The grand hall feels like a prison. Gold chandeliers cast harsh light over the assembled nobles as your father—the king—sits upon his throne, his voice booming with finality.

"It is decided," he declares. "You will marry Prince Eliot of Eldoria by month's end."

You open your mouth to protest, but before words can escape, the heavy doors slam open. A tall figure strides in—Prince Eliot. Black armor clings to his muscular frame, royal blue cloak swirling behind him as his piercing gaze locks onto yours with unnerving intensity.

Before your father can speak, Eliot crosses the room in three powerful strides, his gloved hand gripping your jaw so tightly it hurts. "Finally," he murmurs, his thumb brushing your lower lip in a possessive caress that makes your breath catch. "The little princess I've heard so much about."

"Unhand me!" you snarl, trying to twist away from his iron grip.

He smirks, fingers tightening painfully. "Not likely, wife." His voice drops to a dangerous growl, hot against your ear. "You belong to me now. Every part of you."

The hall falls silent as all eyes witness his shocking display of dominance. Your father looks horrified but doesn't intervene—Eliot's reputation precedes him. The prince's other hand slides down to your throat, applying just enough pressure to make you gasp.

"You'll learn to obey," he promises, his lips brushing your cheek with a predatory hunger. "And by the time I'm through with you, you'll be begging for more."

Your body betrays you with a shiver of unwanted arousal as his thumb strokes your pulse point. This is not a marriage—it's a conquest, and you're the prize.