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Coups de cœur Cultura
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I didn't agree to be kept. I didn't sign up for the locks on the outside of my door, the bodyguard shadowing my every step, or the man who called me his like it was a law of nature. But here I am—installed in Cole's penthouse, eating his food, sleeping in his bed, and fighting the pull of his hands on my body every damn night.
He says it's for my protection. The Syndicate wants something from him, and I'm the leverage they didn't expect. But the way he looks at me—hunger, possession, something terrifyingly close to devotion—tells me protection isn't the only thing he's after. He wants to own me. Completely. Permanently.
I should run. Every survival instinct I have screams at me to get out before I lose the pieces of myself I've managed to hold onto. But then he pins me against the wall, his mouth on my throat, his voice rough with need, and my body betrays every rational thought I've ever had.
Until the night his teeth sink into my skin, leaving a mark the world can see. A brand. A claim. Proof that I belong to him now—whether I'm ready to admit it or not.
