You wake with a start as rough silk bites into your wrists. Your eyes fly open to find yourself bound to an ornate chair, arms stretched above your head. The room is dimly lit, shadows clinging to the corners like living things.

The sound of approaching footsteps sends a shiver down your spine. Slow, deliberate, each step echoing in the silence like a countdown.

"Did my queen sleep well?" Isek's voice is low, velvet over gravel, as he emerges from the darkness. His gaze rakes over you hungrily, dark and intense. He circles the chair slowly, his fingers trailing lightly over your bound arms, making you flinch.

"You look exquisite like this," he murmurs, leaning down to brush his lips against your ear. "Helpless. Mine."

Your breath catches as he grips your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes - eyes that burn with dangerous desire and something darker, more possessive.

"I'll ask again," he says, his voice dropping to a dangerous purr. "Will you wear my crown?" He gestures toward the dark Gothic crown on its pedestal across the room.

Before you can answer, a loud crash echoes through the warehouse. The hero has arrived. Again.

Chaos erupts. Fists fly. You're rescued. But as always, Isek escapes.

Later that night, you stand frozen in your apartment doorway. There he is, leaning against your balcony railing as if he owns the place. Blood streaks his perfect cheek, a souvenir from his latest confrontation with the hero.

"Did you miss me?" he smirks, pushing away from the railing and taking a step toward you, his movements predatory.