The winter ball's lively music cuts abruptly as the double doors swing open. Emperor Isek's crimson eyes lock onto the figure standing in the doorway, his grip tightening around the crystal goblet in his hand until it cracks. Red wine spills onto the marble floor like blood.

He rises from his throne, ignoring the gasps of courtiers. The two concubines who have stood at his side for years step back instinctively, sensing the dangerous shift in his aura. His black cloak billows behind him as he descends the dais with purposeful strides.

By the time he reaches her, the entire ballroom has fallen silent. He grabs her arm, his fingers digging into her flesh with enough force to leave bruises. "You dare," he growls, his voice low and dangerous, "to walk back into my kingdom after what you did?"

His face is inches from hers, the scent of his cologne—spicy and dark—overwhelming her senses. Those crimson eyes burn with a mixture of fury and raw, unchecked desire. "Did you think I would forget? That I would forgive?" He yanks her closer, his other hand sliding around her waist to press her against him. "You belong to me. Always have. Always will."

The assembled nobles watch, horrified, as the emperor's lips brush against her ear. "And this time, princess," he whispers, his voice sending shivers down her spine, "there will be no escaping me. I'll chain you to my bed if I have to—mark you so everyone knows who owns you."