“Where?” I ask, feeling a dark thrill run through me. “You’re going to take off your clothes and go to that wall. Then you’ll put your palms on the wall over your head while I tie them together. You’ll stick your ass out for me and stay completely still and completely silent. Am I clear?”

“Yes…” she says quietly, looking down.

Even though her submissive posture is making my already-rock-hard dick throb, something seems off. I take a step closer, frowning down at her and waiting.

“It’s just that I was wondering if we were always going to be together like this. In places like this, I mean,” she says, gesturing to the equipment surrounding us.

My stomach sinks. I imagine for the first time what she must think. Every time I’ve had her alone, I’ve taken her straight to some sort of dungeon to satisfy my own dark urges. She hasn’t told me as much, but I’m relatively certain she’s a virgin. Would she really want her first time to be in some dark dungeon, blindfolded and restrained?

Fuck. I’ve been so selfish. I need to set aside my own needs to give her the first time she deserves.

“No,” I say. “It’s always going to be how you want it, Princess. Come with me.” I take her hand, leading her out of the dungeon and up the stairs to my bedroom. It’s a spacious room with exposed rafters, floor-to-ceiling windows with a view of the palace and the mountains beyond, and huge fireplaces at either end.

She eyes the bed and then looks to me with a mischievous smile. “This is really happening, isn’t it?” she asks me.

“It had fucking better,” I laugh. “I might die of blue balls by tomorrow if it doesn’t.”

“Roark… This can’t be undone. If I give this to you, if you take my virginity, our fates are sealed.”

“Princess, our fates were sealed the moment you stepped foot in the Shrouded Kingdom. You are meant to be mine and mine alone.”

Her eyelids flutter down heavily and she backs toward the bed, luring me forward like a siren might lure a sailor into the sea. I follow willingly, stripping pieces of clothing as I move, eyes hungrily taking in every line of her body from the swell of her hips to the soft jiggle of her tits as she steps ever closer to the bed.

I intend to give her the sex she deserves, but even I have limits to my patience, so I advance on her and lift her, tossing her down on the bed. I know her heart must be racing and her body must be flooded with adrenaline because she doesn’t even laugh in surprise, she only keeps those big eyes trained on me and my body as I position myself above her.

“These clothes will have to go, Princess. I’d rip them from you, but I still have to get you back to the palace afterwards. I can’t have the whole city seeing this beautiful body of yours. It’s all mine.”

She arches her back luxuriously as I slide my hands behind her, undoing the clasp holding the straps of her dress together, and then sliding it over her shoulders. I tug down, peeling the silky fabric from her. I barely suppress my groan of want at the way her tits bounce free and at the pale expanse of skin that’s slowly exposed as I undress her. I can’t help myself as I lower my head, running my tongue down the line of her warm skin, breathing in her intoxicating scent as I do.

My plan was to take it slow, to give her so much foreplay that she would explode with orgasm the moment my cock touched her entrance, but I don’t know if I’ll be able to, not now, not with her delectable body spread beneath me.

I pull the dress off her legs and sigh with pleasure at the sight of her soft white panties. They hug her mound, showing the faintest sign of a crease in the center and the beginnings of a wet patch between her legs. “So I can be certain now. You asked how I knew if women wanted it,” I say.

She turns her head to the side, biting her lip and smiling shyly. “I might be a little excited,” she says.

“Bullshit,” I growl, ripping her panties off with a single tug. “You want my cock inside you so badly it hurts.” I strip my pants and briefs, moving back above her so my face is just inches from hers.

“Is that right?” she asks, but her playful intent is betrayed by her parted lips and heavy lids. Her hard nipples and wet pussy tell me everything I need to know.

“You are going to cum all over my cock, Princess, the only question is how long you can last.”

She quirks an eyebrow. “That sounds like a challenge.”

“Because it is,” I say. She may not want her first time to be in the playroom, but that doesn’t mean I can’t still have a little extra fun.

I’m done talking, though. Her plump lips look too perfect to resist any longer. I bend down, kissing her hard and letting my body press into hers. Her soft tits pillow against the hard muscle of my chest. I lower myself so the shaft of my erect cock fits into the crease of her pussy, working my hips as I kiss her until her wetness has spread over my length and I can slide myself against her rhythmically.

She gasps, mouth open to mine in a silent expression of surprise. I kiss down her neck, still rocking myself against her. I hold myself up with one hand so I can roam her body with my other. I take my time, enjoying every inch of her from her fingertips to her tits, down to the sensitive skin between her thighs.

“Just need--a minute--or--” she gasps.

I smirk into her neck, giving her a moment to hold back from cumming by keeping my hips still, but I don’t stop kissing her. I work my way down her chest and across the inside of her breasts, cupping a handful and circling her areola before bringing my lips around her hard nipple. She bucks against me with her eyes squeezed tightly shut.

“Oh, God. That feels so good,” she groans.

“This is just the beginning, Princess.”

I decide she’s had a long enough break--that, and I’m not sure how much longer I can wait to get inside her. I move my hips until the head of my cock presses against her slick entrance. Her eyes snap open.

“You ready?” I ask.

She nods, then swallows hard.

Even though I’d like nothing more than to plunge myself inside her as deeply as I can, I take it slow. I guide myself inside an inch at a time, slowly retreating then giving her another thick inch. Every movement is slow and precise, allowing her tight body to adjust. I take her hand and press it to my chest, reminding her to stay here with me, to breathe slowly and relax. Before long, her rapid breaths calm and our chests rise and fall together.

She lifts her head to look down where we’re joined together, eyebrows drawn down and mouth slightly open.

I realize as I push myself deeper that Elizabeth didn’t just let me hold the darkness down because she gave me an outlet for my violence. There’s something else about her that soothes me. Even though I’m being tender right now and avoiding causing her pain at all costs, I feel the familiar black cloud drifting back into the farthest corners of my mind until it’s only the two of us.

“You feel so fucking good,” I say.

“You’re--oh God--not bad yourself,” she gasps.

With that, something snaps inside me, and I push the rest of my cock into her depths, loving the way her tight pussy chokes my length. She throws her head back and calls my name in a breathless moan. I pause, just long enough to curse myself for doing the opposite of what I intended, but when her eyes open and connect with mine they are filled with lust and need.

Her fingers clench against my chest, her nails digging into my skin as her hips move restlessly against mine. I slowly pull my cock from the hot fist of her pussy until just the tip rests within her. I pause, taking in her heaving chest, flushed cheeks, and the way her body undulates beneath mine, begging me to move.

“Please,” she begs.

“You seem to think that just because I’m taking you sweetly, I’m not still completely in control,” I scold, but there isn’t a hint of fire in my tone.

Her eyes flash with need of a different kind, showing that she has the same desires as me. Proving what I already knew to be fact--that she was made to be mine and mine alone. I grip her hands, pulling them above her head, using one of my hands I hold her wrists, making her a prisoner to my every whim.

“Who do you belong to?”

“You,” she gasps.

I crush my lips to hers and thrust into her in one fierce push. She moans loudly and I swallow her every noise with my mouth, eating them down like the prize that they are. I push into her again and again, taking what I need and in return giving her everything she needs. I lick and nip my way down her throat, barely suppressing the need to mark her pale skin. I shudder at the thought of her wearing my marks for all to see. Soon. Soon she will be mine and she will bear the marks of my possession.

“Roark… I’m going to… I can’t…” she pants each word. “Please… Oh God… Please.”

I suck her sweet nipple into my mouth then bite down adding a hint of pain that causes her whole body to shudder beneath me. Drawing her ever closer to orgasm.

“Are you going to cum for me, Princess?”

“Yes… no… yes…”

I chuckle darkly at her response, loving how lost to me she is. I thrust into her with renewed force, rotating my hips each time to draw out her pleasure. Her pussy flutters against me and I know she’s close. I grip her hip with my free hand, slightly changing the angle so that I’m hitting her g-spot with every thrust. Her sweet lips part in a silent scream as her pussy clenches down on me in release. I let go of my control and ride her to completion, filling her with my seed. Marking her in a way that only we will know.

Afterwards, we share a long shower together and unable to resist her wet skin as it slides against mine, I fuck her against the wall, ignoring the fact that she’s probably sore. I’m enough of a bastard that now that I’ve had her I just want more, consequences be damned. I take her on a quick tour of the house, showing her the main attractions--including the natural pool that’s landscaped to look like a rock-lined lake bowl in the middle of a hill behind the property. I also show her the huge library that takes up the entire third and fourth floors, complete with ladders on rails that slide along the perimeter of the room and grant access to the higher levels of the room. I show her my art collection, which houses several pieces of art thought to be lost, including Rembrandt’s Storm on the Sea of Galilee and Raphael’s Portrait of a Young Man.

When I bring her to my training room, she immediately goes to the rack where a set of training Blade’s rest. She hefts one up, raising her eyebrows at me. “Is this real?” she asks.

“It doesn’t shoot bullets and the blade is dull,” I say. “They are for practicing.”

“Oh…” she says thoughtfully. “Would you show me how to use one?”

I laugh. “What for?”

She glares. “Do I have to have a reason?”

I shrug, moving to take one of the weapons. “Good point. Fine. You want to learn, I can show you a few tricks.”

She jogs to the center of the ring, hiking up her dress as she runs and looking adorably awkward while she holds the training gun like it’s a poisonous snake. She points it at me and does a sad impression of impersonating gunshots.

“What do you need me for?” I ask with a grin. “Seems like you already have this down.”

“Show me how to use the pointy part,” she says.

“Well. Using the pointy part is straightforward. The tricky part is finding a way to get it close enough to your opponent without getting cut yourself. That’s where this comes in,” I say, tapping her free hand. “Your free hand is for grappling. In duels, it’s usually the grappling that determines the winner or loser, not fancy work with the Blade. Here, try to use your weapon on me.”

She flashes a mischievous smile before her eyes turn serious and she starts to inch toward me. She’s pointing the Blade at me like she plans to shoot my head off instead of trying to cut me, so I easily weave inside her reach, pinning her Blade arm to my side and using my free hand to hug her to my body. While I have her close, I steal a quick kiss, pulling away with a smirk.

“Hm,” she says. “So if someone comes at me with one of these, all I have to do is hug them and then kiss them? Should I use tongue?”

Even though I know she’s only kidding, the idea of her kissing someone else makes my stomach burn with acidic heat. “You shouldn’t kiss anyone unless you want me to put a bullet in them,” I say.

She raises her eyebrows. “It’s almost like I have the power to execute people just by kissing them, then. Hmm.”

“Don’t toy with me, Elizabeth,” I say warningly.

She grins. “Fine. Show me some more moves so I don’t have to use the kiss of death.”

“Speaking practically, if a man ever really did come at you with a Blade, he would underestimate you. Give a man a blade and a defenseless target with orders to kill, and nine times out of ten he’ll attack like this.” I demonstrate by pulling my arm back and thrusting the weapon straight toward her chest, stopping a few inches from her skin. “It’s the simplest kill, and it’s the most lethal. But it also is a weak position.”

“Doesn’t look weak,” she notes.

“It is. Just bring your fist up,” I say, taking her arm and bending it at the elbow until she has it in the right position. “Then when I come in with the thrust, side step it and use your fist to punch my arm even farther away from your body.”

I go through the motions a few times until she gets it right.

She blows a loose hair from her face, smiling. “Then what?” she asks.

“Well, then you’ve got to take your opponent down. He’s going to be vulnerable. His weapon is behind you, his body is open to attack pretty much anywhere you want to go. Try it.”

I slowly thrust at her again and she slaps my arm away, jabbing me a little too hard in the side with the practice point. I grab the spot and grunt.

“Sorry!” she says quickly, dropping her weapon and putting her hands beside the spot I’m holding on my side. “I just got excited.”

I grin. “It’s fine. You just caught me off guard. That’s quite a thrust you’ve got there.”

“I was watching your technique earlier,” she says.

I laugh. “I can’t even tell if you’re being dirty or if you’re serious.”

“Can it be both?” she asks.

“Hey, what do you say we get out of here?” I ask suddenly.

“And go where?” she asks.

“Back to the outside. You've got to miss it. At least a little.”

She narrows her eyes. “Why do I feel like you’re not supposed to take me back there?”

“Because I’m not. But I’m also not supposed to take my brother’s bride-to-be out of the palace. I definitely wasn’t supposed to fuck you, either. So as far as I see it, we’ve already broken enough rules that it doesn’t make any difference. C’mon. Maybe you can give me the insider’s tour of the outside.”

“Funny. I think I was just as much of an outsider there as you would be. But sure. Why not?”

Elizabeth and I take my personal car outside the city. Every guard station along the way has scanners that repeatedly check my vehicle to make sure I’m authorized to leave, otherwise a unit of royal guards would mobilize to stop me. Though I’ve never thought about it much before meeting Elizabeth, for people outside the privileged social circles, our world has become more and more like a prison. The common people are more like inhabitants of some sick kind of zoo that the rich keep around for their own amusement.

“What’s wrong?” asks Elizabeth.

Her voice startles me, and I realize I was scowling. “It’s nothing. I’m just thinking of some things I’d like to change if I become king.”

“Like what?” she asks.

“I’m not sure yet. I just don’t think we’re treating the commoners right. I know that much.”

Elizabeth pulls at her finger, making it clear she’s hesitant about what she’s going to say next. “Marcella mentioned how the royal family has done some terrible things to people. Is all that true?”

I sigh. “Terrible things? Yes. I’m sure we have. Some of it is justice. Rules are in place and people break those rules. Some of it though… Like I said, there are things I’d like to change.”

“Have you done any of those terrible things?” she asks.

I glance at her. The lights of the tunnel we’re driving through cast her face in bursts of light followed by near darkness, and in those flashes I see worry written in her expression. She’s worried I’m a monster, and she has fair reason to worry. I also owe it to her to tell her the truth.

“Yes. I have. I’ve carried out executions, and I can’t lie and say none of it was personal. I’m not a good man, Elizabeth. I can’t lie to you about that. Dark rumors surround me for a reason. But I can promise you something. So long as we’re together, I’m a better man. And I think I’ll grow to be a more honorable man than I ever thought I could with you at my side.”

She nods. “I think you’re a better man than you give yourself credit for. I mean, we all do bad things. I think if you’re a powerful person, the bad and good both just get magnified. As long as you’re trying to be better, I’m okay with it. I don’t need to know what you’ve done.”

I reach across to her and take her thigh in my hand. This woman… Where has she been my whole life? Why did I have to endure so many years of shadow before she came to me?

We arrive outside a small, vaguely familiar house on a street crowded with cars. I’ve been to this house before with my brother, a few scattered times over the years when we came to check up on Elizabeth.

Instead of a enjoyable night on the town like I had planned, Elizabeth unfortunately decided she wanted to come here and confront her parents. While I understand her motivation, I don’t see how this is going to end well.

It’s June, but the house still has Christmas lights strung around a manger scene--though in this manger scene, it looks more like Mary and Joseph just dropped baby Jesus in the grass and the three wise men are passed out drunk.

“This is where you grew up?” I ask as I open Elizabeth’s car door and help her out.

She nods, looking toward the house like she’s suddenly regretting asking to come here. “It is. Honestly, it still feels like home. I thought it would feel so weird to come back, but it’s like I’ve just been on vacation.”

“You sure you want to do this?”

“I need to,” she says. “Those people pretended to be my family for eighteen years. They didn’t just treat me like crap, they lied to me. I want to hear their explanation to my face. And I kind of want to show you off to my sisters,” she adds with a little less confidence.

I smirk. “Fair enough. Let’s go.”

We approach the door and I let Elizabeth knock. After a few seconds, a man in his mid-fifties with a soft belly and a pissed off look on his face opens it. “Elizabeth?” he asks, looking past me.

“Can we come in?” she asks.

“We’re coming in,” I say, correcting her and pushing past her foster father--David, which I’m surprised I remember after only scanning her files.

The house smells like burnt popcorn. I see three women sitting on the couch, bathed in blue flickering light from a TV screen as a movie blares from the speakers. Two look to be youngish teenage girls and the other must be her foster mother. The two younger girls immediately sit up so straight when they see us that they spill the bowl of popcorn they were sharing. I can’t remember the names of any of the girls, though I know I came across them in the files as well.

“Elizabeth?” asks the thicker of the two girls with red hair.

Her mother pauses the TV, thrusting us into thick silence.

“I know the truth now,” says Elizabeth. “I know you aren’t my real parents. You knew who I was the whole time, you knew about my parents.” She shakes her head disgustedly, turning to look to her sisters. “You two knew too, didn’t you?”

They say nothing, but the guilt on their faces is plain.

Her dad crosses his arms, leaning back in a casually dismissive way that boils my blood. Foster daughter or not, he raised Elizabeth for eighteen years and he doesn’t even have the fucking dignity to look ashamed when she confronts him for this?

“Sure. We knew,” says David. “But we never wanted you. You came in our fucking house screaming and wailing--some stranger’s baby. We changed your diapers, suffered through sleepless nights, fed you, and we gave you a place to sleep. That’s all they asked us to do. They didn’t pay us to love you. They didn’t even pay us to like you.”

“Pay you?” she asks, turning to me.

I frown, meeting her confused glance with confusion of my own. Payment? “There was nothing about payment in the official files. They said you were distant cousins of Elizabeth’s biological parents and you offered to take her in.”

David scoffs. “No. We were approached by a woman who offered us more money than I could make in twenty years. She said we just had to keep the girl alive until she was eighteen. That was it.”

“You all knew?” asks Elizabeth, looking to her foster mother and sisters.

Her sisters at least have the dignity to look ashamed now, even if her mother is glaring defiantly back. “Anyone would have taken the offer in our position,” she says.

I’ve heard too much to keep quiet. This may be Elizabeth’s chance at finding closure, but I can’t listen to these rats justify their behavior any longer. “Only the lowest scum would hate a child for something completely out of her control. You’re all cowards.”

David ignores me, moving toward Elizabeth and jabbing a finger at her. “Look at you. You think you’re good enough to be a princess? You think you’re better than us now because they dressed you up like a cheap whore and dyed your hair? You were never--”

I slam my fist into David’s jaw. For a man who talks as much as he does, I would’ve thought he’d take the punch better, but he crumbles like I hit him with a sledge hammer. The girls all jump back. Elizabeth’s little sisters clap hands to their mouths, looking from me to the groaning form of their father on the ground.

“Elizabeth is a princess. She’s my princess. And soon, she will be my queen. You may have been too blind to see her for what she is, but I see it, and soon the entire kingdom will.”

Elizabeth looks down at David, who is slowly bringing his knees under him and trying to get up. Her lips contort in sudden rage and she steps forward, kicking him hard in the side and sending him back to the ground.

“Come on,” I say. “We should go back to the palace.” Her sisters watch with obvious envy as I take Elizabeth and guide her out of the house. I help her into the car again and take my spot behind the wheel.

“You okay?” I ask.

“I don’t know what I thought would happen,” she says, staring at the dashboard. “It’s like I was expecting them to apologize, or I just wanted them to know I was happy now, like it would be some kind of revenge. But I guess I understand now, at least. They always resented me. They treated me like crap because they knew one day I’d be living a life they could never have.”

“Do you feel better knowing that?” I ask.

“No,” she says, laughing a little. “Not really. But it felt good kicking him, at least.”

I laugh. “Yeah. It was worth the drive just to knock him out.”