My Reluctant Plaything
He looked down, dark eyes burning, hand pressing against the wall beside Nico’s head.
“Three days you tried to escape me,” Damien murmured. “And now look at you. Kneeling for me. Pleasuring me. Worrying when a bullet grazes my side. Tell me, Nico, what does that make you?”
Nico clenched his jaw. “It makes me human.”
“No,” Damien whispered, leaning closer, his breath hot against Nico’s lips. “It makes you mine.”
The words hit like a brand. Nico shoved him back, furious, but Damien only laughed, low and rough. His hand shot forward, gripping Nico’s throat, pushing him against the wall. Not hard enough to choke—just enough to remind him who held control.