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princesssszzzz · 3 months ago

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The Thief and the Dragon

Pairing: Netty x Daemon

Warnings: Stalking & kidnapping

Word Count 7.3k

Nettles unknowingly steals from Daemon, sparking his obsessive interest in her. Modern!AU

Read on AO3

Nettles moved like a shadow through the dimly lit corridors of the high-rise, her footfalls silent against the plush black carpet. The city skyline stretched out beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, the lights of King's Landing casting a glow over the darkened room. This wasn’t her usual target.

She had always preferred the mansions of the old money elite, the ones who flaunted their wealth in the gated communities on the outskirts. But tonight, the opportunity was too good to pass up so here she was in the heart of the city, breaking into someone’s penthouse suite.

Her contact had assured her it would be simple. The diamonds in the living room were the target. She’d slipped past security with ease hours before, and spent her day hiding out in the maid’s closet before making her move.

Her nimble fingers disabled alarms and picked locks without a second thought. The team she usually worked with had been dragging their feet, but Nettles wasn’t one to wait around. If she was going to risk her life, she’d do it on her own terms.

She slipped into the living room, her gaze sweeping the space. Everything was sleek, modern, and obscenely expensive. The kind of wealth that practically dripped off the walls. On the coffee table sat a small collection of glittering stones. Diamonds, just as promised. Nettles allowed herself a small, satisfied smile as she quickly scooped them into a leather pouch at her waist.

“Too easy,” she muttered with a crooked smile, turning to make her exit.

She was halfway to the door when youthful curiosity got the better of her. It was always the downfall of a good thief, but Nettles couldn’t help herself. She paused, glancing back at the hallway leading deeper into the penthouse. What kind of people live here? What other treasures might they be hiding?

With a quick glance over her shoulder, she tiptoed down the hall. The first door she passed was closed, but the second was slightly ajar, a sliver of light spilling into the hallway. Nettles nudged it open with her foot and peered inside.

It was a bedroom, softly lit by a lamp on a nightstand. A girl with long silver hair slept soundly in the bed, her features serene, not having been awakened with Nettle’s almost cat like silent entrance. Nettles' heart skipped a beat. This wasn’t some faceless rich family. Whoever lived here had children, and from the looks of it, they were people who could afford to keep them in this kind of luxury.

On the nightstand beside the girl was something that caught Nettles’ eye. It was a small, round object glowing faintly pink and black. It was nestled under a heat lamp, like a precious artifact being carefully tended to.

Nettles stepped further into the room, her gaze shifting to the other side of the bed. There was another nightstand there and on it a similar object. This one silver and pale green, resting in a cradle of velvet. The bed beside it was empty, the covers neatly drawn back as if waiting for someone to return.

And that’s when it hit her. The hair, the wealth, the eggs. These weren’t just any rich kids. Nettles felt a jolt of fear as the realization sank in. This was Daemon Targaryen’s daughters’ room. The Targaryens—the most powerful family in the city. They ran everything from the government to the underworld. They weren’t supposed to be a part of the underworld, but Daemon himself was known to be ruthless, the head of the city’s security despite being the biggest criminal there.

She swallowed hard, mouth suddenly dried. She had heard the stories. How the Targaryens were the only ones who could touch the ancient dragon eggs without being burned alive. And here she was, standing in their home, her fingers itching to take one of the priceless eggs but her instincts screaming at her to get out while she still could.

Her thievery taking gems from the Lannister’s had cost her a scar on her nose. She knew getting caught robbing this family would cost her life.

Nettles backed away from the room, her heart racing. She had no intention of getting on Daemon Targaryen’s bad side but as she turned to leave, something caught her eye. In the corner of the living room, nestled under a spotlight, was another egg. This one brown and gold, with a rougher texture than the others. It seemed to pulse with warmth, and Nettles felt an inexplicable pull toward it, as if it was calling to her.

She hesitated, her fingers twitching. The diamonds were one thing, but a dragon egg? That was a whole different level of risk. And yet, Nettles had never been one to back down from a challenge.

Before she could talk herself out of it, she crossed the room and carefully lifted the egg from its pedestal. It was heavier than she expected, the heat seeping through her gloves and into her skin. But there was no pain but only a strange sense of connection, as if the egg was meant to be hers.

With the egg tucked away in her bag, Nettles made her way to the door. Her heart pounded in her ears as she slipped out into the hallway, moving swiftly but cautiously. She was almost there, almost free, when she passed the elevator, the doors began to slide open.

Nettles froze, her breath catching in her throat as she braced herself for whatever, or whoever, might be waiting on the other side.

Her heart pounded in her chest as the elevator doors slid open revealing a tall, imposing figure standing inside. Her breath hitched as she recognized him. Daemon Targaryen, the most dangerous man in King’s Landing. His reputation was well-earned, both as a ruthless enforcer of the law and the biggest criminal hiding in plain sight.

For a split second, Nettles considered bolting, but the cold, calculating look in his violet eyes told her that running would only make things worse. Instead, she did the only thing she could think of. She stepped into the elevator as if she belonged there, hoping against hope that he wouldn’t question her presence.

Daemon’s gaze traveled over her, taking in her simple clothing. It looked far too plain for someone who would live in a place like this. His eyes gleamed with amusement, a hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. Nettles could feel the heat rising in her cheeks, and she forced herself to remain calm, even as her mind raced for an explanation.

“Long night?” Daemon’s voice was smooth, with a hint of something dangerous beneath it. His gaze never left her.

“Uh, yeah,” Nettles replied, mentally cursing herself for the unsteady tone in her voice. She cleared her throat, trying to muster some confidence. “Just, um…picking up something for a friend.”

“A friend,” Daemon repeated, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Must be a very important friend, sending someone like you to do their dirty work.”

Nettles’ jaw clenched at the subtle insult, but she forced herself to smile. “I’m good at getting things done.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained by her response. “Is that so?”

“Yep,” she replied, finding a bit of her usual bravado. “People trust me with the important stuff.

Daemon chuckled, a low dangerous sound that sent a shiver down her spine. He didn’t say anything more, just continued to watch her with that predatory gaze, as if he were sizing her up and deciding what to do with her. Nettles tried to ignore the way his presence made her feel exposed, focusing instead on keeping her cool.

The elevator dinged, indicating it was ready to close its doors and Daemon pushed himself off the wall, moving closer to her. Nettles held her breath as he reached past her to leave, their proximity making the air between them crackle with tension. He paused for a moment, his face inches from hers and she could feel the heat of his body. The scent of something dark and intoxicating.

“Take care of yourself, little thief,” Daemon murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes flicked down to her bag for the briefest of moments, his expression unreadable.

Nettles blinked, stunned and too scared to speak. She could only look as he stepped out of the elevator, turning to watch her as the doors began to close. His gaze was sharp, piercing, and she couldn’t shake that he knew exactly what she had done.

The elevator doors slid shut, and Nettles exhaled a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding. As the elevator descended, her heart still raced but she was grateful to have escaped the encounter without incident. She still had her head. It wasn’t until she reached the first floor that she noticed her bag. Her fingers trembled as she realized the zipper had come slightly undone, revealing a glimpse of the brown and gold dragon egg nestled inside.

Her blood ran cold. Daemon had seen it. She knew he did. Yet, she hadn’t heard alarms blaring, nor had security come running to stop her. The doorman at the front entrance even gave her a polite nod as she walked out into the cool night air.

Confusion and panic warred within her. Why hadn’t Daemon stopped her? Why had he let her walk away so easily when he could have had her caught, or worse? As she stepped outside, she glanced up at the tall building. Her eyes found the small, dark security camera pointed in her direction. She knew, without a doubt, that Daemon was watching her. He was letting her go with a dragon egg in her possession.

Nettles swallowed hard, the weight of the egg in her bag suddenly heavier than before. She forced herself to keep walking, her pace measured and calm, even though her thoughts were anything but. She didn’t know why Daemon had spared her, but she knew one thing for certain: she had just made an enemy out of the most dangerous man in the city.

And for some reason, he had let her live to tell the tale.

Daemon Targaryen had always believed in the superiority of his bloodline. The Targaryens were special, destined, chosen by the gods to rule. How else could they be the only ones able to handle the ancient dragon eggs without being reduced to ashes?

It was a truth he had never questioned, a pillar of his identity as firm as the power he wielded over King's Landing. And yet, the memory of that night in the elevator, of the brown-haired girl who had stolen from him, gnawed at him with a curiosity that bordered on obsession.

He had seen the dragon egg in her bag. There was no mistaking it, and he didn’t imagine it. He was crazy but not that crazy. Instead of being incinerated by its touch, she had walked away unscathed casually sauntering through his lobby. It shouldn’t have been possible. Daemon replayed the scene in his mind over and over, each time more incredulous than the last. No one outside of his family had ever done such a thing and lived. Yet, this girl had.

Nettles. The name had rolled off his tongue when he asked around, using the shadowy networks of the city’s underworld to dig into her life. Daemon was no stranger to hunting down those who crossed him, but this time, it was different. He wasn’t after retribution. Wasn’t looking to take a head off. Not yet anyway. He was after something far more elusive. That girl. His thoughts kept returning to her. Her wide, brown startled eyes when she had first seen him in the elevator, the way she had fumbled through their brief exchange speaking like a low born girl before regaining her composure.

She was different, not like the polished, highborn women who usually caught his eye. Her hair wasn’t silver, but a dark mass of curls that framed her face like a wild halo. She wasn’t elegant in the way of the noble ladies he was used to, but there was something undeniably captivating about her. Something raw, untamed.

It unsettled him how often she crept into his thoughts. In the dead of night, when the city was quiet and even the most hardened criminals took a moment to breathe, Daemon found himself sitting in his office, staring at the security footage. He had watched it so many times that he knew every movement by heart. The way she had slipped past his defenses, the brief hesitation before she took the egg, the calm, deliberate way she had walked out as if she hadn’t just done the impossible.

He was fascinated by her audacity, her nerves, but most of all by the mystery of her survival. The egg accepted her touch. What was it about this girl, this thief from the streets, that made her different? It was a question that refused to leave him in peace, driving him to obsess over her.

Late one night, as the city below him slept, Daemon’s computer pinged with a new message. He leaned forward, opening the email from one of his men. His heart quickened as the contents loaded on the screen: her name, her address, and a long list of criminal activities. Her rap sheet was long.

Netty, they called her. That couldn’t have been her real name, just the street name she went by. Her last known location was in the poorest districts of the city, where the buildings leaned against each other like drunkards and the streets were a labyrinth of desperation. The criminal record was extensive, a testament to her skills. She had been stealing since she was a child, her methods growing more sophisticated with time. Each arrest had less and less evidence against her.

Daemon’s eyes scanned the list, noting the variety of her targets. It was mostly the rich and she was always careful, never staying in one place too long. Yet, she had never gone after anyone like him before. That night in his penthouse had been a first, he was sure of it. He wondered what had driven her to take such a risk, and why she had taken the egg when she could have just walked away with the diamonds.

He leaned back in his chair, a slow smile spreading across his lips. This girl Netty had done the impossible. She had touched a dragon egg and lived. And now that he knew where to find her, Daemon was determined to see her again.

As he closed the email, Daemon’s thoughts drifted back to the security camera footage. He could see her in his mind’s eye, standing in his penthouse, the dragon egg cradled in her arms. She had taken something from him, yes, but in doing so, she had given him something far more valuable. A new chase.

He would find her and when he did, Daemon would discover exactly what made this wild, curly-haired thief so special. And perhaps, just perhaps, he would let her keep what she had stolen. After all, she had managed to capture something far more dangerous than a dragon egg.

She had captured his attention.

Daemon found her in the deepest parts of the city, where the streets were as untamed as the girl who had stolen from him. Netty was in her element here, surrounded by the noise and chaos of the slums. She moved with a swagger that belied her small frame, her short curly hair framing a face that was both mischievous and defiant.

She was no longer the frightened girl he had cornered in the elevator. Here, she was a queen of the slums, commanding the respect of the rougher men around her. Despite all the jewels and money, she had stolen, she remained living here.

He watched her from the shadows, his eyes narrowed with a mix of intrigue and something darker. She wasn’t his type. He had always preferred the refined elegance of women with silver hair and a Valyrian last name.

But there was something about Nettles that drew him in, something raw and untamed that made his blood stir. He had never wanted anyone like her before, and that made this all the more dangerous.

Nettles sensed him before she saw him. A prickle at the back of her neck, a feeling that someone was watching. She turned and there he was, leaning casually against a wall. His eyes fixed on her like a predator sizing up its prey. She felt a thrill of fear mixed with excitement, but she didn’t let it show. Instead, she grinned, the kind of grin that dared him to come closer.

“Following me, old man?” she called out, her voice carrying over the din of the dirty street. “You got nothing better to do?”

Daemon pushed off the wall, his movements slow and deliberate. “You’ve been on my mind,” he said, his voice low, almost a purr. “I couldn’t stay away.”

Nettles snorted, crossing her arms over her chest. “That so? Must be losing your edge, chasing after little girls like me.”

His eyes darkened, but the smirk remained. “You’re not just any girl, are you? You’ve got a knack for getting under my skin.”

“Maybe I just remind you how old you’re getting,” she shot back, enjoying the way his jaw tightened.

He moved closer, and she could feel the heat of him, smell the expensive cologne that clung to his skin. “You’ve got a sharp tongue, Nettles. Or shall I say Netty? But you’re playing a dangerous game.”

She rolled her eyes at him trying to scare her by saying her name, but she didn't back down. “And you’re full of shit if you think I’m scared of you. You don’t scare me, Daemon Targaryen. You’re just another rich bastard who thinks he can do whatever he wants.”

His hand shot out, grabbing her wrist. Not hard, but firm enough to make her pulse quicken. “You should be scared,” he said softly, his eyes locked on hers. “You’re a criminal. I could kill you and no one would care.”

Nettles met his gaze, her heart pounding, but she refused to show any weakness. “You’re not going to kill me,” she said, her voice steady. “You’re having too much fun chasing me.”

Daemon chuckled, a low, dangerous sound that sent a shiver down her spine. “Maybe you’re right,” he said, pulling her closer. “Maybe I’m enjoying this a little too much.”

The tension between them crackled like electricity, and for a moment, she thought he was going to kiss her. Part of her wanted him to. Part of her wanted to see if the danger she felt around him was real, or if it was just another game.

But she wasn’t about to let him catch her. Not yet.

Just as his lips were about to brush hers, Nettles pulled away, slipping out of his grasp with a laugh. “Not so fast, old man,” she teased, taking a step back.

She turned to leave, but not before her nimble fingers slipped something from his pocket—a sleek, silver lighter engraved with his family crest. She waved it at him with a smirk before stuffing it into her pocket and away.

Daemon watched her go, a mix of amusement and frustration bubbling up inside him. She was playing with fire, and she knew it. But so was he.

He didn’t try to stop her. Not yet. Instead, he pulled out his phone and sent a quick text. She was bold, this one. But she wasn’t untouchable. As Nettles disappeared into the crowd, Daemon’s men moved in. They knew the plan, and they knew better than to question it. She’s a fast runner but wouldn’t get far.

She was halfway down the block when the black van pulled up beside her. She barely had time to react before the door slid open and strong hands grabbed her, pulling her inside.

She fought, kicking and cursing, but it was no use. They had her, and they weren’t letting go. As the van sped away, Nettles caught a glimpse of Daemon standing on the corner, watching her with that same dark, amused expression.

The last thing she saw before the door slammed shut was his smirk, knowing he had won this round.

Nettles awoke with a start, her head throbbing and her vision blurry. She blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of her surroundings. The last thing she remembered was punching the man who had grabbed her, the van speeding away, and then nothing. Now, she found herself in an unfamiliar room, the scent of rich leather and polished wood filling her senses.

She sat up, groggy and disoriented, taking in the room around her. It was a large, open space, but something about it felt off. She was in Daemon’s suite. The penthouse was almost empty, stripped of the expensive furnishings she remembered from before. The once luxurious décor was gone, leaving only bare walls and a few pieces of minimalist furniture.

The only thing that remained opulent was a dark red dragon egg on a stand in the center of the room, glowing softly in the dim light.

“Shit,” Nettles muttered under her breath, pushing herself off the bed. Her first instinct was to escape, to find a way out of this place before Daemon showed up. She ran to the elevator, her heart racing, but no matter how many times she pressed the button, the doors refused to open.

Panic began to claw at her chest, but she forced herself to stay calm. There had to be another way out.

She darted through the penthouse, her bare feet slapping against the cold marble floors. Every door she tried was locked, every window sealed shut. It was as if the place had been designed to keep her in a gilded cage with no escape.

The only thing left untouched was the dragon egg, its surface shimmering with a deep, pulsating heat. She could feel its presence, like it was watching her, waiting.

Frustration welled up inside her, and she was about to kick the nearest piece of furniture when she heard a door click open behind her. Nettles spun around to see a tall, stoic man in a perfectly pressed suit step into the room. He looked like he had walked out of another century, with his impeccable manners and air of servitude.

“Good evening, Miss,” the butler said in a calm, measured voice. “May I offer you some dinner?”

Nettles stared at him, her mouth dropping open in disbelief. “Are you fucking serious?”

The butler didn’t so much as blink at her language. “Yes, Miss. We thought you might be hungry after your journey.”

She barked out a laugh, unable to believe the absurdity of the situation. “Yeah, sure. I’d love a five-course meal while I’m being held hostage. Why not?”

The butler bowed slightly. “Very good, Miss. I shall prepare something right away.”

Nettles watched in stunned silence as he disappeared through the same door he’d come in. She wasn’t sure whether to be furious or amused, but the ridiculousness of it all finally tipped the scales. She found herself laughing again, the sound echoing off the bare walls.

She’d tried the door, and of course, it was now locked.

An hour later, Nettles sat at a small table in the center of the room, staring down at the most extravagant meal she’d ever seen. A perfectly cooked steak, glistening with juices, lay before her on a China plate edged with gold. A bottle of champagne, the label boasting a price that could feed her for a year, sat in a silver bucket of ice. The cutlery sparkled, each piece gold, black and red delicately inlaid with intricate dragon designs.

“This is insane,” she muttered, shaking her head. But her stomach growled, reminding her she hadn’t eaten in hours. Despite everything, she picked up the fork and knife, cutting into the steak and savoring the first bite. She moaned. It was delicious, almost sinful, and she hated how much she enjoyed it.

She was halfway through the meal when the butler returned, this time with a fresh set of clothes and a soft, plush red robe. “The Master has also requested that we draw you a bath, Miss,” he said, bowing slightly. “It's ready for you.”

Nettles raised an eyebrow, leaning back in her chair. “What is this shit? A bath, huh? What’s next? A foot massage?”

The butler didn’t react to her sarcasm. “If that is your wish, Miss.”

She rolled her eyes, but the idea of a hot bath was too tempting to pass up. “Fine. Lead the way.”

He led her to a massive bathroom, the kind of place she had only ever seen in magazines. The tub was a giant, sunken affair, lined with marble and positioned right in front of a floor-to-ceiling window that offered a breathtaking view of the city below. The water was steaming, scented with an expensive fragrance. Candles flickered all over, casting a warm glow over the room.

Nettles sighed, slipping off her clothes and sinking into the hot water. The tension in her muscles began to melt away and for a moment, she let herself relax. She closed her eyes as she leaned back against the cool marble.

Her fingers had long since pruned. She had no idea how long she’d been there, but it’d been a while. She was staring out at the city watching the people walk by, when she heard the door open behind her. She didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. The air in the room seemed to shift, growing heavier, charged with an undercurrent of tension that made her pulse quicken.

“Enjoying yourself?” Daemon’s voice with that dangerous edge. She heard the soft rustle of fabric as he walked in, the scent of cigar smoke curling through the air.

Nettles smirked, not bothering to turn around. “Didn’t realize kidnapping was part of your seduction technique.”

“Wouldn’t call it that,” he replied, his voice closer now. “If you really wanted to leave, you would have found a way out by now. Or taken that steak knife to stab the butler. Or even me.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “Yeah, maybe. But where’s the fun in that?”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him approach, wearing nothing but a robe, the dark silk fabric hanging loosely over his broad frame. He took a long drag from his cigar, his eyes never leaving her as he exhaled a cloud of smoke. The tension between them was crackling in the air like a live wire.

“Maybe I just wanted to see what you’d do,” she said, her voice low and teasing.

Daemon arched an eyebrow, amused. “And what do you think I’m going to do?”

“Something shitty, probably.” Nettles finally turned to fully look at him, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “You rich boys are always so predictable.”

Daemon chuckled, a dark, rumbling sound that sent shivers down her spine. “Am I now?”

Without another word, he let the robe fall to the floor, revealing the hard lines of his now nude body. He stepped into the tub with a slow, deliberate grace, the water rippling around him as he moved closer to her. Nettles kept her gaze steady, refusing to show any sign of reaction, but she couldn’t ignore the way her pulse quickened.

“You shouldn’t have been able to touch that dragon egg,” he murmured, his voice low, almost a growl. He was so close now, his presence overwhelming and the heat of his body mingling with the steam rising from the water.

“Guess I’m full of surprises,” she shot back, her tone defiant. She turned her back to him, resuming her people watching as she fought to pretend he wasn’t there. But she still felt his gaze.

Daemon’s gaze was intense, his eyes dark and predatory as he reached for a loofah. Without asking, he began to rub the soap and water across her back, the motion slow and deliberate. Nettles could feel the strength in his hands, the way his touch lingered just a little too long, the friction sparking a fire deep in her core.

She stared out the window, refusing to let him see the effect he was having on her. But the tension in the room was unbearable, the silence filled with unspoken desires. His broad, powerful frame towered over her smaller, leaner form. Yet, she didn’t feel small or weak. If anything, his presence made her feel more alive.

“You played with fire,” he whispered in her ear, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of her neck.

“Maybe I like getting burned,” she whispered back, a sly smile curling at the edges of her lips.

Daemon’s lips found her neck, pressing a lingering kiss against her skin before he pulled away, leaving her alone in the tub. She could feel the heat of his absence, the way the air seemed colder suddenly without him there.

Nettles clenched her fists, annoyed at herself for liking any part of this. He had kidnapped her, for fuck’s sake. She should be furious, ready to stab him in the back the moment she got the chance. But instead, she found herself wanting more. More tension, more danger, more of him.

“Fuck,” she muttered, running a hand through her wet curls as she stared out at the city, her thoughts a chaotic barrage of anger, desire, and frustration.

The sound of the door closing behind her echoed through the room, and Nettles knew she was alone again. She didn’t move, didn’t turn around, just kept her eyes on the skyline, trying to make sense of the whirlwind of emotions inside her.

Days had passed since Nettles had last seen Daemon, and the hours dragged on in a haze of boredom and restless energy. The penthouse felt like a fancy prison, luxurious yet confining, each day blending into the next. The only sign of Daemon’s presence was the steady stream of gifts he sent her through the butler. A delicate ivory hairbrush, a silver-looking glass that caught the light like a pool of moonlit water, a velvet and satin dress lined with sheep fur that clung to her form, and a pair of finely crafted leather boots that fit her feet perfectly.

Today, she wore the dress, the rich fabric whispering against her skin as she moved about the room. Her curls had been brushed, though they still framed her face in an untidy halo. Just the way she liked it. The penthouse was quiet, save for the soft ticking of a clock somewhere in the distance, the silence pressing in on her.

Boredom gnawed at her, and she found herself wandering over to the large mirror that hung on the wall, the silver surface reflecting back her own image. She stared at herself, her gaze drawn to the scar that ran across the bridge of her nose, a jagged line that had earned her a lifetime of sneers and insults. She had been called ugly, disfigured, and worse but she had never cared. The scar was a badge of honor, a mark of survival in a world that had tried to grind her down.

Her fingers traced the line of the scar absently, her thoughts drifting back to the day she’d earned it. She was so lost in the memory that she didn’t hear the door open behind her.

“It suits you,” came Daemon’s low voice cut through the silence.

Nettles jerked her hand away from her face, spinning around to see him standing in the doorway, his eyes fixed on her with an intensity that made her heart skip a beat. He was dressed in his usual black, the dark fabric emphasizing the sharp angles of his face, the dangerous edge to his presence.

“Does it?” she replied, raising an eyebrow, her tone laced with defiance. “Got it stealing. Should’ve seen the other guy.”

Daemon’s lips curled into a faint smile, though there was something darker lurking behind his eyes. “I imagine you gave him a good fight.”

“Better than he deserved,” Nettles said, turning back to the mirror, her gaze meeting his in the reflection. “You’ve been awfully absent, Daemon Targaryen. Afraid to face the girl you confined?”

“Hardly,” he said, his voice laced with amusement. He stepped closer, his presence filling the room, suffocating and alluring all at once. “I’ve just been giving you some space. Letting you get comfortable.”

“Comfortable.” Nettles snorted, turning to face him fully. “Is that what this is? Trying to butter me up with fancy gifts and expensive dinners?”

Daemon’s smile widened, his eyes never leaving hers. “Is it working?”

Nettles didn’t answer right away, but the tension between them crackled like electricity. She felt the pull of him, the magnetic attraction that had drawn her in from the start, despite every warning bell in her head telling her no. She wasn’t stupid and knew the kind of man Daemon was, the danger he represented. And yet, she couldn’t deny the thrill that shot through her whenever he was near.

The butler walked in, wheeling in a cart laden with dinner. This spread was as extravagant as the meals that had come before. A perfectly cooked roast, seasoned vegetables, rich sauces, and a bottle of red wine that likely cost more than she had ever stolen in one job. The butler set the table with quiet efficiency, the clink of silverware the only sound in the room. Nettles took her seat opposite Daemon, who watched her with a predatory gaze, his every move deliberately calculated.

They ate in tense silence for a few moments, the air between them thick with unspoken words. Nettles focused on her food, but her mind was racing, her thoughts tumbling over one another in a chaotic swirl. Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore.

“Where’s your daughters?” she asked, cutting into her roast with a bit more force than necessary. “You just leave them fatherless while you’re out here playing games with me?”

Daemon’s expression was unmoved, despite her trying to get under his skin. “That’s none of your concern,” he said, his tone final.

Nettles raised an eyebrow, leaning back in her chair with a smirk. “So family is a touchy subject, huh?”

Daemon’s voice was dangerously low now as he looked up at her, “it’s none of your concern.”

Nettles bit back a retort, the atmosphere in the room shifting from tense to volatile in the blink of an eye. But rather than backing down, she felt a thrill of excitement at pushing his buttons, at seeing the cracks in his controlled facade. She didn’t know why she kept poking the bear, only that it made her feel alive, the danger of it all intoxicating.

They finished the meal in a silence that buzzed with tension, every glance between them heavy with unspoken words, every movement charged with something darker, more primal. When the last dish was cleared away, Daemon stood, his eyes locking onto hers.

“Goodnight, Nettles,” he said, his voice a soft purr that sent shivers down her spine. But instead of leaving, he turned and walked across the room, pausing in front of a different door. He pulled a key from his pocket, unlocking it with a deliberate slowness that made her heart pound.

She watched, entranced, as he pushed the door open, revealing a room beyond. He didn’t look back at her as he stepped inside, the darkness swallowing him up. For a moment, Nettles hesitated, every instinct telling her to stay put, to let him be. But curiosity, and something else, something far more dangerous, won out.

She rose from her chair, her footsteps silent on the marble floor as she followed him into the room.

Daemon’s bedroom was a reflection of the man himself. Dark, opulent, and suffused with a quiet, dangerous power. The walls were lined with deep, rich wood, polished to a high sheen. Heavy curtains of midnight blue and red framed the large windows, drawn back to reveal the city lights twinkling far below. The bed was massive, a king-sized affair draped in black silk sheets that seemed to absorb the light, making the room feel even more intimate, more enclosed.

The scent of smoke and leather filled the air as he stood near the bed, his shirt discarded, his broad chest bare and glistening in the firelight.

Nettles paused in the doorway, her breath catching at the sight of him. There was something about the way he moved, the way he carried himself, that made her feel like she was standing on the edge of a precipice, staring down into a dark, endless void. And yet, she couldn’t stop herself from taking that final step forward, from crossing the threshold into the unknown.

Daemon turned to her, a slow, predatory smile spreading across his lips. “Changed your mind, have you?”

Nettles met his gaze. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Daemon. They say you started hanging out with criminals because the politicians didn’t want you around. Even your own brother wanted you gone.”

The words were out before she could stop herself, a jab meant to provoke him, to test his limits. She expected him to laugh it off, to shrug it away like he had every other insult she’d thrown at him. But instead, his expression darkened, his eyes narrowing to dangerous slits.

In an instant, he was on her. His hand shot out, grabbing her throat and pushing her back against the wall with a force that knocked the breath out of her. His grip was firm, his fingers pressing just hard enough to make her heart race.

“Careful, Netty,” he hissed, he was menacing. “You don’t know what you’re playing with.”

She gasped, her hands instinctively going to his wrist, but she didn’t try to push him away. She stared up at him, her pulse pounding in her ears, waiting for him to make the next move.

“You want to know who I am, little thief?” Daemon leaned in, his breath hot against her ear. “Earlier today, I killed Otto Hightower. Snapped his neck like a twig and watched the life drain from his eyes.”

His words sent a shiver down her spine, a thrill that made her breath hitch in her throat. She had always known Daemon was dangerous but hearing him speak so casually about murder brought that reality crashing down on her.

As she processed his words, his hand slipped from her throat, trailing down her body, slipping under her dress. His touch was rough, demanding, his fingers brushing against the soft skin of her thigh. She bit her lip, unable to suppress the gasp that escaped her as his hand moved higher, pushing the fabric of her dress up as he went.

“You think you know me?” Daemon growled, his eyes locked on hers, daring her to challenge him. “You don’t know anything.”

She gasped as she felt one of his fingers enter her. Not once did they break eye contact, not once did he stop touching her, his thumb stroking circles against the sensitive flesh, and she squirmed from his touch. Daemon looked feral.

Nettles felt his finger slide deeper and she bit her tongue to keep from groaning out loud. He moved faster, his movements harsh and impatient like this was something he had waited years to do. But then his pace slowed down. His finger continued moving, but his movements became languid, lazy almost before he removed it.

With a swift motion, he yanked the dress over her head, the fabric tearing slightly in his haste. The satin crumpled to the floor, leaving her exposed to his gaze, her breath coming in short, ragged bursts.

But even now, with his hand still on her thigh, his presence overwhelming, Nettles couldn’t bring herself to back down. She met him head-on even as the tension between them reached a boiling point.

“I’m not afraid of you,” she whispered, the words barely more than a breath.

Daemon’s eyes flashed with something primal, something that made her knees weak. He leaned in, his lips brushing against hers, a barely-there touch that sent sparks through her entire body.

“Good,” he murmured, his voice dark and possessive. “Because I don’t want you to be afraid. I want you just like this."

With that, he kissed her, a fierce, demanding kiss that stole the breath from her lungs. She responded in kind, her hands tangling in his silver hair, pulling him closer as she pressed her body against his. The heat between them was unbearable, the tension snapping like live wire as they gave in to everything that had been building between them from the start.

Daemon’s hands roamed over her body, his touch both rough and possessive as he guided her to the bed. The silk sheets were cool against her skin as she sank down onto them, pulling him with her. The last of his restraint shattered as he joined her, their bodies tangling together in a frenzy of need and desire.

He broke their kisses long enough to take his pants off, tossing them aside carelessly. Then he was on her again, his mouth claiming hers hungrily, his teeth nipping playfully at her bottom lip before moving back down towards her throat. Her breath quickened, a small sound of pleasure escaping her lips as her arms wound tightly around his shoulders when she felt his cock at her entrance.

Daemon shifted above her, his hand finding purchase on her hip as he slowly entered. Nettles moaned loudly, arching her hips upwards in an attempt to relieve the pressure. His chuckle vibrated against her, his lips ghosting across her jawline as he trailed down her neck.

His fingers dug into her hip bone as he began thrusting deep. Nettles' toned legs clung to him, her nails scratching at his back while her hips arched upward. A strangled cry slipped past her lips as a wave of pure ecstasy rolled over her. It washed over her, filling her with a sense of utter bliss. She pulled him close as he continued thrusting in and out of her, Daemon filling her completely. He pulled back suddenly, releasing a guttural moan as she tightened around him. He wanted to collapse on top of her, kissing her deeply as he buried his face in the crook of her neck.

When he raised his head, there was a wild gleam in her eye that sent a shiver down his spine.

“I thought you might like that,” she whispered in his ear, her soft words a low rumble. Daemon was breathless. He wanted everything about her. Wanted to be inside her forever, fucking her senseless, driving her mad with desire. He could hardly remember the last time he felt like this, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold back.

Their groans and moans echoed across the room. Their breathing heavy as he struggled to regain control over himself. He moved lower, pressing his lips against hers, his tongue tracing along her bottom lip again until she opened her mouth, eagerly returning his kiss.

With a groan, he lifted his hips off hers, bringing their faces even closer together as they came together in what felt like an explosion.

Nettles sighed and fell back against the cool pillows as the aftershock rocked her body. The room spun as her senses slowly returned to her, the warmth of the room and the press of his body lulling her into a peaceful dreamlike state.

She could hear the steady beat of his heart, could almost smell his skin, feel his breath on her as she inhaled deeply. All she felt was a strange sense of satisfaction, of having met her match in a man who was as unpredictable as she was.

Daemon’s arm was draped over her waist, his breathing slowing and even as he lay beside her, his presence still dominating the space. She turned her head to look at him, studying the lines of his face, the way the firelight cast shadows over his features. He looked almost peaceful, but she knew better than to believe the facade.

She was in deep now, too deep to turn back. But as she lay there, her mind racing, she couldn’t help but wonder where this path would lead them next.

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