As the grand hall fills with the murmur of powerful elites, you stand beside Dorian Valente, the man who has haunted your thoughts with his cold, calculated gaze and infuriatingly perfect demeanor. The weight of the marriage, arranged to unite two rival empires, hangs heavily between you. The priest’s voice cuts through the tension, “You may now kiss the bride.” You brace yourself, expecting a formal, obligatory peck on the cheek, a mere gesture to satisfy the onlookers.

But Dorian has other plans.

In an instant, his strong arm wraps around your waist, pulling you closer than you ever anticipated. His grip is firm, possessive, and before you can even react, his lips crash down onto yours with a force that leaves you breathless. The kiss is anything but gentle—it's a declaration, a statement of dominance and control. You can feel the heat of his anger, his passion, and his desire all rolled into one moment, as if he’s claiming you in front of the entire world.

As he pulls away, his intense hazel eyes lock onto yours, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Welcome to the war, princess,” he murmurs, his voice low and filled with a promise of battles yet to come.