​Chapter 4: Marking the Sin

​The bathroom was a sanctuary of black marble and gold fixtures, filled with the scent of vanilla and expensive oils. I had soaked until my skin was flushed, trying to wash away the feeling of Betty’s house, the smell of Dante’s greed, and the fear of the High Council. But I couldn't wash away the heat Malakai had left on my skin.

​I stepped into the dressing room and found exactly what he had promised. Rows of silk, lace, and sheer fabrics. I chose a black lace slip that left very little to the imagination. It felt like a "sin" against my skin—light, dangerous, and provocative.

​As I walked back into the bedroom, the fire had burned down to glowing embers. Malakai was standing by the window, a glass of dark amber liquid in his hand. He had stripped off his tactical shirt, leaving his broad chest bare. In the dim light, his tattoos looked like living shadows, moving with every breath he took.

​He heard me enter but didn't turn around immediately. "You’re late, Leona," he said, his voice a low, "furious" rumble.

​"I didn't think you were a man who kept a clock," I replied, my voice steadier than I felt.

​He turned then, and the look in his eyes made me stop dead in my tracks. It wasn't just hunger; it was a "no joke" obsession. His gaze traveled from my damp hair down to the lace covering my breasts, then lower to where the silk ended mid-thigh. He set his glass down on the mantle with a heavy thud.

​"I’ve spent a decade keeping a clock," he said, walking toward me with the slow, deliberate pace of a wolf. "Counting the minutes until you were old enough. Counting the seconds until I could take you away from that 'bitch ass' mother of yours. I don't want to wait another heartbeat."

​He stopped inches from me. The heat coming off his bare skin was electric. I reached out, my fingers trembling as I touched the ink on his chest—a dark dragon that seemed to wrap around his ribs. "They say you’re a 'sex freak,' Malakai. They say you don’t know how to stop once you start."

​He let out a dark, guttural laugh and grabbed my wrists, pinning them behind my back. He pulled me flush against him, my soft curves meeting his rock-hard muscle. The "spark" between us exploded into a wildfire.

​"They’re right," he whispered, his lips grazing my jawline. "I don’t want to just love you, Leona. I want to consume you. I want to mark every inch of this beautiful skin until the whole world knows you belong to a monster."

​He leaned down, finally claiming my lips in a kiss that was "furious" and possessive. It tasted like bourbon and dark promises. I gasped into his mouth, my hands tangling in his dark hair as I pulled him closer. I didn't want a "nice" brother. I didn't want a "nice" life. I wanted the man who had turned the world into a "bloodbath" just to hold me.

​His hands slid down my back, his touch firm and demanding, before he lifted me up. I wrapped my legs around his waist, my heart drumming a frantic rhythm against his chest. He carried me toward the massive bed, his eyes never leaving mine.

​"Tonight is the beginning of our sin, Princess," he muttered against my neck, his teeth grazing my skin just enough to leave a mark. "And I’m going to make sure you enjoy every second of the fall."

​I lay back against the dark silk sheets, watching him tower over me. The High Council might be looking for us, and Betty might be screaming for her money, but in this room, under Malakai’s gaze, I was finally the Queen of my own dark destiny.