Caelan does not beg for a queen’s affection. He demands truth. He demands loyalty. And behind closed doors, he demands the one thing Elara refuses to surrender: control. Her defiance becomes his favorite challenge, her composure the battlefield where he intends to win. He presses closer, strips away excuses, and offers her a choice that is far more dangerous than any decree: step into his darkness willingly, or keep fighting the desire that has already started to bloom in her veins.
Because the longer Elara tries to look away, the more her body betrays her. His voice becomes a command she aches to obey. His touch becomes a temptation she cannot forget. And the crown is not the heaviest thing she carries.
