A Game of Temptation

Alexander gazed at the woman before him, his sharp blue eyes drinking in the sight of her. Vivian stood tall and poised, wrapped in nothing but a damp towel clinging to her curves. Droplets of water slid down the exposed skin of her shoulders, disappearing beneath the soft fabric. Her flamboyant, wavy red hair hung wet and heavy, framing her striking features. Even now, after her bath, she looked just as regal and untouchable as ever, like a goddess draped in nothing but mist.

But beneath that composed exterior, he could hear it, her heartbeat, pounding louder with every second that passed. It was a subtle betrayal, a secret she could not conceal from him. To anyone else, she looked fearless, indifferent. But Alexander knew better. The noble lady of Leuhtaz, the woman who held the admiration of the entire empire, was nervous. She was afraid.

And that realization awakened something dark inside him.

A slow, deliberate smirk curved his lips.

The knowledge that she was trying so hard to maintain her composure only made him want to push her further, to unravel her until there was nothing left but raw, honest desire. So, he took his time, stepping forward at a maddeningly slow pace. Each step was calculated, each movement precise, allowing the air between them to thicken with unspoken tension.

Her heartbeat quickened. He could almost feel the tremor in the air around her, the anticipation crackling like an unspoken plea. And yet, she did not move. She did not back away. Instead, she held his gaze, her ruby-red eyes burning with something unreadable.

He stopped when he was close enough to feel the warmth radiating from her damp skin. Close enough that, if she leaned forward just a little, their bodies would touch. He bent slightly, lowering himself so their eyes were level, his face mere inches from hers. His voice was low, smooth, yet edged with amusement as he asked,

"Are you sure about this, my lady?"

Vivian inhaled sharply, steadying herself before meeting his gaze with unwavering determination.

"I've never been more certain of anything in my life," she answered, her voice steady despite the nervous fluttering of her heart.

And yet, despite the confidence in her words, an unease lingered deep within her. It was a whisper at the back of her mind, warning her, telling her that something was not right. But she ignored it, brushing it off as remnants of the original host's emotions. This was her body now. This was her choice.

She had already committed herself to this path.

To hesitate now would be foolish.

Vivian knew what was at stake. She was gambling with fire, placing her entire dignity on this one moment. If Alexander rejected her now, if he cast her aside, the shame would be unbearable. It would be a disgrace she would never recover from.

But that was exactly why she had to be fearless.

Her pride demanded it.

Somewhere at the back of her mind, this was revenge against the original host husband who is now her ex-husband and the male lead of the original novel.

Alexander studied her for a moment, searching for something in her expression. Then, slowly, his smirk deepened. His hand lifted, brushing her damp hair away from her face. His fingers grazed the soft shell of her ear before trailing downward, his touch light yet electrifying.

He reached the tips of her hair and held the strand between his fingers, bringing it to his lips. With deliberate slowness, he pressed a gentle kiss against it, his eyes never leaving hers.

It was intoxicating.

The simple act of touching her, of having her here, standing before him like this, was more than he had ever dared to hope for. There had been a time when even fantasizing about her felt like a sin. Back then, she had seemed so distant, so far above him, that merely thinking of her in such a way had filled him with guilt.

But now…

Now, she was standing before him, willingly offering herself to him.

Telling him that he could do whatever he pleased.

The thought nearly shattered his restraint.

He pulled her closer, his arms snaking around her waist as he buried his face against the curve of her neck. He inhaled deeply, greedily, filling his lungs with the scent of roses clinging to her damp skin. His breath was hot against her flesh, sending a shiver down her spine.

And then, he gave in to temptation.

His lips found the delicate skin of her neck, pressing against it softly at first, then firmer, lingering, savoring. A quiet gasp escaped her, her body tensing under his touch. Encouraged, he parted his lips, sucking gently, tasting her.

A soft, breathy moan slipped past her lips. It was faint, almost imperceptible, but he caught it. And that sound, proof that he had an effect on her, ignited something primal within him.

His grip on her tightened.

When he pulled back to look at her, his eyes darkened with hunger.

Her cheeks were flushed, her lips slightly parted, her ruby-red eyes filled with something dangerously close to surrender. A faint mark was already forming on her pale skin, evidence of his claim on her.

But it wasn't enough.

His gaze flickered to her lips, plump, enticing, glistening from where she had bitten them. He wanted them. Needed them.

Without another thought, he captured her lips in a searing kiss.

There was no hesitation, no gentleness, only raw, unchecked desire. His hands gripped her hips, pulling her against him as he deepened the kiss, devouring her like a starving man. She melted into him, her hands tangling in his hair, her body molding against his.

He lifted her effortlessly, and she instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms tightening around his neck. He carried her with ease, moving to the sofa, never once breaking the kiss.

As he laid her down, his hands moved to the towel wrapped around her body. His fingers brushed against the knot, ready to undo it,

But then—

A sharp pulse of magic crackled through the air.

Before he could react, an unseen force struck him, hurling him away from her.

Alexander crashed onto the floor, his body sliding back several feet from where she lay.

He barely had time to process what had happened before his eyes flicked toward the source of the magic.

And standing there, hand raised from casting the spell, was a figure cloaked in power, one who clearly had no intention of letting this moment continue.