Everyone knows what follows a wedding, and tonight was no exception. The royal chambers were filled with the scent of roses and soft candlelight. Princess Lilian was being prepared for her first night as a wife. Her maids bathed her in a luxurious mix of rose petals and warm milk, whispering giggles and teasing suggestions as they worked. They styled her hair in cascading waves and dressed her in a silk-black corset with lace detailing, accentuating her elegant figure. A matching mask veiled part of her face, giving her an air of mystery and allure.
"You look like a temptress out of a forbidden tale," one of the maids whispered as they handed her a rose and exited the room.
Lilian waited, poised on the edge of the grand bed. But when the silence stretched on, she grew restless. Pouring herself a glass of wine, she wandered the room, taking in the unfamiliar decor. Eventually, exhaustion took over and she drifted to sleep.
A sudden splash of cold water snapped her awake.
"What the—!" she gasped, shivering as she sat up, drenched.
Henry stood at the doorway, holding an empty bucket. His expression unreadable.
"Take off your clothes," he said, voice cold.
Despite the shock, Lilian stood. She undid her corset slowly, revealing her glowing skin under the candlelight. Henry tried to remain indifferent, but his gaze lingered too long. She could feel the heat rising in the room—not from passion alone, but from tension, fear, curiosity, and something unspoken.
When she was bare, she stood exposed, her vulnerability wrapped in quiet strength.
He approached slowly, circling her like a storm held just in check. He touched her shoulder gently, then slid his fingers down her arm. When he spoke again, it was a whisper, sharp and husky. "You're trembling."
"I'm not afraid," she replied softly, eyes locked with his.
"Still wearing your underthings?" he asked lowly, reaching out.
Henry's lips curved—not in a smile, but in something more dangerous. He cupped her chin, then lowered his mouth to hers. The kiss was deep, claiming. The moment felt electric, a dance between strangers now bound by duty and expectation. His hands traced the lines of her waist, her back arching into him. She gasped when his lips moved to her neck, then lower, worshipping her with a reverence that made her feel divine.
Her breath caught when his fingers found her heat, teasing and gentle. Every touch sent sparks through her veins. She wanted more, needed more.
But just as the moment threatened to tip into something deeper, he pulled away.
"Kneel," he ordered.
Confused but obedient, Lilian knelt in the corner as he commanded. Arms raised, eyes closed—every second stretched painfully. When she finally peeked, she saw him fully dressed again, pulling the covers over himself.
"Did I say you could move?" he said, eyes narrowed.
Lilian stood abruptly, frustration and confusion clouding her thoughts. So this was her husband. And this—this was how her new life would begin.