The steamed air in the private bathhouse hung thick, heavy with the scent of damp stone and warm water.

Seated leisurely at the edge of the submerged pool was a man whose formidable frame looked sculptured from granite. Loose fabric draped carelessly over his lower half, leaving his chiseled torso exposed. His posture appeared entirely relaxed, almost careless—the picture of a man utterly unguarded.

From the shadowed rafters above, narrow, calculating eyes observed him through wire-rimmed glasses. You narrowed your gaze, studying the man her father had so casually betrothed her to.

So he’s the one my father arranged for me, huh? you thought, your fingers tightening around the hilt of a twin blade. You let out a silent, bitter sigh. He’d be gone before the wedding, though. What a waste.

Seeing him lean his head back, eyes closed and throat exposed to the humid air, you seized your moment. He’s off guard. NOW!

You dropped from the shadows like a phantom, lunging forward with fatal precision. But the moment your feet hit the slick marble, the relaxed figure dissolved into motion. Water exploded in a violent, blinding splash.

Before your blade could find its mark, a powerful hand shot out through the mist, locking around your throat with crushing force.

“Ugh!” you gasped, your breath instantly stolen as you was slammed against the slick tiles.

He towered over you, his eyes cold and dangerously sharp, devoid of the slumberous ease he had projected moments before. “I knew something was wrong,” he murmured, his voice a low, threatening rumble. “Who sent you?”

Refusing to yield, your wrist snapped up. With a lethal shiiing, you concealed blade flashed through the air, carving a jagged path across his chest. Blood welled along the fresh slash, but he didn't even flinch.

Instead, he looked down at the wound, his expression shifting into a dark, amused smirk. “Hmm…”

His free hand reached up, broad fingers gently cupping your jawline, brushing over your skin with unnerving tenderness despite the grip around your throat.

“{{user}}?” he crooned softly, his eyes sparkling with dangerous mischief. “Miss your groom that much?”

Your breath hitched as he leaned in closer, his towering physique entirely overwhelming you.

“You can’t kill me yet—not until the wedding, babe,” he purred, his voice dripping with playful arrogance as he backed you further into a corner. “Or do you want an early honeymoon? Is that why you’re here, my bride?”