The dining hall was quiet at first, the air heavy with unspoken rules. Diana sat beside him, their hands brushing lightly under the table, a small reassurance. His family's eyes were sharp, measuring, judging.
"You've allowed… too much," his father said finally, his voice like steel. "She is supposed to be for the family line, nothing more. You've spoiled her."
A cousin scoffed, leaning forward. "You've forgotten your place, brother. She is just a provider of heirs. Do not mistake her for… anything else."
He slammed his palm on the table, the sound echoing through the hall. Chairs rattled. Every family member froze for the briefest moment, and his eyes burned into them.
"No!" His voice was low, vibrating with a mix of fury and something softer, something intimate. "She is not just for the family line. She is… mine. And I… love her."
A hush fell. Even the servants stopped, glancing nervously at the man who had never raised his voice like this before.
Diana's eyes widened. His hand found hers under the table, squeezing gently. The warmth of his grip sent a flutter through her chest.
"I will not—" he continued, his gaze unwavering, "—allow anyone, not even my family, to treat her as property. She is the one I love. The one I chose. The one who carries my child, yes, but she is so much more than that. And I… will not compromise her for tradition. Not for legacy. Not for anyone."
Her breath caught. She saw the fire in his eyes, the vulnerability in his expression that no one else ever witnessed. It wasn't just anger—it was devotion, protection, and a deep, unshakable affection.
He leaned forward, lowering his voice so only she could hear. "Diana… do you understand? You are mine—not as a servant, not as an object, but as my love. And I will show it every day, in every way I can."
Her cheeks flushed, her heart hammering. She had never heard him speak like this—not even in private moments. His admission wasn't casual. It was a promise, a shield, a declaration that cut through all the rules and expectations of his family.
Slowly, he reached across the table, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. His fingers lingered, gentle, protective. "I will not let anyone take you from me. Not them. Not fate. Not even… yourself, if you ever doubt it."
Diana's lips trembled slightly, a mixture of awe, relief, and something deeper—love mirrored back at her. She squeezed his hand under the table, eyes locking on his. "I… I love you too," she whispered.
He leaned closer, close enough that she could feel the warmth of his breath, the steady thrum of his heartbeat against hers. His lips brushed her temple softly, not claiming, not demanding—just a tender, intimate seal of his promise.
"You are my world, Diana. And nothing will ever change that," he murmured, his voice almost a purr, a low vibration that made her shiver with comfort and desire.
The room seemed to fall away. His family's disapproval, the weight of tradition, even the heavy walls of the villa—all vanished. There was only them. Only this moment. Only the undeniable truth of their bond.
She leaned into him, her head resting briefly on his shoulder, feeling the unyielding strength and soft warmth of the man she loved. And in that instant, she knew, without a doubt, that she was not just chosen—she was cherished. Loved. Wanted. And nothing, not even the expectations of centuries, could take that away.
...
The family remained seated, stunned. Whispers fluttered like restless birds, but none dared challenge him again—not tonight. He leaned back slightly, dark eyes still flicking to Diana, making it clear she was untouchable.
"Bring her some tea," he commanded, his voice calm but firm, and the servants hurried, eyes wide with caution. Even the family waited, knowing it was useless to argue when he held that quiet, predatory authority.
Diana, feeling the warmth of his hand still brushing hers under the table, gave him a small smile. It was not the timid smile of a girl under scrutiny—it was the smile of someone feeling safe, cherished, and seen.
After the meal, he rose first, sweeping past the stunned relatives. He gestured for her to follow, his long strides measured, almost cat-like, as though he were circling his territory. Diana hurried to keep up, marveling at the control in his movements. Even in human form, there was a sleek, fluid grace in everything he did.
Once they were alone in the villa corridor, he stopped and turned to her, a low rumble in his throat that was more than just a sigh—it was instinct, almost animalistic, protective. "Do you understand?" he asked softly, brushing a stray hair from her face. "No one will touch you, Diana. Not while I'm here."
Her heart thumped, a mixture of admiration and excitement. "I… I understand," she murmured, letting herself relax in the certainty of his words.
He circled her slowly, his gaze sweeping the hallway as though marking it. She realized, almost instinctively, that he was surveying every corner, every shadow, his mind alert for threats. A twitch of his fingers, a shift of his shoulders—subtle, but unmistakable cat-like behavior.
"Do you see that?" he asked quietly, leaning down slightly so his voice was just for her. "Even my family—they cannot match me. I can keep you safe. Always."
She looked up at him, the mixture of awe and trust in her eyes catching him off guard for a fraction of a second. A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips, softer than she had ever seen. He reached out, holding her hand against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart—powerful, confident, protective.
"And yet," he said, almost teasing, "you make me… softer than I ever thought possible." His dark eyes softened, the predator within him giving way to the man who cherished her.
Diana's lips curved into a gentle smile, and she leaned into him, letting her head rest briefly against his shoulder. His tail—or the echo of it in his movements—twitching ever so slightly, almost like a cat curling around what it treasured.
He hummed softly, a vibration that resonated through her. "You'll see," he murmured, more to himself than her. "This world… it is dangerous, yes. But you, and this child, are mine. And I… will protect you both."
For a moment, she felt him close, human warmth and animal instinct combined. She placed her hand over his chest, feeling the thrum beneath his skin. She realized this man—her man—was far more than a protector. He was a sanctuary unto himself.
And as they stood there, alone in the quiet corridor, the villa seemed to shrink around them. The world outside could rage, threaten, and judge. But here, together, they were untouchable.