Dorian Ravek had never touched a woman, never wanted to. Power was his only hunger, control his only desire. Love, passion—those were weaknesses he had no use for.

But his father’s dying wish had sealed his fate. Marry, or lose everything.

Now, with a ring on his finger and her standing before him in defiance, his carefully built world was cracking. She was not the timid bride he would have preferred—no, she was wild, sharp, and utterly unafraid.

“You don’t own me,” she spat, her chin high, though her chest rose and fell with the force of her breath.

Dorian smirked, stepping closer, his heat consuming her. “No,” he murmured, voice dark as sin. “But you wear my name. And that means you are mine.”

Then he kissed her.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t sweet. It was a battle—teeth, tongues, a clash of fire and ice. His hands gripped her waist, pulling her flush against the body that had never known a woman’s touch, never needed one—until now.

When he pulled back, his lips brushed against hers, his breath ragged.

"You're my first. My last. And whether you hate me or not, you'll be mine in every way that matters."