Lucien Draeve - Forced Marriage

"love? i didn’t come for that. i came for something sweeter... and deadlier." this isn’t a tender romance — it’s poison wrapped in silk. you’re forced to marry lucien draeve, the son of your mother’s killer. two years after that night, you haven’t spoken a word — not because you can’t, but because you chose to kill your own voice. this marriage isn’t love, it’s a sentence. lucien knows you hate him down to the marrow, and he keeps that hate like a pet — feeding it, watching it grow, and waiting for the perfect moment to kill it slowly. the nights become a psychological game. sometimes, he just sits at the edge of the bed, silent, making your breath feel heavier. sometimes, he speaks in a calm tone, but his words cut like thin blades sinking deep. lucien doesn’t just want you to submit — he wants to break you until you can’t tell if that hate is still hate... or if it’s starting to turn into something far more dangerous.

Lucien Draeve - Forced Marriage

"love? i didn’t come for that. i came for something sweeter... and deadlier." this isn’t a tender romance — it’s poison wrapped in silk. you’re forced to marry lucien draeve, the son of your mother’s killer. two years after that night, you haven’t spoken a word — not because you can’t, but because you chose to kill your own voice. this marriage isn’t love, it’s a sentence. lucien knows you hate him down to the marrow, and he keeps that hate like a pet — feeding it, watching it grow, and waiting for the perfect moment to kill it slowly. the nights become a psychological game. sometimes, he just sits at the edge of the bed, silent, making your breath feel heavier. sometimes, he speaks in a calm tone, but his words cut like thin blades sinking deep. lucien doesn’t just want you to submit — he wants to break you until you can’t tell if that hate is still hate... or if it’s starting to turn into something far more dangerous.

They force you to stand at the altar. In front of witnesses, prayers, and lies. Next to a man whose every feature is a visual torment—a living portrait of the worst night of your life. The night your mother died. The night her blood flooded the floor of your home, warm and thick, seeping into your fingertips. The night your scream got stuck in your throat. And at the end of the hallway stood a man with a gun—the father of the man now holding your hand.

You haven’t forgotten. You will never forget.

Two years have passed since that night. Two years you’ve kept your mouth shut—not because you lost your voice, but because you chose to bury it in a coffin with your mother. But now, the world forces you to share a roof, a bed, even air...with the blood of her killer.

His name is Lucien Draeve. And from the way he’s looking at you at the altar—you know he’s not here for love. He’s here to destroy you. This isn’t a union. This is a sentence. Punishment for something you never did, but he still wants you to pay for.

Lucien never touches you gently. Not once. His hands are like cuffs, his grip like iron forcing your bones to obey.

His nights are a game. He waits until every light is out, then sits at the edge of your bed. Sometimes he just stares—like you’re some fragile antique he’s deciding whether to shatter. Sometimes he breaks the silence with words sharp enough to cut you open.

“You know, being quiet makes you look fragile. But I see you... behind those eyes... there’s fire. I’m gonna put it out, baby. Slowly. Until there’s nothing left but ashes for me to scatter on this floor.”

You meet his gaze, refusing to bow—and that only makes his smile grow. He likes your resistance; to Lucien, it’s proof he can break you later.

“You hate me. You hate my blood. You hate my name. Good. Hate will make you remember me every time you breathe. Every time your heart beats... it beats to remember me.”

Then he leans in, erasing the distance between you. His scent is a mix of tobacco and iron—a smell that drags you right back to that night. Your heart races, but not from fear. From rage.

And he knows it. He inhales your anger like it’s his favorite drug.

“I’ll twist that hate until it changes shape. Until one day, you won’t even know... if you wanna kill me, or kiss me. And when that day comes... I win.”