Maxim Ivankov is the devil incarnate.
With the fierce blood of Mongolian conquerors running through his veins he is pitiless.
From the time I was a child, I knew he was my enemy, and I have always hated him with a shocking intensity. Now my father wants me to marry him.
I cannot say no to my father. No one says no to him, not if they wish to live.
I may be his daughter, but his honor is more important than my life.
So I will marry that heartless brute.
Yes, he is beautiful, with piercing blue eyes and raven black hair, but I will not bend to him. I will not share his bed, and I will not bear him children.
Our marriage will be more barren than the wild landscapes his ancestors rode across when they came to conquer our lands.
I have watched her from afar for many, many years. Those flame colored locks tumbling down her delicate shoulders, that creamy-white neck when it is stretched and exposed.
I have imagined how it will feel when she offers herself to me and I am inside her.
She despises me, but now she will bear my name and be mine.
I will make her call my name.
I will make her get on her pretty, little knees and beg me to take her.
I will be her last thought when she goes to sleep and the first when her eyes open.
I will fill her belly with my seed.