A Touch of Shadow: The Duke's Obsession

Her entire body went rigid.

That familiar scent... Cedarwood, cold and clean, tinged with the faint metallic trace of blood.

"Rhaegar?"

He did not answer. Instead, he buried his face deeper into the hollow of her neck, his breathing heavy, each slow exhale brushing hot against her skin.

Caelith let out a quiet breath of relief. "When did you return? Why did you not light the lamp?"

Still, he said nothing. He only tightened his hold around her waist.

At once, she sensed something was wrong. Turning within his embrace, she looked up at him in the darkness.

She could not make out his features clearly—only those eyes, impossibly bright in the night, like embers smoldering beneath ash.

"Rhaegar... what is the matter?"

At last, he spoke, but his voice was hoarse, threaded with exhaustion. "Where did you go today?"

Caelith paused for a moment before answering. "I visited the Ostenton residence. Lord Ostenton Senior invited me to dinner to thank me for saving him years ago."

His arms tightened slightly. "Were you there with Lucas Ostenton?"

"...Yes. He escorted me back."

Another stretch of silence.

In the darkness, his breathing grew heavier still.

Then he spoke again. "Caelith."

"Mm?"

"What did I tell you before?"

She blinked, caught off guard. "What do you mean?"

He lowered his head, his lips brushing lightly against her ear as he murmured in a low, restrained voice, "I told you... I do not like seeing you with him."

Caelith’s heartbeat faltered for a moment.

"Rhaegar, it was his grandfather’s invitation. The old gentleman meant only to show his gratitude. Lucas merely—"

"Merely what?" His voice was soft—so soft it sent an uneasy chill through her chest. "Merely escorted you home? Merely stood at the gate watching you? Merely looked at you with those craving eyes?"

Caelith drew in a slow breath. "Rhaegar, must you always be like this?"

"Like what?"

"Always doubting me." A sharper note entered her voice. "There is nothing between Lord Lucas and me. He is himself, and I am myself. I went tonight because his grandfather invited me. If that displeases you so greatly, then I simply will not go again."

He did not speak, he only kept looking at her, dark and quiet. In the darkness, his eyes burned too brightly—bright enough to set a fir within her heart.

"Rhaegar..."

Without warning, he lowered his head and kissed her. The kiss was hard, fierce, claiming, possessive. It was filled with a violence she had never before seen in him.

The force of it stole her breath. Her hands pressed against his chest, trying to push him away to get some air.

He did not move in the slightest.

One hand locked behind her neck, the other gripped her wrist, pinning her completely within his embrace.

Only after a long while did he release her lips. Yet he did not draw back. His mouth remained close to hers, their breaths tangled together in the darkness.

"Caelith." His voice had become unbearably hoarse.

Breathing unevenly, she stared up at him.

"Do you not know?" he murmured. "I am a madman."

She froze.

He looked directly into her eyes, speaking each word with terrible clarity.

"Ever since I was young, I knew I was not like other people. What others desire, I can discard without care. What others cherish, I can ignore completely." His gaze darkened. "But anything I truly want... I will have, no matter the cost."

His hand rose to cup her face. "Do you know what I was thinking when I saw you smiling at him?"

She remained silent.

"I was thinking... that if he dared look at you like that again, I would kill him without batting an eye."

Her eyes widened, heartbeat drumming in her ears. "Rhaegar..."

"I mean it," he cut in, his eyes fixed unwaveringly upon her. "I cannot endure anyone coveting you. Not even a single glance is allowed."

Then he lowered his head once more and kissed her again. This time, even more fiercely than before.

The kiss left her dizzy, breathless. Her fingers clenched tightly around his sleeve, unable to decide whether she wished to push him away or hold onto him instead.

She tried to push him away, but his embrace was too tight—so tight that even her ribs began to ache. She wanted to speak, yet he gave her no chance. His lips parted hers forcefully, his kiss deep and consuming, as though he meant to devour her whole.

He had never kissed her like this before.

This was not the possessive hunger she had grown accustomed to, but something far more dangerous—anger, unrest, and something she could not fully name. It felt like fear of losing her... and at the same time, like punishment.

She struggled weakly in his arms, pressing her hands against his chest, trying to force him back.

He did not move.

At last, after what felt like an eternity, he released her lips.

She gasped for air, glaring at him through uneven breaths.

"Rhaegar... have you lost your mind?"

He looked at her in silence. Moonlight slipped through the narrow gaps of the window lattice, falling across his face. Those dark eyes shone with an almost frightening intensity.

"I have," he said quietly. "I lost it long ago."

Caelith stared at him, stunned.

Then he reached into the pocket of his coat and withdrew a thin leather cord.

Caelith gasped––she had seen it before.

"Rhaegar... you wouldn’t dare—"

Before she could finish, he caught her wrist.

The leather wound around it once, then again—not painfully tight, yet impossible to break free from.

She lowered her gaze to her bound wrists, then looked back at him. "What are you doing?"

He did not answer. Instead, he tied the other end of the cord to the bedpost.

There was nowhere left for her to move.

She lay upon the bed, wrists bound above her head, utterly exposed before his gaze.

The posture filled her with burning shame.

"Rhaegar, let go of me!"

Still, he said nothing. He stood at the bedside, looking down at her as if enjoying a work of art.

The moonlight illuminated half his face, deepening the shadows in his eyes. Within them churned anger, possessiveness, and a darkness she had never before seen in him—something that made her heart tremble like a leaf caught in the storm.

For the first time, she actually felt a flicker of fear.