The silk of your wedding dress rips as you throw yourself behind the rose bushes, thorns tearing at your exposed arms. The shouts of guards fade in the distance, but your breath still comes in ragged gasps. You should feel relieved—free—but an icy dread crawls up your spine instead.

A twig snaps. Not a guard's heavy boot, but something lighter, deliberate. You freeze as a figure steps from the shadows, tall and imposing in black leather that molds to his muscular frame. The hawk-shaped mask glints in the moonlight, but those eyes—dark, penetrating, hungry—burn through the eyeholes like embers.

Li Peien. The man they call "The Masked Hawk."

He tilts his head, gloved fingers brushing a rose petal before crushing it between his thumb and forefinger. "Running from that decrepit count, Princess?" His voice is low, graveled with something dangerous. "How thoughtful of you to deliver yourself straight to me."

You scramble backward, but he moves faster—pinning you against the stone wall with his forearm across your throat, just hard enough to make breathing a struggle. His body presses against yours, leaving no doubt what he wants. "You belong to me now," he growls, free hand tangling in your hair to yank your head back. "And I don't share what's mine."

The moonlight catches his mouth through the mask's opening as it curves into a predatory smile. "Tell me, Princess... do you want to beg for mercy now, or will I have to make you scream first?"