In the Shadow of the Crown

Eliza pressed her fingers against the cold stone of the chamber wall, her breath uneven, her thoughts a tangled mess. The ghost of Raen’s kiss still burned on her lips, but it was not the kiss itself that left her shaken.

It was the certainty in his touch.

In his voice.                                            

In the way he looked at her, as if she was already his in every sense that mattered.

She forced herself to focus. She had to return to her estate her own home, her own life, if there was anything left of it. The wedding contract had been signed. She needed to prepare, to think, to act before it was too late.

Eliza took a steadying breath. “I need to go back to my estate.”

Raen did not move. He leaned against the edge of the fireplace, golden eyes watching her with an unreadable expression.

“No,” he said simply.

A flicker of irritation cut through her unease. “You don’t have the right to keep me here.”

His smirk was slow, deliberate. “And yet, you’re still standing in my chambers.”

Eliza clenched her fists. “Raen, I...”

He was in front of her before she could finish, his fingers brushing her cheek, his touch deceptively light. But there was no mistaking the steel behind it.

“You think I will let you walk away,” he murmured, his voice like velvet and knives. “You think I will let you return to that house, to him, while you still bear no proof of who you belong to?”

Her breath caught. “This is madness.”

His gaze darkened. “No, Eliza. This is war.”

She tried to step back, but his arm curled around her waist, pulling her flush against him. “And if war is what they want…” His lips ghosted over her jaw, trailing lower. “Then let them see the battlefield.”

A soft gasp left her as he pressed his mouth against the delicate skin of her throat. He didn’t bite, not yet, just let his lips linger, teasing, promising.

“You wear my collar,” he murmured, his breath hot against her skin. “Now, you will wear my mark.”

Before she could protest, he bit down.

Not hard enough to break skin, but enough to make her body jolt in shock, enough to leave a deep, unmistakable bruise blooming just above the line of her gown.

A mark of possession.@@novelbin@@

A warning to all who dared to look.

Eliza shivered. She wanted to hate him for it. She wanted to shove him away, to scream at him, to demand her freedom.

But her body betrayed her.

The heat of his mouth, the weight of his touch, the dark satisfaction in his eyes when he pulled back to admire his work. It left her breathless, dizzy.

Raen ran his thumb over the mark, smirking. “Now, now you may leave.”

Eliza swallowed hard. “You’re insufferable.”

His smirk deepened. “And yet, you’ll think of me every time someone looks at you.”

He was right. And she hated that.

With shaking hands, she adjusted the collar of her gown, as if that could erase what he had done. As if anything could erase him from her mind.

Without another word, she turned and strode toward the door.

But as she reached for the handle, Raen’s voice stopped her cold.

“You will return to me, little countess,” he said lazily. “You always do.”

Eliza didn’t look back.

Because the worst part was…

She wasn’t sure he was wrong.