Under the Surface

The air outside the ballroom was cooler, the night stretching out before them, dark and endless. Xypheron didn't let go of her wrist as he led her down the hallway, his grip firm, unyielding.

Vexaria didn't speak at first. She didn't need to. There was an electricity between them that didn't need words to make its presence known. Every step they took felt like a countdown, a moment before something inevitable would happen.

When they reached a secluded balcony overlooking the gardens, Xypheron finally stopped. His chest rose and fell with each breath, his expression unreadable. Vexaria's heart beat faster, her pulse quickening. This wasn't just about power or control anymore. It was personal.

"You wanted to make me jealous, didn't you?" His voice was quieter now, almost a growl, as if he had been suppressing the words for too long.

She tilted her head slightly, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. "Did it work?"

For a moment, Xypheron said nothing. He merely watched her, his gaze intense, like he was seeing through her rather than looking at her.

Then, without warning, he stepped closer, the space between them shrinking. She could feel the heat radiating off him, the tension that seemed to pulse with every movement he made.

"I don't get jealous," he repeated, but this time, there was something in his eyes that told her it wasn't entirely true.

Vexaria stepped forward, deliberately closing the distance between them. She could feel the pulse of the moment—dangerous, thrilling.

"Then why did you look like you wanted to tear him apart?" she whispered, her voice soft, teasing.

His jaw clenched again, but he didn't move away. Instead, his eyes darkened. "I warned you about this game, Vexaria."

She didn't flinch. Instead, she ran a hand along his chest, slow and deliberate, feeling the hard muscle beneath his tunic. "What are you going to do, Prince?"

Xypheron's lips parted slightly, a breath catching in his throat. The air between them had thickened, and now it felt as if they were both teetering on the edge of something they couldn't control.

"I should warn you again," he muttered, his voice lower, dangerous. "You're playing with fire."

Vexaria's smirk grew. "You're the one who started it."

Without another word, Xypheron's hand shot out, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her against him. The world around them seemed to fade, and all she could feel was him—his breath on her neck, his hands firm on her body, the undeniable pull between them.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. They didn't need to. The game they were playing had shifted, had become something far more dangerous, far more real.

"You've gone too far now," he murmured, his lips brushing against her ear.

Vexaria leaned into him, her body pressing against his. "Then