The Heat of Deception

Seraphine had barely caught her breath before Kaelith returned.

She had expected him to keep his distance—to continue watching her from the shadows, letting his silence twist into a threat.

But instead, he came to her chambers.

And this time, he was not content with quiet warnings.

She turned just as the door shut behind him. "Still restless, my prince?" she asked, voice smooth, controlled.

Kaelith did not answer immediately.

Instead, he moved toward her, slow and deliberate, his gaze dark with something unreadable. Something dangerous.

Seraphine's breath caught.

Kaelith was rarely this close unless he wanted something—a reaction, a confession, an unraveling.

Tonight was no different.

His fingers found her wrist, his touch deceptively light as he lifted her hand between them.

"Your hands are cold," he murmured, turning it over, his thumb brushing against her pulse. "Strange, isn't it? A woman who has been in bed for hours should be warm."

Seraphine held his gaze, refusing to pull away. "Perhaps the night air chilled me."

Kaelith hummed, thoughtful. Unconvinced.

His grip shifted, traveling up the length of her arm in a slow, idle caress. Not demanding. Not yet.

But it was enough to make her heart race.

Enough to remind her that Kaelith knew how to break defenses with more than just words.

He tilted his head, eyes never leaving hers. "Tell me, my love… where were you tonight?"

Seraphine exhaled softly, steadying herself. "Here. Where else would I be?"

Kaelith's fingers reached her shoulder, slipping beneath the loose fabric of her gown.

She did not flinch.

She did not move.

She only watched as he traced the delicate curve of her collarbone—slow, lingering, deliberate.

"If you lie to me," he murmured, voice low, thick with warning, "I will know."

Seraphine felt her resolve tighten, a slow smile curving her lips. "And if I tell the truth?"

Kaelith leaned in, his lips a breath away from her ear.

"Then I will know that, too."

For a moment, neither of them moved.

The heat between them was sharp, electric—a game of power, of temptation, of carefully balanced control.

Then, as suddenly as he had touched her, Kaelith pulled away.

Seraphine exhaled, realizing only then how tightly she had been holding herself.

He smirked, his expression knowing.

He had gotten what he wanted.

Not words. Not a confession.

But a reaction.

And as he turned to leave, he did not need to say it aloud—this was far from over.