They whispered of a child born beneath a bleeding moon...
A prince of two kingdoms, too cursed to kneel, too powerful to be tamed.
The red sovereign's heir.
He does not ask. He takes.
And when he comes, the stars forgets how to shine.
.....
"I'll chain you to the bed, little witch…" Kieran's voice was low, lazy – like sin whisperered through silk. "Make you scream my name until your magic breaks."
Her breath hitched, but she didn't flinch. She closed her eyes, summoning the language buried deep in her blood – ancient and wild.
"A'shvera lun morathé…karian vol'eth na sa'liem."
Nothing happened.
Instead – everything happened.
In a blur, her back hit the bed, her wrist pinned above her head by one of his hands. Just one. The other was already on her waist….sliding up slowly….painfully slow.
"You thought you could cast me out?" He breathed into her neck, inhaling. "But all I smell… is jasmine and a lie."
She gasped as his mouth moved lower – past her collarbone, grazing the soft curve of her chest.
His fangs grazed her skin – not biting, just threatening.
"Try your little spells, witch," he murmured against her skin. "The only power that works here… is mine."
Her voice broke, trembling. "Y-you don't control me."
"No," he whispered, lifting his head – his eyes glowing that terrifying, blood-hued red. "But I will. And when I do… I'll make you beg for the chains."