A Night Without Walls

The space between them vanished.

Kaelith's lips brushed against Seraphine's, slow and deliberate, as if savoring the moment—claiming it. His hand cupped her jaw, fingers tracing the delicate line of her throat, feeling the rapid pulse beneath his touch.

Seraphine did not resist. She met him with the same quiet intensity, her fingers sliding over the fabric of his tunic, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath.

This was not a battle. Not a game of power.

It was something far more dangerous.

Kaelith broke the kiss only to press his forehead against hers, his breath unsteady. "Tell me you want this," he murmured, his voice lower, rougher.

Seraphine's fingers curled into the fabric at his chest. "I do."

That was all he needed.

He pulled her closer, his hands mapping every inch of her, committing her to memory. The weight of the past, the burdens of the throne—none of it mattered in this moment.

Tonight, there was no deception. No hidden motives.

Only them.

To be continued…

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