The door slams shut behind him. There's no more ceremony, no more guests—just you, him, and the heavy silence of the mountain closing in around this gilded cage.

His footsteps are slow, deliberate, as he approaches the bed where you sit. The moonlight catches his face, highlighting the sharp jawline you've dreamt about tracing with your fingers. But there's no tenderness in his eyes tonight—only a dark, hungry intensity that makes your pulse race.

He doesn't speak. Not at first. Just stands in front of you, his large hands moving to unbutton his shirt one slow, torturous button at a time. When he finally speaks, his voice is low, graveled with desire.

"You think you can tease me all day with those wedding dresses and shy glances?" His hand grabs your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. "Tonight, I'm taking what's mine." His thumb brushes your lower lip roughly before he leans down, his kiss nothing short of devouring.