Raven King’s Bride

Listen!

Freya’s legs trembled as she was led into the grand dining hall. The room was enormous, its scale dwarfing her with its towering ceilings and intricately carved walls. The table stretched endlessly, laden with delicacies that looked as if they belonged in a king’s feast—which, of course, they did. Roasted meats glistened with juices, vibrant vegetables were arranged like works of art, and desserts shimmered with powdered sugar and rich syrups. The air was thick with the aroma of spices and something else—something dark and overwhelming, like the presence of the man seated at the far end of the table.

The Raven King

He sat with the casual authority of someone who commanded everything and everyone in the room, his black eyes fixed on her with a predatory intensity. His gaze roamed over her slowly, deliberately, as though savoring every detail. The way his lips quirked into the faintest smirk made her skin prickle with awareness. He didn’t speak as she approached, but the weight of his attention pressed against her like a physical force.

Her breath hitched, her pulse racing as she sat down across from him. His piercing gaze didn’t waver, and she felt it slide over her like a touch—a heated, invisible caress that left her skin tingling and her nerves fraying.

“Well, you look presentable,” he said shortly, his voice low and rich, the words clipped but layered with something she couldn’t quite name.

Freya’s cheeks burned, but she refused to look away. Instead, she steeled herself and began to speak, determined to find a way out of this nightmare.

“Mr Raven King,” she started, her voice trembling slightly. “I think there’s been some kind of misunderstanding. I’m not who you think I am.”

Rion didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, his strong hands resting lightly on the arms of the seat. His black eyes, so dark they seemed to hold no light, wandered over her face, lingering on her soft curls and the way they framed her flushed cheeks.

She shifted nervously, the movement drawing his attention lower, to the delicate curve of her neck and the way her chest rose and fell with each breath. The dress she wore, scandalously low-cut by her standards, revealed more of her skin than she was comfortable with, and she clutched the fabric self-consciously.

Rion’s lips twitched into a faint smile. He could see the way her hands trembled, the way she tried to maintain her composure despite the fear and uncertainty radiating off her. She was beautiful—stunning, even—though she didn’t seem to realize it. Her brown eyes shone with fire, her soft pink lips trembled as she spoke, and the subtle freckles dusting her cheeks only added to her natural allure.

But it wasn’t just her appearance that captivated him. It was her scent. Sweet and warm, like sunlight filtering through a forest. The moment he had caught her in the air, it had nearly undone him. Even now, with her seated several feet away, it filled his senses, stirring something primal within him. That very moment he had known. She was his fated bride.

“I’m just a simple teacher,” she continued, her voice rising slightly as she tried to reason with him. “I’m not a queen or a princess or… or anything like that. I’m just a normal person. You’ve made a mistake.”

Rion didn’t hear a word she said. He was too focused on the way her lips moved, soft and inviting, the faintest hint of gloss catching the light. He imagined what they would feel like against his own—what they would taste like.

The thought sent a surge of heat through him, and he shifted in his seat, his sharp gaze locking onto her again. She was nervous, yes, but there was also fire in her, a spark of defiance that both frustrated and intrigued him.

Freya leaned forward slightly, her desperation mounting. “Please,” she said, her voice cracking. “I’m not meant to be here. I couldn’t possibly be your bride. Someone as great as you deserves—”

Her words faltered as she noticed the way he was looking at her. His eyes were darker now, hooded, his expression unreadable but intense. There was a tension in the air, a charged silence that made her stomach twist.

“Are you even listening to me, Mr Raven King?” she snapped, frustration breaking through her fear.

Rion blinked, momentarily startled by her outburst. Then, his lips curled into a slow, predatory smile. The way she called him by title as if it was a made up alias amused him.

He leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on the table. “Oh, I’m listening,” he said, his voice low and smooth, sending a shiver down her spine.

Freya swallowed hard, her heart pounding. There was something about the way he looked at her, the way his voice wrapped around her like velvet, that made her feel both exposed and… something else. She shoved the thought away, focusing instead on her rising anger.

“You people can’t even be real!” she exclaimed. “And let’s just say you are. Even so, I have a boyfriend. I can’t be your bride.”

The moment the word boyfriend left her lips, the atmosphere in the room shifted. Rion’s expression darkened, his jaw tightening as a scowl crossed his face.

“The cheating bastard?” he said coldly, his tone dripping with disdain.

Freya froze, her eyes wide. “How do you… How could you possibly know that?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“It doesn’t matter,” Rion said, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. “What matters is that you’re mine now. It doesn’t matter whether you have a boyfriend, a husband, or anyone else. You belong to me.”

His words sent a shiver down her spine, and she stared at him, her mouth dry.

“You cannot sweet-talk me into letting you go,” he continued, rising to his full height. The movement was graceful, predatory, and she felt her heart skip a beat. His tall figure loomed over her. “This is your permanent home now, and I suggest you familiarize yourself with the kingdom as soon as possible.”

Without another word, he turned and strode toward the door, his movements smooth and confident.

“Please, Mr. Rion Raven King,” Freya called after him, her voice breaking as tears streamed down her face. “Please let me go.”

He paused for just a moment, his footsteps faltering, but he didn’t turn around. Instead, he walked out, leaving her alone with her sobs echoing in the empty hall.