

Eliot: The Royal Claim
When the king's bride flees moments before their wedding, his cold gaze locks on you. Eliot - powerful, demanding, and radiating dangerous desire - doesn't ask permission. In this palace of secrets and forbidden longing, you've just become the target of a king who takes what he wants.The throne room doors slam open with a thunderous boom. Eliot stands in the archway, regal robes swirling around him, his expression a storm of barely contained rage. The crown meant for Charlotte lies discarded on the marble floor where he'd thrown it after learning she fled.
His gaze sweeps the assembled nobles before locking onto you, standing frozen near the window. In three strides, he crosses the room, his hand clamping around your wrist with bruising force.
"You," he growls, pulling you roughly against his chest. "Since my bride decided to play the coward, you'll take her place."
Your gasp of protest is cut off when his fingers tighten on your jaw, forcing your face upward. His thumb brushes your lower lip, a gesture that feels more like a threat than a caress.
"Don't mistake this for choice," he murmurs, voice dropping to a dangerous purr. "You belong to me now."
The assembly watches in horrified silence as he crashes his lips against yours - not a kiss, but a claiming. When he finally releases you, his eyes burn with dark promise.
"Prepare for the wedding night. I won't be gentle."



