There’s nothing but darkened shadows and dim lighting.

I walk into her room, but I don’t see her, and for a second I think maybe she’s escaped.

I have incoming guards to watch her room, but they’re not here yet.

Our plan to capture the princess was so last minute that we didn’t have time to arrange everything. I knew to bring her here, away from the city, but everything else still needs to be put into place.

I walk through the space looking for her, and then I see the balcony doors open. I curse myself for giving her the freedom to go outside.

What was I thinking?

Death might be on the mind of my princess, or maybe she was dumb enough to try to escape down the ivy.

I realize my mistake too late as I run to the doors and don’t see her there.

Please god, tell me she didn’t fling herself over the edge, ending all of this drama.

Upon opening the doors wide open, I see my beautiful angel, standing in the rain at the side of the house and getting all wet. She’s totally drenched.

I wrap my arms around her and pull her inside.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I ask her. “You trying to kill yourself?”

“I don’t know, am I?” she says, looking at me with defiance in her eyes.

What did I expect? I’m keeping her here against her will. It’s her Montague prison.

“That was a stupid move, Isobel. You could’ve died,” I say, not knowing what to say or how to pull away and end the conversation.

I want to be with her. I want to finish what we’ve started.

She looks at me with rage all over her face and demeanor. “Yeah, so? What do you care if I die? You’ve been taking advantage of me since the moment we first met.”

She looks at me, daring me to say the truth. She knows it, and I know it.

We’re walking the faint line between lust and love. I knew from the moment I set eyes on her, shirking under the weight of the Governor’s arm, that she was mine.

This is love. It’s a lot more complicated than I ever would’ve thought. But it’s love all the same.

It’s something I never thought to feel, and yet here she is, shaking in my arms, cold from the chill of the rain.

How could she come so close to danger? Standing outside in the rain like that was a reckless move, and I intend to make her pay.

I pull her into my arms and hold her tightly despite the fact that she’s trying to get away from me. She’ll never get out of my grasp, that I know for sure.

“Don’t say that, Isobel. Don’t talk about death like that—like it’s such a small thing,” I say to her seriously.

“Then why, Tristan? Why did you have to kidnap me? And lie to me? You know I might’ve gone willingly.”

I retort, “No, Isobel. You ran away from me. What else was I supposed to do? Let you go to the arms of the Governor forever?”

She pulls back away from me, and I let her go. She looks sad.

She’s still wearing my suit jacket, as well as her silk robe and white lingerie. But all of it is soaked through.

She takes the jacket off. I watch her closely, admiring every curve of her beautiful body.

“So, your solution was to barge in on me, take me away from everything I love, and bring me out here to god knows where?”

She’s down to the just the rain-soaked robe. I can see the slim lines of her body beneath it, and I have to tell myself that it’s not right. The girl’s a fucking virgin.

Yes, I owe her apologies, maybe...but I’m not an apologetic man.

“I had to do it. You think I was just gonna stand by and let you marry that man, the Governor? Fuck, Isobel. The guy’s a criminal.”

“Well, so are you!” she says furiously, and it’s the truth.

I have no recourse except to tell her the truth.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, do you realize that?” I say, admitting it all in a kind of defeat.

She looks at me with a certain amount of caution in her eyes, and it starts to register. Yes, my feelings are real. She’s not alone in this.

“You did it to get me away from the Governor?” she asks.

“Well, you didn’t give me much of a choice, did you? You ran away from me, Isobel. Don’t ever do that again,” I say to her sternly, meaning every word.

She shakes out her hair, and I just watch, wanting to touch her, to go to her, to crush her beneath the weight of my body.

“You know I’d never been kissed before tonight?” she says lightly.

I can believe it. Her father’s had her chained up within that skyscraper for as long as I can remember. I’d hear stories of Isobel Capulet and how beautiful she is, but I never dreamed it could be true, that she could be so...fucking perfect.

“And so? Was it worth the wait?” I say, taking a seat on her bed.

The place is outfitted perfectly. It’s opulent, but that’s the Montague way.

She ignores my question and says, “Turn around so I can change.”

Is this it? Is she forgiving me now?

I don’t turn around. My gaze is set on her, and I make sure she knows it.

“Don’t run from me again, Isobel. Let me see you,” I say, knowing that the moment I truly capture her is upon us.

She walks toward me. The sexual tension is more apparent than ever. There’s no escaping this thing we have.

Her long blonde hair is wet, and it drips onto my pants. I stare up into her crystal blue eyes.

There’s no going back.

I run my hands up her thighs. I pull the robe down off her body, and her perfect tits come into view, constrained only by the flimsy lace bra she’s wearing.

She says, “Why did you have to kiss me like that and make me fall in love?”

“Love? How can you love me? You don’t even know me,” I say, brushing off her comment like it’s not even true, like I don’t also feel the raging torrent of emotions that she brings down upon me.

“Don’t you want me?” she says, taking my hand and sliding it up her torso, across her flat stomach that trembles to my touch, then to her breasts.

I clutch at her bra and yank it off. Her beautiful tits are almost more than I can bear.

I become hungry. Hungrier than ever before.

Pulling her toward me, I take a handful of her tits and slam her down on the bed where I can finally have my way with her.

I kiss her nipples and tease them with my tongue, devouring her all too quickly.

It’s hard to hold back. She can and will be my little slave forever. I’ll have her begging for it and running no more.

She cries out softly but tangles her fingers through my hair as if that could stop me. There’s no going back now. She’s mine.

“But, Tristan, how can this work? A Capulet and a Montague? We’ll both be disowned.”

“Fuck them,” is all I say as I growl my way down her belly to her tender sweetness. “You’re a virgin, right?”

She sits up and attempts to stop me. “Tristan, I’m serious. We could die from this.”

I stare into her eyes and find a sincerity there that’s compelling.

“Baby, why don’t you let me worry about them, and you just worry about giving me this moment?”

The gravity of the situation has been weighing on my shoulders since the moment I took her. I know she’s right, of course.

Once her father finds out that it’s me who has her, he’ll go on a killing spree like never before. We are in danger. I put her in danger.

But I can’t imagine it’s any worse than what she’d have to experience being with the Governor.

I make an internal note to see that he dies for almost taking this sacred moment, her virginity, from me.

“Tristan, we can’t. It can’t be...”

“Love?” I say the word before she can. “It is love, Isobel. I feel it, too, and now I’m going to devour you and show you just how it feels to be loved by a Montague.”

“Tristan, this can’t be real. This can’t be happening,” she says.

I pull her towards me and deliver her a kiss like no other, one that she’ll remember for the rest of her life.

I scrape my teeth along her bottom lip, and I taste her. She moans a little into my mouth.

I look into her blue eyes that suddenly seem a shade or two deeper.

“It’s real, Isobel. I felt it from the first moment I laid eyes on you. It’s love or lust or eternal desire, whatever you want to call it. But I’m fucking obsessed with you. You are mine. And I promise you that you can trust me.”

She peers up at me from under her long lashes, and all I can think of is how desirable she looks.

I put my hand between her legs and spread them out. I kiss her the whole time, trying to assure her. I’m intending to make this a nice first experience for her.

I won’t be too rough because I know the pain of taking in all twelve inches of me will be enough.

Sliding my hand down between her legs makes her shiver, and that excites me more than anything. I can tell I make her nervous. She should be nervous.

I finger her pussy nice and slow at first. I circle her clit with my thumb, and she looks like she might explode already.

That’s my girl.

I kiss her mouth, her neck, her tits, everything.

“Isobel Capulet, you fucking princess.”

“I’m not a princess,” she objects as I glide my tongue down between her breasts.

“You’re my princess,” I say darkly, trailing kisses down her skin.

She gets wetter by the second, and it’s hard to contain my throbbing erection, but I do. I’m going to make this last for as long as possible. It’s not every day you get to deflower the Capulet heiress.

My lips make contact with her innermost thighs, and she cries out my name.

“Tristan, no, I’m not ready.”

“You’re ready, baby,” I say in hot breaths that make her open to me more.

I finger the walls of her swollen pussy and find her G-spot. She’s clawing at my hair, arms, and shoulders.

I run my lips over her clit, and she begs me to stop.

“Tristan, I just can’t. It’s too much.”

I keep going, knowing her statements are veiled attempts to escape the impossible, my consumption of her.

It takes about two more seconds for her to give in to the furious passion that’s enveloping both of us.

I feel her come before she says it. She cries my name, but her pussy clenches down around my fingers so they can hardly move.

This little virgin is so fucking tight, and I realize what a moment this is.

I’m her first. And her last.

She comes hard, and I take the opportunity to graze my fingers along the walls of her too tight cunt, drawing out the sensations. I kiss her and suck away all of the juices, tasting her essence and dying to know it more.

I need my baby to be nice and wet, wetter than ever before. She needs to be warmed up if she’s going to take in my thick twelve-inch cock. I’m about to deflower her virgin pussy—and trust me, I know what a great responsibility that is.