Isla placed the glass container firmly on the sturdy wooden table.
She turned to Lucier, her voice dripping with an exhausted, completely unimpressed edge.
'There. It is entirely handled. If your pathetic little panic attack is finally over, I would highly appreciate it if we could go to sleep now; I am incredibly exhausted.'
Lucier's cowardly demeanor vanished in a single heartbeat.
A dark, overwhelmingly predatory smirk slowly stretched across his handsome face.
He took a confident step forward, quickly grabbing her waist and forcefully pulling her directly against his hard chest.
'Sleep?' he murmured smoothly, his breath hot against her skin. 'My sweet, beautiful bride... did you entirely forget that tonight is our glorious first night together?'
Isla's mind violently crashed to a horrifying halt.
"Oh, dear heavens, I actually did completely forget," she thought, a sickening, terrifying wave of pure panic washing over her.
"I have to let this arrogant, pathetic excuse for a prince actually touch me. Oh, mighty heavens, you could have easily forced me to marry a literal donkey, and it would have been vastly preferable to this disgusting mule! I have to willingly get close to him... ew."
'Isla? Where exactly did you just wander off to?' Lucier asked, his voice dripping with false concern as he trailed a cold finger down her pale cheek. 'You were not getting ahead of yourself and thinking about the beautiful things we are going to do tonight, were you?'
'I... no, I was not,' she stammered, frantically taking a slow, trembling step backward.
'I have been eagerly anticipating this exact moment for an incredibly long time,' Lucier whispered darkly, his eyes burning with a victorious hunger.
'Tonight, I can officially say it... I love you, Isla.'
The very words sounded completely wrong coming from his lips. Time itself seemed to violently freeze.
As Lucier confidently stepped closer, Isla instinctively backed away, her feet retreating across the plush rug.
'Why on earth are you backing away from me, Isla?' he asked, his dark eyes narrowing slightly.
'You explicitly agreed to this magnificent marriage of your own free will, did you not?'
'Y-yes... yes, of course I did,' she stuttered, her heart hammering a wild, erratic rhythm against her ribs as she continued to retreat.
'Then that simply means you desire this magnificent union just as deeply as I do,' he purred, closing the distance.
Suddenly, the back of Isla's knees hit the solid edge of the grand bed. With nowhere left to run, she instantly lost her balance, violently falling backward onto the plush mattress.
Before she could even attempt to scramble away, Lucier completely trapped her. He fluidly climbed over her, planting his heavy knees firmly on either side of her fragile hips, entirely caging her beneath his dominant frame.
He lunged downward, aggressively capturing her lips in a forceful, completely loveless kiss.
Isla frantically thrashed beneath him. She desperately turned her face to the left and then to the right, desperately trying to escape his suffocating mouth while using her delicate hands to aggressively push against his broad shoulders.
But her resistance was completely futile. Lucier effortlessly grabbed both of her flailing wrists with one large hand, firmly pinning them to the mattress as his wet mouth began to ruthlessly assault her lips, her neck, and her delicate collarbones.
Summoning every single ounce of her remaining strength, Isla brought her knee up and forcefully shoved his heavy chest.
The sudden, violent impact broke his hold just long enough for her to scramble off the bed. She frantically ran to the other side of the room, standing completely frozen before the towering gilded mirror, her chest heaving heavily.
She was wearing a delicate, white nightgown composed of two layers. The outer layer, a sheer, flowing coat, had slipped dangerously low off her left shoulder during the struggle.
Lucier was not deterred in the slightest. He slowly walked up directly behind her, his reflection looming darkly in the mirror. He firmly grabbed her waist, pressing his chest against her back as he began to lay wet, scorching kisses directly upon her exposed shoulder.
Completely terrified, Isla violently twisted out of his grip, desperately sprinting toward the opposite side of the grand chamber. But as she frantically pulled away, Lucier's hand snagged the sheer outer coat.
With a sharp tear, the delicate fabric completely ripped away from her body, remaining tightly clutched in his fist.
Isla stood trembling near the window. The only garment she had left was the impossibly thin, sleeveless inner slip of the nightgown, held up only by two fragile straps.
The translucent fabric completely failed to hide the magnificent, delicate curves of her body.
Lucier stared at her, his eyes heavily darkened with pure lust as he carelessly tossed the torn coat onto the floor. He slowly closed the distance once again, stepping firmly behind her and securely wrapping his arms around her waist.
'If there is a genuine problem, my sweet bride, you can speak up right now,' he whispered, his voice dangerously low.
Isla clamped her lips tightly shut.
She absolutely could not say a single word of protest. This horrifying violation was the sole, tragic reason she had agreed to this marriage.
She absolutely needed the ancient, destructive serpent powers that would only awaken through this cursed union.
'Since you are remaining perfectly silent, I can only assume that you deeply desire exactly what I desire,' Lucier concluded smoothly.
With agonizingly slow, deliberate movements, he began to completely unlace the back of her thin slip.
Isla squeezed her eyes tightly shut, her heart silently breaking into a thousand pieces as the delicate fabric fell entirely away from her trembling body, violently thrown aside into the dark shadows.
Standing completely bare before him, she frantically crossed her arms over her chest in a desperate, panicked attempt to shield herself.
But Lucier simply ignored her silent plea. Standing behind her, his large, cold hands began to ruthlessly roam over her exposed curves, heavily tracing her form as if he were eagerly appraising a piece of fine art.
Suddenly, his rough hand brushed directly over the exact, highly sensitive spot on her waist where Dorian had left a fierce, stinging love bite just hours before.
'Ah!' Isla gasped sharply, a jolt of genuine pain shooting through her nerves.
Lucier completely ignored her pained gasp. He swiftly stepped right in front of her, effortlessly grabbing her waist and pulling her violently forward.
In one smooth motion, he hoisted her entirely off the ground, forcefully sitting her upon his broad, muscular lap before carrying her back to the bed and throwing her roughly onto the mattress.
Before she could even register his next horrifying move, he pulled thick, rough ropes from beneath the pillows.
'What are you doing?!' Isla shrieked in absolute terror as he violently grabbed her wrists.
He entirely ignored her screams, tightly binding her delicate wrists directly to the heavy bedposts.
The rough fibers viciously bit into her skin, causing her an immense, searing pain.
He moved with chilling efficiency, quickly tying her ankles to the bottom posts as well, completely spreading her out and leaving her entirely, helplessly paralyzed.
'Lucier, stop this immediately!' she cried out, tears of genuine pain and terror spilling down her cheeks. 'What on earth are you doing?! Who does this to their wife on their first night?!'
'Well, who knows?' Lucier smirked darkly, securing the final knot.
'Perhaps your mood might suddenly change again, and you might try to run.'
'Lucier, release me right now! I am your legally wedded wife, not some pathetic prisoner you can violently torture!' she screamed, thrashing wildly against the unyielding ropes.
Suddenly, a loud, cold, and profoundly terrifying laugh violently erupted from Lucier's lips.
The sinister sound echoed horribly through the dim chamber. He slowly sat down on the edge of the mattress, casually resting his elbows on his knees as he stared down at her bound, trembling form.
'Seriously?' he asked, his voice dripping with pure, mocking venom.
'Do you honestly think I am such an absolute, pathetic fool that I would not recognize exactly who you are... Miss Francisco?'
Isla's breath violently hitched in her throat. Her brilliant blue eyes widened in sheer, unadulterated shock.
"Miss Francisco."
It was the incredibly secretive, dangerous pseudonym she used exclusively in her hidden life.
Absolutely no one in the royal court was supposed to know that name.
Desperately trying to mask her suffocating terror, she feigned absolute confusion.
'What... what on earth are you talking about? Who is Miss Francisco? I am Princess Isla! Perhaps you have simply drunk far too much wine, Lucier; the alcohol has clearly gone to your head!'
Lucier stood up slowly, a deadly, victorious smirk completely transforming his handsome face into something truly monstrous.
'Oh, the alcohol has absolutely not gone to my head, my sweet, beautiful bride,' he whispered darkly, leaning down until his face was mere inches from hers.
'It seems the absolute arrogance of your hidden power has entirely gone to yours.'
Isla was completely, irrevocably stunned.
"What... how does he know?!"