Isla's mind violently flashed back to Dorian.
She remembered his beautiful, tear-filled eyes. She remembered the terrible, heartbreaking lie she had just told him in the cold washroom.
She had sworn to him that her sacred duty ended entirely with the wedding ceremony, promising there would be absolutely nothing more.
But reality was a suffocating nightmare.
Lucier still had her trembling lips fiercely captured in a bruising, demanding kiss. Isla squeezed her brilliant blue eyes tightly shut.
She let her body go completely limp in his strong hold, making it look exactly as though she had finally, utterly surrendered to her inescapable fate.
Encouraged by her quiet submission, Lucier gripped her waist even tighter. He forcefully pulled her fragile, delicate frame flush against his hard, muscular chest.
Moving with an agonizingly slow, deliberate motion, his fingers found the intricate silk knot at the back of her bridal dress.
He pulled it completely loose. With a careless flick of his wrist, he tossed the torn ribbon away into the dark shadows of the bedchamber.
The heavy fabric of her gown still miraculously clung to her chest in the front.
However, the delicate silk slipped downward from her shoulders, leaving her entire back completely, terrifyingly bare.
Lucier slowly, deliberately slid his large, warm hand directly onto her exposed skin.
He began to heavily, possessively stroke down the delicate curve of her bare spine.
Isla kept her eyes fiercely clamped shut to hold back her tears.
With every single, sickening brush of his rough fingers against her bare flesh, her inner agony violently spiked. She tightly clenched her trembling hands into desperate fists.
Her sharp fingernails dug painfully deep into her own palms, desperately using the sharp physical pain to ground herself as she silently endured his horrifying touch.
When Lucier finally, mercifully released her bruised and trembling lips to catch his own breath, he did not pause his relentless assault for even a single, fleeting second.
His hot, demanding mouth instantly trailed downward with a sickeningly greedy hunger, aggressively pressing wet, scorching kisses against the delicate curve of her neck, tracing the sharp lines of her fragile collarbones, and heavily marking her exposed, bare shoulder.
Isla's chest heaved violently as she gasped for air, taking sharp, ragged, and heavy breaths as she desperately forced her paralyzed body to endure this terrifying, unwanted intimacy without completely shattering into pieces.
But suddenly, right in the absolute, suffocating midst of her dark despair, a profound, scorching heat violently ignited deep within the very core of her shattered soul.
Her tightly shut eyes snapped wide open, the brilliant, ordinary human blue instantly bleeding into a piercing, unnatural, and violently glowing serpent gold.
A massive, overwhelming surge of raw, ancient magic violently coursed through her trembling veins, instantly washing away her physical weakness.
Her entire being began to aggressively hum with a terrifying, breathtaking strength that she had never once felt in her entire existence.
In that exact, agonizing moment of violation, a horrifying clarity washed over her.
"'My father was absolutely, undeniably right all along,'" she thought, her mind violently reeling as the dormant, destructive serpent magic finally, completely awakened inside her blood.
"'Enduring Lucier... submitting to this cursed, loveless royal union... is the absolute, inescapable key to fully unlocking my ultimate powers.'"
Lucier violently pushed Isla backward, pinning her heavily against the plush mattress with a sudden, breathtaking force before slowly standing up to loom over her trembling, fragile form.
'This is absolutely no fun at all,' he complained darkly, his voice dripping with a heavy, arrogant disappointment.
Isla kept her eyes squeezed tightly shut, her heart hammering a wild, erratic rhythm against her ribs as she desperately prayed he would not notice the terrifying, unnatural, and glowing golden color of her newly awakened serpent eyes.
'Honestly, the sheer exhaustion of this incredibly long, chaotic day can only be truly cured by a steaming, luxurious hot water bath,' Lucier continued smoothly, a wicked, mocking smirk slowly forming on his handsome face.
'You must be terribly exhausted by now, and so am I; if we foolishly take our turns bathing one by one, the entire glorious night will simply slip away from us... so let us go in together.'
'Do not even dare to think about it!' Isla snapped fiercely, her eyes still clamped shut as she violently flinched.
'You can do whatever you absolutely must do to me right here in this room, and I will not try to stop you, but I am absolutely not going into that washroom with you... do not even dare to try it!'
A dark, intensely predatory smirk instantly crossed Lucier's face, completely transforming his features into something deeply sinister. 'Are you actually challenging me, my sweet, defiant bride?' he mocked softly.
Without a single second of hesitation, he reached out and aggressively grabbed her delicate wrist, forcefully yanking her entirely off the mattress and straight into his unyielding, iron grip while she remained dangerously clad in her ruined, half-undone bridal gown.
'Leave me alone right now, or I swear to the heavens I will kill you!' she screamed at the absolute top of her lungs, thrashing violently against his massive chest.
But Lucier did not stop for a single, fleeting second.
He effortlessly carried her thrashing, desperate body directly toward the washroom, violently kicking the heavy wooden door wide open with his heavy boot before ruthlessly tossing her straight into the massive, empty porcelain bathtub.
'Ahhh! How dare you?!' Isla shrieked in absolute fury, gasping in breathless shock as her delicate body hit the cold, unforgiving porcelain.
Completely ignoring her furious, terrified outrage, Lucier slowly and deliberately unbuttoned his heavily stained royal garments, carelessly stripping off his upper clothes to reveal his broad, muscular chest while he stared down at her with a deeply unnerving, terrifyingly possessive intensity.
Desperate to escape his suffocating gaze, Isla frantically tried to scramble to her feet, but her bare foot violently slipped against the dangerously smooth, curved porcelain of the tub, sending her crashing painfully right back into his waiting, muscular arms.
Seizing the absolute perfect opportunity, Lucier instantly lunged forward and aggressively captured her trembling lips once again, ruthlessly using his overwhelming, massive body weight to forcefully press her back down into the cold depths of the bathtub until she was completely, hopelessly trapped beneath him.
When he finally, breathlessly tore his punishing mouth away from her bruised lips, a wicked, deeply triumphant laugh escaped his chest.
'Look at yourself now, my beautiful princess,' he whispered darkly, his hot breath fanning heavily across her flushed, tear-stained face.
'Just yesterday, you absolutely despised the very sight of my face and completely loathed my existence... and yet here you are today, entirely trapped in my arms, willingly sharing my royal bed, sharing my private bathroom, and now, intimately sharing this very bathtub with me.'