I've mastered the art of royal succession.
Bloodlines pure as fresh vellum.
Matings sealed in whispers of alliance, never lust.
That's my vow to the crown - until she drifts into the candlelit galleries.
Unseen wisp of a girl, all defiant breath and hidden cravings.
Her gaze begs for the visibility the court denies her.
And God help me, I ache to drag her into the light.
One frozen instant.
Our breaths mingle hot against chilled air.
Silks rustle like secrets about to spill.
Footsteps approach, but my hand claims the small of her back.
Pulling her deeper into shadow.
Strangers no more.
That magnetic drag ignites us - fevered unions where duty dissolves into devastating thrusts.
Class crumbles under sweat-slicked skin, bodies colliding in moonlight-dappled alcoves.
Raw anger erupts first.
Fury at her insolence, my unraveling control.
It explodes into clawing embraces, desperate and devouring.
I pin her against tapestried walls, her untouched heat yielding to my ruinous need.
Deflowering a commoner for dynastic seed.
Breeding her under the crown's blind eye.
Paradise and perdition in every forbidden plunge.
Her anonymity hangs by whispers now.
One leaked gasp, and scandal devours her freedom, her fragile pride.
The court's gaze would strip her bare, worse than my hands ever could.
My obligations growl louder each dawn - vanish, or be vanished.
Yet she clings, obsessed, pulling my leash taut.
This girl who craves surrender without shame.
Will I forge the heir that saves the throne...
or doom us both to its jaws?
