EPISODE 3:

The Garden Encounter

The night air was cool against Evelina’s flushed skin as she slipped through the French doors of the ballroom. Music and laughter still swelled within, but out here, beneath the velvet sky and silver moonlight, the world felt hushed, expectant.

Her slippers crunched softly against gravel as she crossed the lantern-lit path toward the east garden. Each step felt both reckless and inevitable, her heart pounding louder than the orchestra’s strings. She should not be here—every rule of propriety warned her away—but Damian’s voice haunted her: Come, or spend the rest of the night wondering.

And she was tired of wondering.

The garden stretched out in fragrant shadows, roses heavy with bloom, hedges forming secret alcoves where scandal might hide. She paused beneath an arch of ivy, breath shallow, listening.

“You came.”

His voice melted from the darkness, low and rich as velvet. Then he emerged, tall and imposing, his black coat blending into the night until only his pale skin and hungry eyes caught the moonlight.

“I should not have,” Evelina whispered, though her body leaned toward him as though it already belonged there.

Damian closed the distance with measured strides. “And yet here you stand, trembling for me.”

Her lips parted, but no denial came. When he reached her, he lifted her chin with one gloved hand, tilting her face until her eyes met his. The intensity in his gaze stripped her bare, unraveling every wall she had built.

“Do you know what it means,” he murmured, his thumb brushing her jaw, “to seek me out in the shadows? Once you step into my arms, Evelina, I will not let you go unchanged.”

Her breath hitched. “Perhaps I do not wish to remain unchanged.”

That was all he needed.

His mouth descended on hers, and the world dissolved. His kiss was no gentleman’s courtesy—it was a claim, deep and consuming, his tongue sliding against hers with sinful mastery. Evelina moaned softly into his mouth, her hands clutching his coat as though to anchor herself.

Damian pressed her against the ivy-draped wall, his body firm, unyielding. His hand slid from her chin to the curve of her waist, fingers splaying possessively, drawing her hips closer to his. The heat of him seared through her gown, awakening a fire she had never known.

She gasped when his lips left hers only to trail lower, grazing the tender line of her throat. Each kiss was a scorch, each scrape of his teeth a promise of ruin.

“Damian…” her voice broke, a plea more than a protest.

He caught her lips again, swallowing her whisper, his kiss deepening until she felt she might dissolve entirely. Only when her knees weakened did he finally pull back, his forehead resting against hers, his breath ragged.

“You taste of defiance,” he growled softly, “and I will have more of it.”

Before she could respond, he released her, stepping back into the shadows, leaving her trembling, lips swollen, and utterly undone beneath the moonlight.

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