Anne wake up slowly, her body is heavy and unfamiliar with the softness beneath her - a thick mattress, crisp white sheets and a warm, silky nightgown that brushes her skin. The room is spacious, dimly lit by a flickering fireplace, walls lined with dark wood and heavy curtains drawn. Confused, she sit up, the cool floor beneath her bare feet grounding her as she stand and move towards the heavy wooden door, her fingers searching the handle - locked, unyielding. Panic rises, she turn to the window, the curtains are slightly parted, and the moonlight spills out onto the stone ledge. she quietly crawl up, heart pounding, desperate for freedom - when a calm voice cuts through the silence, and before she can react, strong hands grab her waist and pull her back. his breath is warm on her neck, the scent sharp - leather, musk and something dangerously intoxicating - as he whispers :"Are you running away so fast, little dove?"