Chapter 668:

It wasn’t about the drink. It was about his ego. He needed the validation of the woman everyone was talking about.

Before Aurora could answer—or break his wrist—the air pressure around them changed. It wasn’t the wind. It was a presence.

A large, warm hand descended on her right shoulder. It was heavy, possessive, and utterly familiar. The scent of sandalwood and expensive tobacco enveloped her, erasing the smell of woodsmoke.

“She’s not thirsty,” a voice said.

It was a baritone rumble that vibrated through Aurora’s collarbone. Elias Thorne stepped up beside her. He didn’t look at Aurora. His eyes were locked on Preston.

Elias was wearing a dark charcoal overcoat, the collar turned up against the wind. He looked relaxed, in the way a tiger is relaxed before it snaps a gazelle’s neck.

Preston took a step back. His survival instincts, dormant for years, suddenly flared to life.

“Mr. Thorne,” Preston squeaked. “I… I was just…”

“You were just leaving,” Elias finished for him.

Elias didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t posture. He just stood there, his hand claiming Aurora’s shoulder, his thumb lazily tracing the fabric of her coat. It was a gesture of ownership so primal it made the air crackle.

Preston looked from Elias to Aurora, then back to Elias. He saw the cold, dead look in Elias’s eyes—the look of a man who had burned contracts worth billions just to watch the ash fall.

“Right,” Preston stammered. “I… goodbye, Miss Vance.”

He turned and walked away. He walked fast, slipping slightly on the ice. He didn’t look back.

Elias watched him go until he disappeared around the corner of the Science Building. Only then did the tension in his jaw relax.

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“Rotten peach blossom,” Elias muttered.

Aurora let out a small laugh. She reached up, covering his gloved hand on her shoulder with her own.

“Are you jealous, Elias?”

Elias looked down at her. His eyes were dark, swirling with an emotion he no longer tried to hide.

“Yes,” he said simply.

He didn’t make a joke. He didn’t deflect. He just admitted it.

“You are mine, Aurora,” he said. His voice was low, for her ears only. “I don’t like other men breathing your air.”

Aurora felt a shiver run down her spine. It wasn’t fear. It was a thrill.

“I can handle Preston,” she said.

“I know,” Elias replied. “But I prefer to handle him. It saves you the effort of being polite.”

He took the books from her arms, carrying them easily in one hand, and interlaced his fingers with hers with the other.

“Come on,” he said. “We have a fitting for the gala tonight. Julian insists the security protocols for the dress are… specific.”

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