Raising the Stakes

Seraphine exhaled slowly, willing the heat in her veins to settle.

Kaelith thought he had won.

Thought that by letting her go, he had claimed control.

He was wrong.

If he wanted a battle, she would give him a war.

That night, Seraphine made her move.

She waited until the palace had settled into quiet, until the corridors were empty save for the occasional guard. Then, with calculated ease, she slipped into Kaelith's chambers.

He was already in bed, his shirt discarded, the sheets pooling around his waist. The soft glow of the fireplace cast long shadows over his bare chest, highlighting the strength beneath his relaxed posture.

But his eyes weren't closed.

He had been waiting.

A slow smirk curved his lips as she approached. "Couldn't stay away, wife?"

Seraphine didn't answer. Instead, she climbed onto the bed, straddling him without hesitation.

Kaelith raised a brow, amusement flickering in his gaze, but he didn't stop her. "Bold tonight, aren't we?"

Seraphine leaned down, her lips brushing against the shell of his ear. "You don't get to walk away and think you've won, husband."

Kaelith's hands found her hips, his grip firm, teasing. "And what exactly are you doing about it?"

Seraphine smiled against his skin. Then—slowly, deliberately—she bit down, just enough to leave a mark.

Kaelith inhaled sharply, his grip tightening, but Seraphine only moved lower, her lips trailing over his collarbone, down the hard lines of his chest.

"You're not the only one who can remind someone," she murmured.

Kaelith let out a low chuckle, though his breathing had deepened. "Careful, Seraphine." His voice was huskier now, edged with something darker. "You're playing with fire."

Seraphine lifted her gaze, meeting his eyes with a smirk of her own. "Then let it burn."

To be continued…

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