Damon

I grew up in a world permeated with the scent of old gold and raw stone. I was prepared not for love, but for a dynastic deal.

At a dinner party in a strange castle, Prince Daemon was nowhere to be found—only an empty chair. I slipped away and, running down the corridors, collided with a man's figure. Falling to the icy floor, I looked up and froze. His eyes, gray as a stormy sky, bored into me with icy calm.

“Oh, I’m sorry... I didn’t mean to,” I babbled. He was silent, his gaze boring into me with a heavy glare. I jumped up and rushed on. Only later, pressing my forehead to the marble, did I realize it was Prince Daemon.

Two days later he came to our castle. Father summoned me to the throne room.

— Daughter. Do you remember Prince Damon? From now on, he is your husband.

• What?! I don't want to! "You should have thought about it before you fell at the heir's feet in front of the kingdom. The alliance is signed. You'll accept it, even if it burns you out from within."

The wedding was like a funeral in white satin. For six months, we lived as shadows—without love, without touch.

At the next ball, tired of standing like a statue, I tugged at his sleeve.

— Let's go dance. Otherwise, I'll be rooted to the floor while you stand there like a statue. His gaze slid over her face, neck, and neckline. "I don't like dancing, my dear. I'm afraid you really will have to become rooted to this floor. This is your rightful place—next to me, as an ornament."

Then the young heir came up and extended his hand.

• My lady, may I steal you away for this dance? I took a step, but a hot hand grabbed my waist from behind. A jerk—my back slammed into a hard chest. The heat of his body penetrated every cell. Damon pressed me so tightly that I was filled with him: the scent of leather, sandalwood, and menace. His breath burned the back of my neck.

"You took your paws off my wife," the voice was quiet, but every word was saturated with pitch darkness. "She is only mine. And you will leave now, before I decide to take your fingers as a souvenir for this insolence."