The room was still silent.
The tension was suffocating, pressing down on every single person present. No one dared to speak, not even Lucan, who had been standing to the side, watching the entire thing unfold with a look of quiet amusement.
But Kael…
Kael was far from amused.
Esme was still standing there, her fists clenched, her breathing uneven. He could tell she was trying to maintain her composure, but the slight tremble in her fingers gave her away.
She had acted on impulse.
She hadn't planned to slap Sophia—hadn't even thought about it.
But she had.
And that changed everything.
Kael took a step forward.
Esme didn't move.
Another step.
She lifted her chin slightly, her gaze defiant, but he saw the way her pulse quickened at her throat.
She was waiting for him to say something.
To yell.
To reprimand her for what she had done.
But Kael did none of those things.
Instead, he reached out, his fingers curling around her wrist. His grip was firm, but not harsh, his thumb brushing over the soft skin of her pulse point.
Esme sucked in a breath.
His touch burned.
He didn't say a word as he started walking, pulling her with him.
"Kael—" she started, but he didn't stop.
Didn't even glance at her.
The guests watched in stunned silence as he led Esme through the crowd, through the doors, away from the prying eyes and whispers.
Away from everyone.
Lucan smirked but said nothing as Kael passed by.
Charlotte blinked, looking between Esme and Kael, as if debating whether or not to intervene.
Mama simply folded her arms, watching with an expression that betrayed nothing.
And then—
The doors shut behind them.
The noise from the ballroom disappeared, replaced by nothing but silence.
Finally, Kael stopped.
Esme yanked her wrist out of his grasp, her eyes flashing with anger. "What the hell was that? Where are we—"
She didn't get to finish.
Because in the next second, Kael had her pinned against the nearest wall, his arms bracketing her in, his body just inches from hers.
Esme sucked in a sharp breath, her heart slamming against her ribs.
"What do you think you're doing?" she demanded, her voice unsteady.
Kael tilted his head slightly, his black eyes unreadable. "That's my question to you, wife."
Esme flinched at the way he said it. Not mockingly. Not coldly.
But possessively.
Kael leaned in, so close that his breath fanned against her cheek. "Do you have any idea what you just did back there?"
Esme swallowed hard.
She had embarrassed herself. Had acted without thinking. Had done something she never thought she would ever do for a man like Kael.
But she wouldn't back down.
"I did what you should have done," she shot back. "You stood there and let her touch you like that—"
"And you thought slapping her would prove something?"
"I thought I was making a point," Esme said, lifting her chin defiantly. "I thought I was making it clear that you belong to me."
Kael's lips curled at that, a dark amusement flickering in his gaze. "I belong to you?"
"Yes."
Silence.
Something shifted in the air between them, something electric and dangerous.
Kael reached up, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face, his touch featherlight. "Careful, Esme," he murmured. "If you claim me, that means you're mine too."
Esme's breath hitched.
His fingers trailed lower, down her jaw, to her throat, resting lightly just over her pulse.
Thump-thump.
Thump-thump.
Her heart was beating so damn fast.
Kael's voice was low, almost a whisper. "Are you ready for that?"
Esme had no answer.
And Kael…
Kael knew it. Oh how he enjoyed toying with her mind…
****. ****. ****.