I should’ve screamed.

I should’ve shoved her off, clawed at her throat, anything — anything but this.

But I couldn’t move. Not when her body was pressing me down, pinning me to the wall like I was something she owned. Her hand — ice-cold and deliberate — slid up beneath my shirt, the chill of her touch ripping a shiver from deep in my spine.

“I thought you hated touching me,” I breathed, voice trembling like a wire about to snap.

Her lips hovered by my ear, not kissing, just breathing — hot against the shell while her hand explored the contrast of my heat with her frost.

“I do,” she whispered, her voice like glass breaking softly in velvet. “But I also hate how much I want to.”

Her fingers curled around my waist, the cold sinking into my skin like poison and pleasure all at once. I gasped. My knees wobbled, but she held me up — of course she did. She always had control.

"You think I don’t see the way you look at me?" she murmured, her nails grazing down my ribs.

"Like you’re waiting for me to snap."

“I’m not afraid of you,” I lied.

“Mm.” She laughed, low and lethal. “But your body is.”

She wasn't wrong. My skin felt electric under her touch, but my pulse was wild, erratic. My heart didn’t know if this was war or seduction — or both.

I hated her.

God, I hated her.

So why was I arching into her hand like I wanted more?

Her grip on me loosened — just enough for me to breathe. Just enough to hope.

“Here’s a deal,” she purred, voice dipped in sin. “Kiss me, and I’ll let you go.”

I blinked up at her, heat burning my cheeks even as ice still bloomed beneath my skin from her touch. My lips parted, not to agree — but to curse her.

She raised a brow, smug. Like she knew I wouldn’t resist.

Fine.

If it was just a kiss… I could use it. Distract her.

She wanted a reaction? I’d give her one — and run the moment she let her guard down.

I rolled my eyes, feigning exhaustion. “One kiss. Then you back off.”

“Scout’s honor,” she smirked, clearly never been a scout in her villain life.

She was tall. Unfairly tall. I had to rise onto my toes, using the edge of her thick combat boot to boost myself up, balancing with a hand against her chest. Just a quick peck. Nothing more. Just enough to make her smug, arrogant, and distracted.

My lips brushed hers. Quick. Cold. Hollow.

But I didn’t even have time to step back.

Her hand snapped to the back of my neck — and the kiss changed. Deepened. Devoured.

She tilted her head, mouth crashing against mine with a hunger that was all teeth and heat. Before I could react, my feet weren’t even touching the ground.

She lifted me — effortlessly. Like I weighed nothing. My legs dangled midair, heart thundering in my chest as I gripped her shoulders out of pure reflex.

This wasn’t a kiss anymore.

It was a claim.

I whimpered into her mouth — from shock, from rage, from something dangerously close to want.

And when she finally pulled back, she didn’t put me down.

She smirked. “You should’ve known better than to play games with me, little girl.”

My breath hitched.

And I knew then — I wasn’t going anywhere.

She still hadn’t put me down.

Her arms were like steel, holding me midair like she wanted to etch me into her body. I opened my mouth to speak — to shove some kind of insult between us, anything to crack her smug expression —

“You really thought I wouldn’t find out?” she said, voice low and venomous.

My stomach flipped. “Find out what?”

She leaned in, lips brushing the corner of my jaw. “About your little date last night.”

Shit.

I froze, the panic immediate. How the hell did she know? I’d barely been gone two hours. It wasn’t even a real date — more like a petty act of rebellion with a dominant girl who flirted like she wanted a reaction.

But this?

This was the reaction.

“She’s not you,” I muttered, trying to wriggle from her grip.

“That’s the point, isn’t it?” Her voice cracked, just slightly. “You wanted someone easier. Someone who doesn’t terrify you.”

She was right. And I hated that she was.

Then without warning, her mouth was on mine again — but this time it wasn’t playful or teasing. This kiss was war. Desperate. Jealous. Her teeth scraped my bottom lip, tongue forcing past mine like she had something to prove — like she was erasing the taste of someone else.

I moaned into it before I could stop myself.

She growled.

“Mine,” she whispered harshly against my lips, her voice wrecked and wild. “I don’t care how much you pretend to hate me. I see the way you melt when I touch you.”

Her kiss deepened again — messy, possessive, breath-stealing. My legs were still in the air, her body holding me like she’d chain me to her soul if she could.

And the worst part?

I kissed her back.

Because no one had ever made me feel like this — terrified and wanted, fragile and owned.

And for one terrifying second, I didn’t want to escape.

I wanted to stay.

My lungs were screaming.

Her mouth was still on mine, stealing breath after breath like she needed it more than I did. The kiss had gone from jealous to punishing — too much tongue, too much teeth, too much of her. She was devouring me like I belonged between her lips, like she'd starve if she let me go.

I whimpered into her mouth, hands gripping her shoulders, trying to push her away — but she was all muscle and rage and obsession.

I pulled my head back, but she followed, refusing to let the kiss break.

“I… can’t—” I gasped against her mouth. “I need… air—please—”

She froze.

For a beat, her eyes stayed closed, forehead resting against mine, our ragged breaths mingling. Then she slowly set me down, my feet hitting the ground like it shocked the earth itself.

She stepped back an inch — just one — her eyes flicking down to my trembling lips, my flushed face, my hands still curled against her chest like I hadn’t figured out how to let go.

Her thumb brushed my swollen bottom lip. “Next time,” she said softly, darkly, “breathe before you kiss me like that.”

“I didn’t—” I started, but she cut me off with a quiet, dangerous laugh.

“You begged for air,” she whispered, leaning close again, her breath cold against my cheek. “But not once did you ask me to stop.”

I couldn’t speak. My heart was a hammer against my ribs. My thighs were shaking, and

not just from the kiss.

She looked at me like I was prey… but worse — like I liked being hunted.

And maybe I did.

Maybe I always had.