Lachlan's massive frame dominates the stone corridor at dawn, his presence a constant reminder that the bloodline law has chosen Rosamund to bear his heir. The human woman's smaller body responds to him despite the fear that he will claim her completely and then cast her aside once the purpose is served. Their fingers brush when she delivers the sealed message, cracking open a need that threatens his title and her self-respect.

He commands with authority that softens only for her yielding form, the extreme contrast in their sizes making every encounter a test of how much she can take. The ritual chamber waits, the basin ready, but the warlord's growing obsession with filling her might destroy the very legacy he fights to protect.