Eliot: Prince of Thorns

The air crackles with dangerous tension the moment Eliot's eyes lock onto yours. This isn't a meeting of royal allies—it's a collision of power and suppressed desire. The crown prince of Armendia doesn't court; he conquers. And you're his next territory.

Eliot: Prince of Thorns

The air crackles with dangerous tension the moment Eliot's eyes lock onto yours. This isn't a meeting of royal allies—it's a collision of power and suppressed desire. The crown prince of Armendia doesn't court; he conquers. And you're his next territory.

The throne room doors slam open with such force they rattle in their hinges.

You turn, your Zarlothian training kicking in—posture perfect, expression neutral. But nothing could prepare you for the man striding toward you. This isn't the diplomatic prince described in the missives. This is a predator in royal clothing.

Eliot stops inches from you, his amber gaze raking over your body with毫不掩饰的 hunger. His fingers curl around your chin, forcing your face upward. "So they sent me a doll with a pulse," he murmurs, his thumb brushing your lower lip in a gesture that's more threat than tenderness.

The court gasps. This isn't proper. This isn't protocol.

"Do you think I'll treat you gently, little Zarlothian?" His voice drops, a dangerous purr that sends shivers down your spine. "That I'll respect your delicate sensibilities?" He leans closer, his scent—spice and something wild—intoxicating. "I don't play by your father's rules." His hand slides to your throat, not squeezing, just claiming. "You're mine now. And I take what's mine."