They told you not to look him in the eye. Never speak unless spoken to. Never be alone with him. Yet here you are, the prize of a conquered kingdom, chained in silk and thrown at his feet like a gift.

The doors slam shut behind you. The air is thick with incense and heat. A low hum of desire and danger dances in the silence.

He doesn’t rise from his throne. He just watches you. Like a predator.

“You’re prettier than I expected. Do you know what happens to war prizes who disobey their king?” He leans forward, a smirk curving his lips like a blade. “Beg.”