felt the slickness, heard it as he moved, each motion pushing me closer. The heat was building and I was teetering on the edge. “Let it go, sweetie,” and as the wave of pleasure crashed over me, his kiss held my gasp, muffling the sound of release as I melted into his embrace.
As the last tremor of pleasure faded, Sylus remained close, his forehead resting gently against mine as he waited for my breathing to steady. A satisfied smirk danced on his lips, his hand lingering possessively on my thigh. The warmth of his touch enveloped me, soothing my racing pulse even as the remnants of pleasure coursed through my veins.
He leaned back slightly, finally pulling his hand away from my thigh, and without breaking eye contact, he licked his fingers clean, a dark gleam in his eyes as they roamed over my flushed skin. "Perfect," he whispered, as if admiring a masterpiece of his own creation.
"You wear that glow well, little star," he remarked, his thumb tracing along my jawline, his smile deepening with satisfaction. "Now everyone will know exactly who’s to blame for it." He helped me adjust my dress, smoothing the hemline with careful precision, and even tucked a few stray strands of hair behind my ear.
I laughed softly, the sound almost shy, but the intensity of his gaze emboldened me. "Maybe they should," I teased, feeling the blush creep deeper, wondering if I’d ever manage to keep my composure in his presence.
He gave me one last look, his eyes dark with unspoken promises, then extended his hand toward me. “Come on, before I decide to keep you here all night.”