Offering a remarkably strained, agonizingly fake smile to the bewildered royal staff, Lucier stiffly limped his way down the grand corridor, his pride completely shattered and his expensive clothes utterly ruined.
The very second he stepped inside his lavish private chambers and the heavy oak doors clicked shut, his composed, aristocratic facade violently crumbled into a million pieces.
'Aaahhhhh!' he shrieked aloud, aggressively clutching his backside as his face contorted in sheer, unadulterated agony.
During his horrific, deeply undignified fall from the carriage, he had sustained a terribly painful, highly embarrassing injury to his rear end—a profoundly humiliating fact that his massive, incredibly fragile ego absolutely forbade him from ever confessing to a single living soul.
Watching this entire pathetic spectacle unfold from the perfectly concealed vantage point of her high bedroom window, Isla tightly covered her mouth to muffle a wicked, utterly triumphant laugh.
*Just look at the grand, majestic prince who supposedly wants to marry me and sweep me off my delicate feet,* she mocked internally, her brilliant blue eyes sparkling with dark, unfiltered amusement.
*The poor, miserable bastard is in so much agonizing pain that he isn't even capable of sitting down properly on a soft cushion anymore... awww, how incredibly tragic.*
Retreating from the window with a beautifully satisfied smirk, Isla walked over to her massive silk bed, letting out a long, deeply contented sigh as she collapsed onto the soft mattress.
'Oh, today was an absolutely magnificent, flawlessly executed day,' she whispered happily to the empty room.
'If only Dorian were here right now, I would eagerly tell him every single hilarious detail... wait a second, the sun has completely set and it is already pitch black outside, which means Dorian must be on his way.
Actually, knowing him, he must have already arrived.'
'I am already here,' a deep, velvety, and incredibly familiar voice rumbled from the shadows of her chamber.
Isla violently jolted in surprise, spinning around only to see him stepping fluidly out from the darkness.
She instantly launched herself across the room, throwing her arms tightly around his strong neck with a massive, beaming smile.
'Do you have any idea how incredibly much I missed you today? And you will absolutely not believe it, but today was just unimaginably spectacular!'
Dorian's muscular arms slowly wrapped around her delicate waist, but his dark eyes held a sharp, dangerous glint of pure, unadulterated jealousy.
'Oh? Was it truly that spectacular?' he murmured, his voice dropping a terrifying octave.
'Did you honestly enjoy roaming around the kingdom with that pathetic Prince Lucier that much?'
Isla playfully slapped his solid shoulder, aggressively rolling her eyes at his absurd insecurity.
'You speak absolute nonsense, Dorian! You already know perfectly well that if there is anyone in this entire world I genuinely like spending my precious time with, aside from my own parents, it is only you.'
A dark, incredibly wicked smirk slowly graced Dorian's handsome face as his intense gaze trailed deliberately down the pale column of her neck.
'Oh, really? If that is the absolute truth, then please tell me... why exactly is the possessive mark I left on your neck last night completely gone? In fact, it seems to have entirely vanished from your entire body.'
Isla's heart violently skipped a beat, and she instantly began to stammer, her cheeks flushing a deep, furious shade of crimson.
'T-that is not true at all... who ever said it is gone? It is... it is just cleverly hidden beneath the thick fabric of my clothes, that is exactly why you cannot see it right now.'
'Then take them off,' he commanded softly, his voice incredibly quiet but dripping with absolute, unwavering authority.
Isla's jaw dropped in sheer disbelief, her breath catching painfully in her throat as she stared at him.
'What... what on earth did you just say?'
'I said exactly what you heard: take them off,' he repeated, his dark eyes locking onto hers with a raw, predatory hunger that sent a violent shiver straight down her spine.
'You know what, Dorian?' Isla breathed out, taking a nervous, trembling step backward.
'When we were children, you were so incredibly innocent, sweet, and gentle... but now, dear gods, you are absolutely terrifying.'
'Why is that?' Dorian countered, matching her retreat with a slow, deliberate, and incredibly lethal step forward, his gaze never once leaving her face.
'Do you suddenly not like my touch anymore? Does it bother you when I get this incredibly close to you?'
He continued his slow, predatory advance, forcing Isla to continuously step backward until her shoulder blades suddenly hit the cold, solid stone wall of the darkest corner of her chamber. She immediately tried to slip away to the right side, but Dorian swiftly slammed his hand flat against the wall, completely trapping her.
When she frantically tried to duck under his other arm to the left, he instantly brought his second hand up, entirely caging her in with no possible route of escape.
There was absolutely zero space left between them; they were standing so incredibly close that not even a single, desperate breath of wind could pass through the nonexistent gap between their bodies.
Without giving her another fraction of a second to protest or escape, Dorian aggressively crashed his lips against hers.
It was a kiss of absolute, consuming desperation—as if he were furiously trying to breathe his very soul directly into her lungs and violently tether their wildly racing hearts together through sheer, unadulterated passion.
It was a deeply intoxicating, punishingly sweet assault that lasted for what felt like an eternity, completely robbing her of all rational thought and melting her royal resolve into absolute nothingness.
Isla weakly brought her trembling hands up, desperately trying to push against his solid, muscular chest to stop the overwhelming, suffocating onslaught of his desire.
But Dorian simply caught her delicate wrist with one hand, effortlessly neutralizing her resistance.
When she frantically tried to push him away with her free hand, he instantly captured that wrist as well, pinning them both firmly together without ever once breaking the scorching, breathless connection of their moving lips.
In one fluid, incredibly powerful motion, he effortlessly swept her off her feet, carrying her directly toward the plush mattress while entirely consuming her mouth.
He laid her down gently against the cool silk sheets, his heavy, burning body following her down as the endless, intoxicating kiss continued to rage like wildfire.
Slowly and deliberately, Dorian began to expertly loosen the delicate, complicated laces of her dress.
Isla's mind frantically screamed at her to stop him, to fight back against this overwhelming, terrifying wave of dark desire, but with her hands firmly trapped within his unyielding, possessive grip, and her senses entirely drowned in the intoxicating, addictive taste of him, she found herself completely, beautifully powerless to do absolutely anything but surrender to the storm.