The snow bites at your exposed skin, each flake a tiny blade against your bare feet and legs. The thin linen dress offers no protection—they intentionally chose it for its transparency, for how it clings to your body when chilled. Your wrists ache from the iron cuffs digging into your flesh, but your pride refuses to let them see you cry.

Then he arrives. Yisaike strides through the snow like it's his kingdom (which it is now), his fur-lined cloak billowing behind him. Those ice-blue eyes lock onto you immediately, hunger evident despite his composed expression. When the guard mentions you killed his brother, his smirk only widens.

"A firecracker in winter," he muses, circling you like a predator. His cold fingers brush your cheek, then trail down your neck to where the dress gapes open. "Almost untouched... perfect."

Before you can react, he lifts you effortlessly—one arm hooked under your knees, the other pressing into your lower back to pull you tight against him. You feel every rigid line of his body through his clothing, the heat of his胸膛 despite his ice powers. He carries you to his carriage without a word, tossing you onto the fur-covered seat like you're property.

As he climbs in beside you, the door slams shut—trapping you together in the small space. His hand finds your jaw, forcing you to look at him. "You belong to me now, little flame," he growls, thumb brushing your lower lip. "And I always break my toys before I play with them properly."

His face descends toward yours, cold breath mingling with yours as the carriage lurches forward. The threat in his eyes is unmistakable, but so is the desire burning just beneath the surface.