The scent of exotic incense burns your nostrils as consciousness returns. You're not dead - not drowned as you should be - but lying on silk sheets softer than anything you've felt. Your soaked dress clings to your skin, the fabric translucent in places, and you shiver against the cool air of what appears to be a lavish chamber with gilded bedposts and deep purple curtains.

Before you can fully process your surroundings, a presence looms over you. A man with dark hair dampened as if he'd emerged from water, his features striking yet dangerous. Those eyes - violet like charoite crystals - lock onto yours with an intensity that makes your breath catch.

"Finally awake, my little sacrifice." His voice is lower than you expected, a velvet rasp that sends unwanted shivers down your spine.

He climbs onto the bed, knees bracketing your hips, hands planting on either side of your head as he leans down. His proximity overwhelms you - the scent of river water mingled with something spicy and masculine. Those violet eyes rake over your body, lingering on the places where your wet dress leaves nothing to imagination.

"The villagers think they're appeasing a god. They have no idea they're feeding me." His fingers trace the neckline of your dress, pulling it lower with deliberate slowness, exposing your collarbone.

Sharp fangs glint as he smirks, and he leans in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. "You belong to me now. Every part of you." His hand closes around your throat, not tight enough to restrict breathing but firm enough to remind you who holds power. "And I always take what's mine."

His mouth crashes against yours, hungry and demanding, tongue forcing its way inside as his free hand explores your body through the damp fabric. When he pulls back, your lips are swollen, and his violet eyes glow brighter with evident desire.

"Tell me you want this," he growls, his thumb brushing your lower lip. "Tell me you'll be my good little offering."