I signed the contract thinking it was just my body on the line.
A fertile vessel for his legacy, nothing more. Paid handsomely to spread my legs in sun-scorched halls heavy with jasmine and forgotten promises. I'd keep my heart locked away, my fire banked low. Independence was my armor, after all. No man breaks it.

Then he touched me.
That sardonic mouth curling as he pins me to crimson silk sheets, sweat binding us like a curse. His hunger isn't duty, it's possession, clawing past my defiance until I'm arching, gasping, begging for the seed that could chain us forever. Furious words turn to ragged breaths, clashes dissolving into release that shakes my soul. He's armored isolation wrapped in royal steel, denying he needs this heat between us. But in the sterile glow of that medical suite, his hand trembles on my skin, vulnerability cracking his control. Salvation stares back from my eyes, and he hates it.

This was never supposed to feel real.
His throne demands an heir without strings, impregnating a bound woman like me twists duty into something forbidden, throbbing with unequal power. One slip, and his unyielding command shatters, his guarded heart exposed to ruin. Me? I risk everything in his grip, the spark he ignites threatening to burn my walls to ash. Will I survive craving the man who owns me, or will his obsession devour us both before the test confirms our fate?