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The crystal sconces and jeweled chandeliers of glowing candles lined her path, giving off an ominous smoke aroma as she descended it.

Oftentimes, she’d wonder if the smoke and shadows were a warning. ‘Don’t go in there. You know what waits for you,’ it’d indicate. But that was foolish thinking. What could smoke and shadows do? Nothing. Then her feet would simply keep moving.

The same emerald rugs guided her steps past six more doors. And at the end, one short left turn gave way to her darkened bedchamber. Where herbetrothedwould be sleeping.

The shadows outside the door danced a little darker that morning as she listened for his heavy breathing.

Only a few more steps.

She paused, toes digging into the floor, and her eyes drifted left to a different darkened room. No longer did light fill the once calming space, though it held a tall window facing the north. Long since boarded up, the white curtains torn from the wall. Peaceful—heart-wrenching—cold memories of the stunning views it once yielded haunted her with every passing second. A simple redwood chair with parchment and a pen resting atop it and a shelf blessed with books under its daily sunlit glow sent her heart a pained ache.

She quickly tore her eyes away before the tears burned.

Focus. You can do this.Closing her eyes, Alora inhaled deeply and gripped her cloak.

At last, her feet silently rested at the threshold, her sleeping betrothed unknowingly waited beyond. The waves of her white locks fell around her shoulders as her body pivoted into the entryway of her bedchamber—and slammed face-first into a bare broad chest.

Then blistering-hot hands clamped around her tense shoulder and neck.

Fingers sought purchase against her flesh like they molded clay.

His voice came next, a tone of damning torture. “Where in Firekeeper-filled-hell have you been?”

Panic thrashed down her body. Too frightened to speak.

Kaine’s grip tightened around her as she tried to pull back from his reach. He towered over her even as she stood upright. The build of a man who could kill with his bare hands. His mahogany eyes were filled with a villainous rage trapped behind jaw-length ebony hair. Everything about him commanded great authority.

A beautiful face and a decent physique clothed in expensive finery. But a true demon lay within.

“You’ve been out withhimagain, haven’t you?” Kaine forced her into the hallway, pushing her into the open doorway of the dining room across from his bedchamber. His powerful grip held firm as his corded arms slammed her onto a long redwood table inside. The flaming candles rattled; smoke whirled from the lit wicks as they balanced and steadied.

Flat on her back, Alora’s hands clamped around his wrist. Digging into his tanned skin with no hope of releasing his clasp as terror-filled eyes flooded and smoke from the candles burned her nose. “No, I wasn’t. Kaine, please—”Please.

“When I wake in the morning, the first sight I should see is my fucking wife naked, by my side, to tend to my needs.” Spit pebbled across her face. “Not an empty bed,” Kaine seethed.

Wife.

The title he used to assert ownership of her. They hadn’t had the ceremony yet, but by all technicalities, it wasn’t required. By Elysian law, being a betrothed was as good as married. But she’d never call him her husband. She’d make sure of that.

Kaine released his grip around Alora’s throat, only to reposition himself on her arms. Pinning them beside her head,he lowered his rippling form up onto the table, forcing himself against her squirming body.

She had been there many times before. Years of thisgenerousattention. His expectations, her ‘disobedience.’ Her body was a canvas. And his hands held the tools to paint what his eyes craved. Rich tones of violet and deep navy, dark hues of emerald and chestnut that slowly faded away. Fresh ebony and ash strokes painted under her clothing.

This was normal.

Kaine lifted a hand, his palm positioned to collide with her face. The movement caused enough wind that the candles, filling the space around them with a steady stream of smoke, flickered out. She hoped the heavy scent would cover up her own.

The wick’s heavy smoke connected to the other lit candle beside it and, with one dance of its flame, ignited along the path.

The flame traveled through the smoke’s whirl, circling Kaine’s lifted hand before the flame scorched his perfectly smooth skin.

He flinched away with a shriek, violently shaking his hand.

Alora threw every ounce of fear and resentment into her legs. Jerking her knees up and jabbed hard into his gut, forcing him to release his hold and slide off the table in an enraged growl.

“Youpromisedyou wouldn’t do this again!” Alora slowly backed toward the door of the dining room with liquid flooding her lower lashes. Her hands hovered in front of her. A useless barrier that would protect her like a piece of tissue would. Pointless.

A clash pierced her ears. Glass shards peppered her face and the white of her rib-length hair. The remnants of Kaine’s decanter littered the floor and cracked beneath her retreating feet.