Now that Portia had left, the room seemed to hold its breath, the silence settling like a heavy cloak. I turned slowly, deliberately, my gaze meeting Valdemar's with unflinching resolve. Through the blindfold, my blue eyes gleamed, bright as shards of sapphire, their intensity undeniable even beneath the thin, suffocating fabric.

Valdemar took a step closer, his presence an oppressive weight, like the shadow of a storm before it bursts. The eerie, almost playful grin never faltered from his lips, a twisted thing that hinted at the cruelty lurking beneath the surface. His long, chilling fingers, pale as moonlight and as cold as the grave, reached toward me, and the air between us thickened with the promise of something dangerous.

With a softness that betrayed the malice in his touch, he cupped my cheek, his fingers skimming over my skin like the caress of a predator. His touch, though gentle, sent an unsettling shiver down my spine, an invitation to step closer into the web he spun.

"Now, be a darling," he purred, his voice low, a velvet threat wrapped in sweet poison. "Take off that horrid blindfold, won't you? I want to see your eyes."

The words dripped from his lips like honey, sweet and coaxing, yet tainted with something far darker. It was not a request—it was a command, masked in the illusion of a gentle request.

My head tilted ever so slightly, a silent question woven into the intensity of my gaze. Valdemar's grin, already unsettling, deepened—darkening with something far more personal, far more intimate than I cared to acknowledge.

"Yeah, I do," he purred, his voice low, almost conspiratorial. "You know, I've caught glimpses of them—whenever you've shown your master, Julian, or anyone, really." His smile stretched further, twisted with something almost predatory. "I've been eating you, dear."

The words hit like a slow, deliberate poison, curling through the air and settling in the pit of my stomach. They were heavy with meaning, with intent, as if he were savoring the mere thought of it. His eyes flickered with something too dark to be labeled as simple curiosity. No, this was obsession, an infatuation wrapped in malevolent desire.

He leaned in closer, far too close, the space between us shrinking until I could feel the heat of his breath ghosting against my skin. The world seemed to hold its breath, our proximity hanging in the balance, as if a single move could ignite something unspeakable.

"Please," he whispered, the word a caress that slithered into my ear, soft and chilling all at once. My body tensed, a sharp shiver running down my spine, and I flinched—completely involuntary, a reaction that betrayed me in the face of his unexpected vulnerability.

I never imagined that Questor Valdemar, the master of control, the orchestrator of schemes, would ever stoop so low as to beg for something as simple, as human, as this. But there he was, eyes wide with something raw, waiting for me to indulge him, to give him this small victory. It was a rare moment, one that caught me off guard, shattering the careful walls I had built around myself.

Reluctantly, almost against my will, I reached up, my fingers brushing the edges of the blindfold. It seemed like the entire room exhaled as I undid the knot, releasing the cloth with a soft pull. As it fell away, the air between us shifted, thickening with the weight of the moment. His gaze locked with mine—no longer veiled, no longer hidden by fabric, but bare and unflinching.

His eyes, pale and hungry, found their match in the depths of my own—Sapphire's eyes. Eyes that shimmered with a dangerous intensity, eyes that mirrored the storm of emotions swirling within me. The connection between us was palpable, something beyond simple words or gestures. It was as if, in that single moment, everything he'd whispered, everything he'd longed for, was held in the depths of my gaze.

He closed the final gap between us, his presence overwhelming, and for a moment, the world seemed to narrow to just the two of us. His breath, warm and tinged with something darker, washed over me as he leaned even closer. Our lips hovered on the edge of contact, the air between us thick with anticipation, tension coiling like a live wire.

"There, you're my little gem, my Sapphire," he whispered, his voice a low, dangerous purr, the words sliding over my skin like silk. The softness of his tone betrayed nothing of the darkness that lay behind it, a shadow lurking beneath the surface, waiting for its moment to strike.

Before I could even react, before I could breathe in the final vestige of control, he acted. With a sudden, almost predatory movement, he captured my lips with his. The force of it was unexpected, taking me by surprise as his cold, unforgiving touch pressed against me. It was an invasion of sorts, the kiss not gentle but demanding, as if he was staking his claim. His lips were bruising, relentless, and as he pulled me closer, the world outside the bubble of our tangled existence seemed to fall away, leaving nothing but the weight of his kiss and the fire that began to smolder beneath it.