Burning kisses, urgent, consuming, and desperate, filled the air between them.
Ciana could feel the storm in her husband's touch, the heat of his anger, and the ache of something far deeper than rage. The composure he always carried as Crown Prince Andreinov shattered completely. His hands trembled, not from weakness, but from the violent effort to control himself.
"Your Majesty…" she whispered, her voice breaking, "please..."
He silenced her with another kiss, fierce and demanding, as if he wanted to erase every trace of the fourth prince from her memory. The scent of his skin, the fire in his gaze, the unyielding grip on her waist, all of it reminded her of how dangerous his love had become.
"You are mine, Ciana," Andreinov whispered against her ear, his voice low and trembling with emotion. "No one else will ever have you. Not while I still breathe."
