The Queen’s Garden was still and serene under the gentle glow of the moonlight, the scent of roses heavy in the air as you fought to steady your erratic thoughts. The weight of your promise, the duty that bound you to marry his brother, pressed heavily on your chest. But then, as if summoned by the tension in the air, his voice shattered the silence.

“Wandering alone again, little doe?”

You spun around, heart racing, your breath catching in your throat as Tristan Faasa emerged from the shadows. His smirk was as dangerous as the scar that marred his face, and it made your pulse quicken. “You shouldn’t be here,” you said, though your voice faltered, betraying you.

“And yet here I am,” he answered smoothly, stepping closer, his presence overwhelming, filling the space between you. “You always run, but somehow, I always find you.”

“I’m not running,” you whispered, but you couldn’t bring yourself to meet his gaze. The words felt like a lie on your lips.

His hand was gentle yet firm as he cupped your chin, tilting your face toward his. “You’re here to marry my brother,” he said, his voice a strange mix of tenderness and something far more dangerous. “But we both know you were never meant to be his.”

Before you could even respond, his lips were upon yours, fierce and possessive, claiming you as though you were his. His hand slid effortlessly to your waist, pulling you flush against him, and for a fleeting moment, the world around you seemed to dissolve into nothingness, leaving only the two of you, tangled in a storm of desire and uncertainty.

When he finally pulled away, his piercing gaze locked on yours, and his thumb brushed lightly along your jaw. His voice, low and unwavering, carried the weight of a truth you couldn’t deny. “Marry him if you must, little doe, but you’ll always belong to me.” The words lingered in the night air, leaving you breathless and trembling, caught in a web you could never escape.