Todos los capítulos de The Devil's Forbidden Obsession: Capítulo 11 - Capítulo 20

SELENE’S POVThe morning light streamed through the tall windows, gilding the edges of the silk sheets and painting the room in a soft, golden warmth that felt almost unreal after the darkness and violence of the night before. Beside me, Lorenzo slept—deeply, for the first time in days, his breathing steady and slow, his strong chest rising and falling with a quiet rhythm I had come to cherish more than anything. His face, usually so stern and guarded when awake, looked peaceful in sleep; the lines of tension around his eyes and mouth had softened, though the dark bruise along his jaw and the fresh bandage on his shoulder stood as silent reminders of everything we had survived.I lay perfectly still, careful not to disturb him, my elbow propped beneath my head as I watched him. My mind drifted back—over every step that had led me here: the heartbreak with Adrian, the humiliation, the fear that I would never find my place in a world that felt so cold and unforgiving. Then Lorenzo—fierc

SELENE’S POVThe rhythm of our days at the villa unfolded slowly, measured not by calendars or hurried schedules, but by the quiet, unchanging pace of the tide and the sun’s slow arc across the sky. There was no rushing forward, no skipping ahead to weeks or months as if time were merely a hurdle to clear; instead, we lived fully in each morning, each afternoon, each quiet evening, letting moments deepen and settle like fine wine. We did not jump from one milestone to the next—we walked, we talked, we rested, we watched the light shift across the white walls and the blue water, and in that slowness, every feeling felt truer, every bond stronger.The morning began not with alarms or urgent knocks, but with the soft, golden spill of sunlight through the tall glass doors and the steady, rhythmic sound of waves lapping against the cliffs far below. I woke slowly, my body warm and heavy with rest, my cheek pressed to Lorenzo’s chest. His breathing was deep and even, his arm draped heavily

SELENE’S POV The rain had softened to a fine, misty dawn by the time I opened my eyes. The room was still dim, touched only by the pale gray light seeping through the glass doors, and for a moment, I lay suspended between sleep and wakefulness, listening to the quiet rhythm of Lorenzo’s breathing beside me. His arm was draped heavily over my waist, his hand resting warm and firm just above my hip—a habit he had never broken, even in the deepest rest, as if his subconscious needed to know I was still there, still safe. I turned my head slightly to look at him. In this quiet light, the sharp lines of his face were softened—no hard edge of command, no guarded wariness, only the peace of a man who had finally laid down his burden. The faint scar above his eyebrow was pale against his skin, the dark lashes resting gently on his cheeks, his hair tousled from sleep. I wanted to reach out, to trace the curve of his mouth, but I held back, afraid to break the stillness. These quiet moments b

SELENE’S POVThe night lingered soft and quiet, the air cool and scented with sea salt and jasmine, but when I woke, the first thing I noticed was a subtle shift in the light—brighter, clearer, spilling over the edge of the bed in wide, golden streaks. Lorenzo was already awake, propped up on one elbow beside me, his dark eyes tracing my face with that quiet, unwavering focus he seemed to reserve only for me. His hand rested gently on my waist, warm and steady through the thin fabric of my nightdress, as if he had been watching me sleep for hours, content to simply exist in the same space.“You were dreaming,” he murmured, his voice low and soft, careful not to break the morning calm. “You smiled.”I stretched slowly, the sheets sliding soft against my skin, and turned fully toward him, the memory of the dream fading but its warmth lingering—bright, sunlit, full of his voice and laughter.“It was a good one,” I whispered, reaching up to brush a stray lock of dark hair back from his fo

SELENE’S POVThe first light of dawn touched the room not with a rush, but as a soft, pale glow seeping through the edges of the linen curtains, quiet and tentative. I woke slowly, drifting upward from a dream where there was only warmth and the endless sound of waves, conscious before anything else of the solid, comforting weight of Lorenzo beside me. His arm was draped over my waist, his hand resting flat against my side, his breathing deep and even against the back of my neck. The air in the room was cool, carrying the faint, briny scent of the open sea, and for a long moment, I did not move. I simply lay there, listening to the quiet rhythm of the house and the steady beat of his heart beneath my ear, grateful beyond words for this fragile, perfect peace.When I shifted slightly, his arm tightened instinctively, and a moment later, his breathing changed. He did not startle awake—he never did; his rest was deep but guarded, honed by years of discipline and command. His eyes opened