The Dark Trinity

Chapter 24

The air in the chamber was thick with something unspoken, heavy with tension that neither of them could ignore. The flickering light of the torches cast deep shadows across the stone walls, illuminating the sharp angles of Viktor’s face as he loomed over Amelia, his body a solid wall of heat and power. He said nothing. 

That silence unnerved her. 

He had always been a man of few words, but this—this was different. His eyes were darker than she had ever seen them, hooded with something dangerous, something primal. He was studying her as though she were a puzzle to be unraveled, a conquest yet to be claimed. 

Amelia’s breath was shallow, her body rigid beneath him as she lay back against the bed, her thick dark hair spilling over the pillows. She could feel the heat radiating off him, the sheer presence of him suffocating in the most intoxicating way. His broad shoulders casting shadows over her, his expression unreadable as his gaze raked over her form. 

Her heart pounded. 

“Viktor,” she whispered, unsure whether it was a plea or a warning. 

Still, he said nothing. 

Instead, his hands moved—slow, deliberate. The first touch was featherlight, a ghost of a caress along her collarbone, trailing downward, leaving goosebumps in its wake. She shivered beneath him, her body reacting before her mind could catch up. His calloused fingers traced the delicate fabric of her gown, teasing the edges, barely skimming the skin beneath. 

Amelia swallowed hard. She should stop this. She wanted to push him away. But her body betrayed her, her breath quickening as his fingers dipped lower, brushing the swell of her breast over the thin material. 

Then, without warning, Viktor gripped the fabric. 

A sharp gasp escaped her lips as he tore the gown open in one brutal motion, the sound of ripping cloth echoing in the chamber. 

Amelia’s body stiffened, her chest heaving as cool air kissed her newly exposed skin. The remnants of her gown slipped from her shoulders, pooling around her waist, leaving her bare from the waist up. 

Viktor exhaled harshly, his restraint wavering. 

She saw it in his eyes—that raw, unfiltered hunger. 

His gaze devoured her. He took in every inch of her, every soft curve, every peak and hollow, as though committing her to memory. His fingers flexed at his sides, as if resisting the urge to touch her all at once. 

“Fuck,” he murmured, almost reverently. 

The word sent a shiver racing down her spine. 

Slowly, agonizingly slow, his hands finally moved to her body, tracing the swell of her breasts with the lightest of touches. His palms were rough, calloused from years of battle, and against her soft, sensitive skin, the contrast was overwhelming. 

Amelia bit her lip, her back arching slightly as he cupped her, his thumbs brushing over her hardened nipples. A quiet moan slipped from her lips before she could stop it. 

Viktor growled—a deep, guttural sound that made her insides clench. 

Then his mouth was on her. 

Hot, wet, demanding. His lips closed around one nipple, his tongue flicking over the sensitive bud before he sucked it into his mouth. Amelia gasped, her fingers tangling in his thick hair, his tongue swirling, his teeth grazing just enough to make her squirm. 

His other hand slid lower, over the curve of her waist, his fingers tracing the last piece of fabric separating them. With a slow, measured movement, he dragged her gown further down, baring inch after inch of her trembling body.