CROWN OF FORBIDDEN HEARTS
Chapter 31: LOVE BOUND

Chapter 31: 31: LOVE BOUND

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

He aggressively spread her legs open, she barely had time to react before his lips grazed the sensitive skin of her inner thigh...

Dearest reader, let us not get ahead of ourselves.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The morning of her wedding dawned in eerie silence. The once-vibrant halls of Calithea were lifeless, veiled in the kind of quiet that followed ruin. The air was thick, suffocating and heavy with the weight of the kingdom’s grief.

Zara sat rigid on the edge of the unfamiliar bed, her hands clenched into fists. Her nails dug into her palms, but she barely noticed the sting. Her mind swirled with fire and fury, her body thrumming with unspent rage.

She had been caged, humiliated, stripped of everything, her kingdom, her freedom, and worst of all, him. Erythian. The man who had bled for her. The man who had loved her.

The heavy doors burst open without warning. Soldiers stormed in, their armor clanking as they advanced toward her. Before she could react, rough hands seized her arms, yanking her to her feet. She thrashed, teeth bared like a cornered animal, but their grip was unyielding.

"Let me go!" she snarled with her voice raw.

They didn’t. They dragged her through the corridors of Calithea, past shattered columns and blood-stained stone. The once-proud kingdom was in ruin, and as they pulled her forward, her gaze landed on something that made the world lurch.

Mirenna.

Her body lay crumpled in the hallway, her golden hair soaked in blood.

Zara’s breath caught violently in her throat. A scream clawed its way up, but it never made it past her lips. Her vision blurred, her knees buckled, but the soldiers didn’t stop. They forced her forward, tearing her away before she could even touch Mirenna’s still-cold hand.

Tears burned down her cheeks, but she wasn’t sure if it was grief or rage.

She barely noticed when they shoved her into her chambers. The doors slammed shut behind her, locking her inside.

Calithea had never felt so dead.

The silence of her chambers was suffocating. The air carried the scent of roses it almost felt like the universe was mocking her.

The same scent that had once reminded her of home, of safety was now nothing more than a cruel echo of what she had lost.

Zara stood frozen, her gaze empty, her body cold. She could still see Mirenna’s lifeless form behind her closed eyelids, could still feel the phantom warmth of her friend’s hand, now forever still. The weight of it all crushed her, pressing her further into the depths of helplessness.

Then came the soft and measured knock.

The door opened before she could answer.

Alaric entered, dressed in black and gold, his armor polished with his movements smooth and deliberate. He was composed, powerful and pleased, he had a smirk on his face as he strode inside as if he belonged there, as if this moment had been destined. And in his hand, he carried something that made Zara’s stomach twist.

A bouquet.

White lilies and red roses, bound together with a black silk ribbon.

"For my bride," he murmured, placing them on the table beside her. His voice was smooth, laced with a satisfaction that made her blood burn.

Zara didn’t move. She didn’t trust herself to.

He studied her, tilting his head. "You’re quiet."

She exhaled, slow and deliberate, trying to cage the storm inside her. But when her eyes met his, so unbearably smug, so sure of himself, her fury shattered through the restraints.

She laughed hysterically, it was sharp and cold

Alaric’s brow arched.

"Oh, forgive me," Zara drawled, stepping forward. "I was just thinking... how funny it is that you bring me flowers, as if that erases the blood on your hands."

His amusement flickered, but he held his ground. "I would have chosen something else, but lilies seemed fitting. You’re in mourning, after all."

Her breath hitched. He knew. He knew Mirenna was dead, alongside Erythian but he didn’t care, why would he? when he orchestrated all this.

The laughter died on her lips, replaced by something sharper, more venomous. "You’re disgusting."

Alaric’s jaw tensed, but his eyes gleamed with something darker. "Careful, Lysandra."

She took another step closer, her voice a whisper of poison. "Or what? Will you kill me too? Or have you grown too fond of playing with your new puppet?"

His gaze darkened. He moved fast, too fast. Before she could react, his hand shot out, gripping her jaw, forcing her to look at him.

"You speak as if I have taken your choices from you," he murmured, his grip firm, unrelenting. "But you forget, ’queen’ that You gave them away the moment you surrendered."

"Oh so you acknowledge that I surrendered but you still killed all those people afterwards because?" She asked in anger.

"Because I wanted to..." he responded with a smirk.

Zara’s breath came fast, but she refused to look away. "I will never belong to you."

Alaric’s lips curved not in amusement, but something far more dangerous.

"We’ll see about that"

And then, he kissed her.

A Hard and Unforgiving kiss.

Zara fought, shoving at his chest, clawing at his arms, but he didn’t stop. His grip tightened, his body pressing into hers, swallowing her protests, her rage.

Every nerve in her body screamed in defiance, but she couldn’t break free.

Finally, she did the only thing she could.

She spat in his face.

The world seemed to freeze.

Alaric stilled. Slowly, agonizingly, he released her.

He wiped his face with the back of his hand, his expression unreadable.

Then, without warning, he struck.

The slap sent her crashing to the ground, pain exploding across her cheek. The taste of blood bloomed on her tongue, but she barely noticed it. She lay there, stunned, breathless.

Alaric crouched beside her, gripping her chin between his fingers, forcing her to meet his gaze.

"Disrespect me again," he whispered, "and you will regret it."

Then, without another word, he rose.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The next thing she heard was the unmistakable clank of iron.

Her wrists were yanked forward, the cold bite of metal encircling them.

Chains.

Her stomach dropped.

Alaric watched her, his gaze hooded. "You belong to me now, Lysandra. And I will make sure you never forget it."

The cold metal dug into her wrists as Zara struggled against the chains. Her breath came in sharp, furious gasps, but Alaric only watched her, unbothered, as if she were nothing more than a caged animal clawing at its bars.

She yanked harder. The iron didn’t budge.

"Fight all you want," Alaric murmured, amusement laced in his voice. "It won’t change anything."

Zara lifted her head, her glare burning. "You are a fool if you think I will ever accept this."

Alaric crouched beside the bed, his fingers grazing the chain that tethered her to the headboard. "I don’t need your acceptance." His gaze flicked up, gleaming with quiet satisfaction. "Only your submission."

Before she could spit another curse at him, the door creaked open.

Scarlet entered.

The red-haired mage moved with practiced ease, her silver-threaded gown pooling around her feet as she approached the bed.

In her hands, she carried a small, obsidian vial, the dark liquid inside swirling like captured shadows.

Zara’s stomach twisted.

Scarlet stopped at the edge of the bed and lifted the vial, rolling it between her fingers. "You understand the risks of this spell?" she asked, her tone even.

Alaric’s gaze never left Zara. "I do."

"And you still wish to proceed?"

"Yes."

Scarlet nodded once. She turned to Zara, studying her with an unreadable expression. "Pardon me your majesty"

Zara felt rage and she flinched at the title. It felt wrong, it felt hollow. She was no queen; She was now a prisoner and conquest.

Scarlet continued, her voice smooth. "A love bind is permanent. It does not force the heart to love, but rather... it makes the body crave the one who casts it."

Zara’s chest tightened.

Scarlet’s gaze darkened. "With this spell, you will feel drawn to Alaric. You will ache for him, even when your mind fights it. You will want him, even when every part of you loathes him. And the more you resist... the stronger the pain will become, his pain will become your pain and his agony yours, if you yearn for another, there will be consequences."

Zara’s blood ran cold.

Alaric smirked. "Proceed."

Scarlet stepped closer, uncorking the vial. The scent of roses and something far more sinister filled the air. She dipped her fingers into the dark liquid, then pressed them against Zara’s chest, just above her heart.

A whisper of magic curled through the air.

Zara’s body jerked violently as heat licked through her veins, sharp and searing. Her breath caught as an unbearable sensation twisted inside her, something foreign, something wrong.

It wasn’t love. It wasn’t desire. It was NEED.

A need that did not belong to her.

Zara gasped, trembling. "No..."

Scarlet withdrew her hand, her expression unreadable. "It is done."

Zara’s skin burned where the spell had settled. She felt him, his presence like a brand seared into her bones. It was inside her now, wrapped around her like invisible chains.

Her horror must have shown on her face because Alaric chuckled. "You feel it, don’t you?"

She turned away, her breaths shallow. No. No. No. she thought.

"Go ahead my lord" scarlet hints to Alaric to leave a mark on the queen to complete the spell process.

"Say it," he murmured, stepping closer to the bed where Zara was chained "Tell me what you feel."

Zara clenched her jaw. She would not give him that satisfaction.

But then, he reached for her.

His fingers brushed her bare arm, and heat flared through her body, sharp and unbearable. She gasped, her body betraying her, leaning and craving.

Alaric hummed in satisfaction. "Perfect."

Zara’s stomach twisted with revulsion, but the spell did not care.

He aggressively spread her legs apart and then he moved lower, she barely had time to react before his lips grazed the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. His teeth pressed into her flesh—a bite.

Pain flared.

And then—a mark.

A glowing red symbol burned into her skin, sealing the spell.

Zara’s vision blurred as the truth of it crashed down on her.

She was his.

The spell had bound her. The mark had sealed it.

And worst of all, she could already feel it taking root.

Her willpower. Her rage. Her very sense of self.

Slipping.

Fading.

Lost.

Alaric’s voice was the last thing she heard, low and victorious.

"Finally, you’re mine, Lysandra."