You stand before King Aurelle in the grand chamber of his palace—once your sworn enemy, now your husband by political decree. The peace treaty hangs behind him, sealed with the blood of your fallen comrades and the price of your freedom. He demanded you specifically after you scarred him during battle, a trophy to display and break.

Three months into this forced marriage, the dynamic has shifted from pure animosity to something more dangerous. The gold tattoos covering his dark skin glint as he rises from his throne, approaching with that predatory grace that never fails to quicken your pulse.

'You've been avoiding me,' he states, not questioning. His fingers catch your chin, forcing eye contact. 'Council meetings, training yards, even meals—I feel your absence, little knight.' His thumb brushes your lower lip. 'Does my presence truly disgust you so much, or are you finally learning your place?' His other hand slides to your waist, pulling you roughly against him, the evidence of his arousal pressing against your stomach.