Chapter 1
**Clarissa’s POV**
I'm staring into the mirror, my hands trembling at my sides. Smudged mascara clings to my lashes, evidence of the tears that have left their mark on my reddened cheeks. My silky smooth brown hair is meticulously tucked into a fishtail braid, an exquisite bridal hairstyle that feels too beautiful and too perfect for my current circumstances.
My body language betrays a mix of emotions - a tense jaw, clenched fists - as I reflect on this moment. This bridal hairstyle, a symbol of the life I never wished for, a life not built on love but on duty.
The weight of the day hangs heavily on me; it's my wedding day, after all. Beyond the closed door of my apartment, the royal guards stand sentinel, a constant reminder that my freedom has been exchanged for the title of a bride, yet my role feels more like that of a prisoner within the palace.
I can't help but imagine how different things might have been if my mother were still alive. If my father hadn't remarried my stepmother, setting in motion the events that led me to this point. If I were still seventeen, not eighteen and forced into this situation. If I had never entered that ballroom, where Prince Cone's predatory eyes found me and declared me his Mate.
As I recount these thoughts, my gaze shifts from the mirror to the distant horizon, my eyes welling up with fresh tears. I had only entered the ballroom briefly, sent there by my stepmother to deliver cakes and drinks to the Chef server. I had no inkling of the life-altering encounter that awaited me.
I left the serving area for just a few minutes, lured by the enchanting music filling the ballroom. Little did I know that in those moments, Prince Cone, a Lycan Prince would spot me, alone in a corner, and that our lives would be forever entwined. The mate pull, an inexplicable force that neither of us could resist, bound us together in an instant.
Our fate seemed sealed, and I couldn't help but wonder if a different kind prince from another kingdom might have been a better match. But destiny had other plans, pairing me with Prince Cone, the infamous Lycan prince known for his arrogance and heartlessness. My body tenses further as I remember that no one dares to challenge him. He takes what he wants, with no consequences, thanks to his powerful Lycan Kingdom, Goldova.
Even my stepmother, who wanted me gone at any cost, couldn't defy his command to prepare me for this forced marriage. Not even the Alpha of our pack, once my father's best friend, could intervene to save me.
My breathing quickens as I recall the lightning-fast pace of events: Prince Cone saw me, married me forcefully, and turned me into his prisoner bride, all within a week.
Now, alone in this opulent bathroom, only hours after the wedding, I can't hold back the tears any longer. The prospect of living in a grand palace like this would have thrilled any girl, but Prince Cone's reputation as a heartless and arrogant ruler casts a shadow of dread over me.
Suddenly, a loud bang on the door jolts me from my thoughts, and I instinctively jump away from the mirror. Has he arrived already? My heart races as his thunderous voice demands entry.
"Clarissa!" His voice rumbles with authority, making my chest tighten. I rush to the door, my hand trembling as I grasp the handle and open it slowly.
There he stands, the imposing figure of Prince Cone. His tall, broad-shouldered frame exudes confidence, and his handsomeness carries an air of arrogance. Chiseled jaws and strong cheekbones frame his face, and his dark green eyes gleam like precious gemstones set in a midnight sky.
Dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit, he looks every bit the regal prince, his attire contrasting sharply with my disheveled appearance.
"What have you been doing in here?" He surveys my tear-stained face, his voice dripping with disdain. "Cry baby. If you think crying on your first night with me will stop me from claiming what's mine, you're mistaken." His hand moves swiftly, gripping my jaw firmly. "Look up, Clarissa!"
I obey, my body trembling uncontrollably. His wicked smirk sends a chill down my spine as he uses his free hand to pull my waist closer to his, pressing me against his body. The outline of his masculinity presses against me, a stark reminder of our situation.
His eyes bore into mine as he leans closer, his voice low and threatening. "You're too weak to be my mate. You should be grateful I married you before taking your virginity."
I struggle to hold back my tears, my fear palpable. The Prince turns me around and begins to impatiently unzip my wedding gown. The delicate fabric snags, and he loses his patience, tearing the dress apart with a hiss.
Standing there in just my underwear, I feel vulnerable and exposed. He remains behind me, his hands exploring my body, his breath hot against my skin. The realization dawns on me that he intends to take me here, in this bathroom, on our first night.
"Walk," he commands, his voice a menacing whisper in my ear. My legs wobble as I obey, taking hesitant steps. Then, he adds another command, his tone chilling. "And bend over for me."
My legs shake as I comply, fear gripping me tighter than any physical restraint. I dare not protest or voice my feelings; my fear of him outweighs everything, even my own dignity.
In the mirror's reflection, I watch as Prince Cone begins to undress himself with the same air of authority that has marked his every action since our unfortunate encounter. First, he removes his top, revealing a well-defined chest, then his shirt, exposing the taut muscles beneath, and finally his pants, leaving him bare in all his intimidating glory.
My breath hitches as he strides toward me, his grip on my hips unyielding as he forcefully rips away my panties. He positions me, pulling me closer to him, preparing to claim me as his own.
Our eyes meet through the mirror, and there's no warmth in his gaze, no sign of empathy or connection. He simply grasps the tail of my braided hair and yanks it back, causing my neck to arch painfully.
"This is going to hurt," he warns, his voice devoid of tenderness, as if bracing me for the inevitable. "You better remain still."
With a swift, merciless thrust, he enters me, tearing through my defenses and causing me to cry out in searing pain. My body tenses, and the tears I'd been holding back stream down my cheeks, my voice a trembling whisper.
