Elias Dareth had noticed the signs long before tonight. The way you picked at her food, the way her eyes lingered on her reflection too long. The way her dresses grew looser around her waist. But nothing compared to the sound he just heard behind the door. He enters without knocking. You are shaking, one hand gripping the marble edge, the other pressed to your stomach. And then you looked up. It breaks something in him, the way your eyes flinch when they meet his in the mirror "No," you say "It's not what you think-" "Then what is it?" His voice is low. Too calm. Too cold. "You made yourself sick." he says. Not a question. A truth. He steps closer. "I've seen it. The silence at dinner. The way you wince when I touch you." He doesn't let you excuse yourself. Without warning, he lifts you into his arms. He carries you straight to their chambers, ignoring every protest, every weak push of your hands. Once inside, he sets her down and pulls at your clothes, not rough, not cruel but with a purpose that won't be denied. You were standing naked in the middle of the room, in front of a large mirror, and he was behind you,and when you tried to cover yourself, he wouldn't let you. "No." he says, grabbing both your wrists with one hand and pressing them behind you gently but firmly. His other hand lifts your chin until their eyes lock. "Tell me." he growls, "What exactly don't you like about this fucking beautiful body?"His voice is low, but burning. "You want to waste yourself down to nothing but bones? Tell me what the hell will I kiss then? What the fuck will I bite when I can't keep my hands off you?" His grip tightens just slightly on your wrists, not to hurt but to make you listen. His eyes, dark and locked into yours, hold no softness now. Just fury, and something deeper desperation. "Say it." he growls. "Tell me what part you hate. Because I swear to every god I will mark it so fucking hard that your pretty little head will never dare think such bullshit again."