The moment her lips left his, Vincent didn't hesitate. He moved.
His arms wrapped around her in a tight embrace, pulling her against him with a force that left no room for resistance. His body, tense and burning with an emotion he couldn't name, pressed against hers as if he could fuse them together. His breath was heavy, his heart pounding so hard he could hear it in his ears, but none of that mattered.
Anastasia didn't push him away.
That alone was enough to drive him insane.
His face buried into the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent, memorizing the warmth of her skin against his. She smelled of winter and something deeper, something darker—something that had always drawn him in like an intoxicating drug.
She had kissed him first.
That single thought echoed through his mind like a mantra, over and over again, until nothing else existed.
She kissed him.
She wanted him.
She claimed him.
His fingers tightened around her waist, almost possessively. He couldn't let go. Not yet. Not when she was finally within his grasp.
Then, slowly, he pulled back just enough to see her face.
Anastasia's icy blue eyes met his, unreadable as ever, but this time… this time, there was something else hidden beneath them. Something she wasn't saying. Something she didn't want to acknowledge.
Vincent lifted a hand, cupping the side of her face with a gentleness that contradicted the storm raging inside him. His thumb brushed against her cheek, memorizing the softness of her skin, as if afraid she would disappear if he let go.
And then, without a single word, he kissed her.
This kiss was different.
It wasn't her taking—it was him giving.
It was slow, deep, lingering.
A silent confession.
A plea.
A promise.
Anastasia didn't move at first. She simply let him kiss her, let him pour everything he had into that one moment. His lips pressed against hers with a desperation he didn't bother hiding. She was the only thing that existed. The only thing that mattered.
Then, just when he thought she might push him away, her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt.
And she kissed him back.
A shudder ran through Vincent's body. His grip on her tightened, his other hand sliding up to the back of her neck as if to keep her there, as if to make sure she wouldn't disappear like a dream.
Her lips were just as cold as they were warm. A paradox. Just like her.
She was fire and ice, cruelty and beauty, heaven and hell.
And he wanted her.
He always had.
Her fingers curled tighter into his shirt before she suddenly pulled away, breaking the kiss just as swiftly as she had initiated the first one.
Vincent didn't let go.
His forehead rested against hers, his breathing uneven. His green eyes, darkened by emotion, stared into hers.
Anastasia's expression was unreadable again, but her body betrayed her. He could feel the way her chest rose and fell just a little too quickly. The way her lips were slightly parted.
He had won something tonight.
Not everything.
But something.
His lips brushed against her forehead, lingering there for just a second before he finally pulled away.
A small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "You're not going to tell me this meant nothing, are you?"
Anastasia's gaze hardened, but she didn't answer.
She didn't have to.
He already knew.
This wasn't the end.
This was just the beginning.