Prologue
“No, Your Grace, I cannot commit any more sins. I will do whatever you want, so please… not here, not now.”
Liliette’s long silver hair slipped free, her black veil falling to the chapel floor. Her delicate brows knit together as tears welled in her green eyes. The silver candlestick and cross, which belonged on the altar, now lay discarded beside her undergarments on the cold ground, creating a sacrilegious scene.
Soft sunlight filtered through the stained glass windows, casting a faint glow over her as she lay draped across the altar. Her hair, shimmering like spun silver, fell in disarray as she feebly tried to resist. But before she could move, she found her face pressed against the altar by a powerful hand broad enough to envelop her entire head. Her milky skin turned even paler in his grasp.
Liliette twisted, trying to break free, but the weight of his body pinned her down. His imposing frame loomed over her, his scent—heady, masculine, and overwhelming—making her feel like a deer trapped in a lion’s paw.
“Sins? That’s a word more suited for me than you,” the Duke murmured in a low, rich voice reminiscent of distant thunder. It carried a hint of barely contained rage, though Liliette was too stunned to register it—it was the first time she had ever heard him speak. “Tell me, who were you mourning in that black dress on our wedding day?”
Liliette was covered from neck to toe in a deep black gown. The stiff, matte fabric was devoid of any decoration, its severity more suited for mourning than celebration. Perhaps it was even too modest for grief.
“Was it your first husband, who died in battle? Or the second, who succumbed to illness?”
“It isn’t like that. I promise… Ah!”
Liliette gasped as his ruthless hand slipped beneath her dress, the fabric crumpling noisily as if echoing the scream she couldn’t voice. She knew exactly where his hand was headed. As it slid up her inner thigh, she felt her belly twist with fear. His grip on her hair tightened, forcing her head up. Her eyes wide with panic, she glanced at the holy relics and statues on the wall, guilt weighing on her.
“Or were you perhaps thinking about my impending death?”
Liliette squeezed her eyes shut as his voice cut through the air like a condemnation. Today, Duke Vladimir de Winter was to become her third husband, and their wedding ceremony should have been taking place in this chapel at that very moment. However, she found herself unable to respond—his fingers had already found their way to her most intimate place.
But what came next took her by surprise. His thick, calloused fingers spread her folds, brushing lightly over her hidden pearl. She felt her body go rigid. Until now, intimacy had always been a crude experience—a series of rough grasping and groping, quickly followed by mechanical, dispassionate penetration. Her second husband had rarely even managed that.
She had expected the Duke to invade her the same way—forcefully and without care—while she was still dry with fear. But instead, he bent down and kissed the nape of her neck, peeking through her loose hair. His movements were slow and deliberate, each touch languid and seductive as his lips grazed over her sensitive skin. With every kiss, every graze of his teeth, a shiver shot down her spine. Then, he pressed against a spot she hadn’t even known existed, sending a wave of tingling sensations coursing through her. For the first time, she realized a woman could feel pleasure.
“Ah, oh… Ah…!” she cried out.
He continued rubbing her swollen nub with his thick, relentless fingers, the pressure building with each movement. A soft moan escaped her lips as her lower body stiffened, a strange warmth pooling in her belly. Overwhelmed by the whirlwind of sensations, she gasped for air, her breaths shallow and uneven like a fish out of water. She could hardly believe the obscene sounds coming from her own mouth.
“No… stop. This feels… strange. Please…!” she begged, her words slurring.
But his fingers continued to expertly press and rub with precision. Her breath matched the rhythm of his movements, coming in heavy, uneven bursts. Suddenly, something sharp and hot bubbled up from deep within her, alarming in its intensity.
“Ah… Your Grace, this… this is… terrifying! Please, stop!”
Pleasure surged through Liliette’s body, all the way down to her fingertips, making her eyes roll back as her legs trembled uncontrollably. She gasped, forgetting how to breathe as the overwhelming sensations washed over her. His fingers, which had been gripping her hair, now slipped into her mouth and pressed down on her tongue.
“Relax,” he whispered in her ear. “Exhale slowly. Yes, just like that.”
He gently stroked her pubic hair as if to soothe her. As her breath slowly returned, he began to swirl his fingers inside her mouth, his movements slow and deliberate. His gentle exploration of her mouth drew soft, excited breaths from her. Her legs, now completely weakened, gave out as she collapsed onto the altar, surrendering to the lingering warmth of her first climax.
Seizing the moment, the Duke’s firm fingers slid down, caressing the inside of her thighs, just near her sex. Each time he brushed the valley between her damp legs, her hips and waist jerked involuntarily. The teasing left Liliette breathless, her body already yearning for more. Sensing this, his breath became rough with excitement, brushing against the nape of her neck.
“Now, tell me,” he murmured. “What were you doing here?”
His low voice, akin to a primal threat emerging from the darkness, made the hairs on her nape stand up. Clinging to what was left of her sanity, Liliette managed to stammer a reply.
“I was thinking… about myself. I was praying for forgiveness. I prayed th-that this time, my husband wouldn’t die. Please, you must believe me…”
He loosened his grip on her hair, his large hand beginning to gently stroke her locks instead. “Now we’re finally being honest. Well done.”
His words were kind, almost like praising a child, but his voice was thick with a dangerous undertone of desire. He kissed her neck again, this time tenderly. The powerful arm that had been pinning her head down slipped beneath her, sliding between the altar and her torso. His large hand cupped her breast from below, lifting and caressing it with a reverence that sent shivers down her spine. As he grazed her hardened nipple through the fabric of her dress, soft moans escaped her lips. With slow, deliberate pressure, he pinched her nipple through the fabric, rolling and squeezing it. Liliette cried out, the sensation sending another wave of pleasure through her as the simultaneous stimulation above and below muddled her thoughts. Then, his fingers, which had been caressing her slick thighs, plunged back between her folds.
Liliette knew where his hand was headed next. With a wet sound, his fingers rubbed against her entrance, making her hips jerk in response. Her body was still trembling from her climax, her nerves firing with every touch. Her swollen sex seemed ready to engulf him, spilling warmth as she felt pleasure overtake her again, filling her with dread. She wasn’t sure what had just happened to her, but it was clear that he was about to take her.
She desperately shook her head. “I can’t… take any more. This is too much…”
For Liliette, intimacy with a man had always been either dull or painful. With the Duke, it was obvious which it would be; he was, after all, Vladimir de Winter, the Emperor’s illegitimate son and a war hero infamous for his cruelty.
“You have a habit of lying,” the Duke hissed in her ear. “You’re soaking wet, practically dripping. If this continues, you might just melt away.“
His words sent a rush of heat to her lower body. With all her strength, Liliette squeezed his arm between her legs. His skin felt like a heated stone.
“If you enter me, you’ll die too. I don’t want that. I don’t want you inside me. Not anymore… Ah!”
The sensation of his fingers plunging into her made her head snap back, her entire body reacting to the intrusion. His fingers moved greedily within her, causing her face to flush as he explored her depths. Any trace of fear, guilt, and shame melted away as she pressed her head against the altar, her hips moving in time with his hand. Pleasure radiated from her core to the tips of her fingers, making her moan loudly as tears streamed down her face. As his thrusts quickened, the lewd, wet sounds echoed through the chapel.
Gripping her by the hair, the Duke growled, “If I die because of you, it would be exactly what I want.”
Liliette could only gasp beneath him, her mind going blank as her body surrendered completely. When he pressed against a spot deep inside her, her body convulsed, and she released a loud cry. He held her hips firmly, stimulating her most sensitive spot until an intense, burning sensation erupted in her lower abdomen.
“Oh, oh! I can feel it… coming again. No, no… Ah…!”
Her sex clenched around his fingers as if trying to push them away. The Duke released a low, excited breath, his movements unyielding. The overwhelming pleasure made Liliette’s fingers and toes curl stiffly as wave after wave of rapture consumed her. He leaned over her, pressing her down as his hand delved deeper.
“You are mine now. Never forget this… any of it,” he whispered, his words echoing distantly in her ears as her vision blurred to white.