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Three days later, I was learning to navigate the hostile court.

Every courtier watched me with barely concealed contempt. The enemy princess. The defeated. The claimed. Christian's possession on display.

I held my head high despite their stares. Despite the whispers that followed me through every corridor. My father had taught me dignity. I would not give them the satisfaction of seeing me break.

The bond hummed constantly in my chest now. A golden chain I could never remove. Christian and I had learned to shield our surface thoughts from each other, but emotions bled through regardless. I felt his presence always. A dark weight in the back of my mind.

He was in a council meeting. I felt his boredom, his controlled impatience with his father's political maneuvering. The distance between us made the bond ache with uncomfortable pressure.

I turned down a deserted corridor, seeking escape from the crowds. From their judgment. From the constant performance of strength I could barely maintain.

A hand grabbed my arm.

I spun, magic rising instinctively. Silver lightning crackled across my fingertips.

Lord Garrett. A minor noble with wandering hands and breath that reeked of wine even at midday. He had been watching me at yesterday's dinner with undisguised hunger.

"Unhand me." My voice was steady despite the fear spiking through my veins.

"Why?" He backed me against the wall, his grip tightening. "You spread your legs for the Shadow Commander. Why not share with the rest of us?"

His other hand reached for my dress. Tore at the fabric.

Terror flooded through me. Magic surged in response. I would kill him. I wanted to kill him.

Before I could strike, a shadow moved.

Christian materialized from the darkness like a nightmare given form. His hand closed around Garrett's throat, lifting him off the ground with inhuman strength.

Garrett's eyes went wide. He clawed at Christian's wrist, gasping for air that would not come.

"She is mine." Christian's voice was soft. Lethal. "And you touched what belongs to me."

Through the bond, I felt his fury. Not at Garrett's assault on me. At the violation of his property. His possession. His claim.

The distinction should have disgusted me. Instead, primal satisfaction surged through me. Through the bond, amplified by his own dark pleasure in violence.

He was protecting me.

The possessiveness in his brutality made my pulse spike with something that was not fear.

Garrett's face turned purple. Christian did not release him. Did not look away as the light faded from the lord's eyes. Only when the body went completely limp did he drop it.

The corpse hit the floor with a wet thud.

Christian turned to me.

His eyes were black with rage and something more dangerous. Through the bond, I felt his restraint snapping. Felt the violence still singing through his veins, demanding an outlet.

He crossed the space between us in two strides. His hand slammed against the wall beside my head, caging me.

I was trapped between the stone and his body. I should run. My legs would not obey. Heat flooded my core.

"You are mine," he snarled. Not a question. A declaration of ownership.

Through the bond, I felt his hunger. Raw. Possessive. Consuming. My body answered with traitorous want.

His mouth crashed down on mine.

The kiss was brutal. Claiming. Punishing. Pain and pleasure detonated through the bond. My magic tangled with his, a violent fusion that made us both gasp.

I should bite him. Should push him away. Instead, my hands fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer.

This was not desire. This was corruption. Surrender to the monster who destroyed my world.

But I could not stop.

His hands were rough, demanding. One gripped my hip hard enough to bruise. The other tangled in my hair, pulling my head back to deepen the kiss.

Every touch burned. Every burn felt like ecstasy.

My mind screamed betrayal. My body opened like a flower to darkness.

He lifted me. Pinned me against the wall. His hips pressed against mine, and I felt his hardness through too many layers of fabric. The contact made me moan into his mouth.

"Say it," he growled against my lips. "Say you are mine."

"I hate you."

"Say it anyway."

His hand slid up my thigh, pushing my skirts out of the way. His fingers found the wetness between my legs. Proof of my body's complete betrayal.

"You are already wet for me." His voice was dark satisfaction. "Your body knows what it wants, even if your mind refuses to accept it."

I gasped as his fingers pushed inside. The invasion was intimate. Violating. Perfect.

"Fight me again," he said, his thumb circling the bundle of nerves that made my vision go white. "I will take you against this wall and remind you who owns you."

The bond amplified everything. His pleasure became mine. My pleasure became his. A feedback loop of sensation that built and built until I could not distinguish where I ended and he began.

When I shattered, he swallowed my scream with another bruising kiss.

In the aftermath, he released me. Stepped back. His expression was cold, controlled once more. But through the bond, I felt the hunger still clawing at him.

"Clean yourself up," he ordered. "You will attend dinner tonight. At my side."

He turned to leave. Paused.

"And Princess?" His eyes met mine, black and bottomless. "If another man touches you, I will carve him apart. Slowly."

The door at the end of the corridor closed behind him.

I slid down the wall, trembling. Lord Garrett's corpse lay three feet away. The evidence of Christian's violence. His possessive claim.

The worst part was not the death.

It was the wetness between my thighs. The echo of pleasure still pulsing through my veins. The knowledge that I had surrendered completely to my enemy in a moment of weakness.

I hated him.

And I craved more.