I'm taking my wife."
The hall fell silent. Ethan's fingers slipped from Eliana's wrist as though the words themselves had burned him. Sebastian did not raise his voice. He did not repeat himself. He simply stepped forward, his hand settling at Eliana's waist with quiet authority.
Ethan tried again. "Sebastian, I was only—"
"You were standing too close."
Calm. Controlled. Deadly.
Sebastian's crimson eyes shifted toward him, edged with something far more dangerous than anger. "I am taking my wife."
The finality in his tone ended the conversation. And Ethan knew it.
Without another word, Sebastian guided Eliana out of the hall. Every vampire present watched. Every vampire could smell it—the mark.
The doors to his private chambers shut behind them with a heavy click. Silence followed. Only when they were fully alone did his hand slide from her waist.
Eliana turned to face him. "You embarrassed him."
"He embarrassed himself."
"He was speaking to me."
"And enjoying it."
There was no hesitation in his response.
"You didn't like that," she said.
"No."
He stepped closer, not in anger but with purpose. "I did not like the way he leaned toward you. Or the way he smiled as if he had a right to."
"And does he?"
Sebastian's jaw tightened. "No."
His gaze dropped briefly to her neck. "Every vampire in that hall could smell me on you. The mark carries my scent. It announces itself. They know you are marked by me."
Not boastful. Not loud. Just fact.
"And yet," his eyes darkened slightly, "he still thought he could flirt with you."
"You're jealous."
"I do not get jealous."
"You pulled me away."
"Yes."
"You said I was your wife."
"You are."
No doubt. No hesitation.
He reached up, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face. His fingers lingered. "If anyone is to stand that close to you, it will be me."
His gaze lowered to her lips. Slowly, deliberately, his thumb brushed across her bottom lip.
Her breath hitched.
"You smile too easily," he murmured.
"I was being polite."
His thumb pressed slightly firmer, dragging her lower lip down just enough to make her inhale sharply. "Polite."
Then his mouth claimed hers.
The kiss was slow and intentional. Possessive without being rushed. His hand slid to the back of her neck, holding her there as his lips moved against hers with controlled hunger. Her fingers fisted into his shirt as he deepened the kiss, tasting her like something already his.
His teeth caught her lower lip—not enough to wound, just enough to sting.
She gasped softly.
He pulled back slightly, his thumb brushing over the spot he had bitten. His crimson eyes searched hers. "Have you learned your lesson?" he asked quietly.
"And what lesson is that?" she whispered.
"That I do not share."
His thumb traced her lip again, gentler now. "You may speak. You may smile. But do not let another man forget who you belong to."
"And if I do?" she asked softly.
His gaze deepened. "Then I will remind you."
He kissed her again—slower, deeper, deliberate. When he finally pulled away, her lips were slightly swollen, her breathing unsteady.