Chapter Eight: Play with Fire

Estella left Valeria's chambers with a wicked smile curling her lips and the taste of victory fresh in her mouth. That snake had tried to rattle her—and failed. Miserably.

But the thrill of knocking Valeria down a peg didn't last long. Because the moment she stepped into the corridor, Lucien was there—leaning casually against a marble column, arms crossed, watching her like a hunter tracking his prey.

"Enjoying yourself?" His voice was low, smooth—but there was an edge to it.

Estella smirked, brushing a curl behind her ear as she strolled toward him. "Oh, absolutely," she drawled. "Valeria's ego is almost as fragile as your temper."

Lucien's lips twitched, but his silver eyes burned with something far more dangerous. "Careful, little rebel," he murmured, pushing off the wall. "You're making a lot of enemies."

"Good," she said sweetly. "Let them choke on it."

In a blink, he was in front of her—too close, too warm, and too damn smug. "You're playing a dangerous game," he warned, his hand curling around her waist. "And you seem awfully eager to find out what happens when you lose."

Estella tilted her head, letting her gaze drift down to where his shirt hung open just enough to tease the hard lines of his chest. "I'm not the one losing," she said softly. "But it's adorable that you think I am."

His grip tightened—possessive, unyielding. "You're testing me."

"And you love it."

Lucien's laughter was low, sinful, and far too pleased. "You've got a filthy little mouth," he murmured, dragging her flush against him. "I should find a better use for it."

Estella leaned in, her lips brushing the shell of his ear. "Be my guest," she whispered. "Or are you all talk, Your Majesty?"

His patience snapped.

Before she could blink, Lucien had her pinned against the cold marble wall, his thigh pressing between her legs—hard enough to make her breath hitch.

"You're begging for it," he growled, his mouth crashing against hers in a kiss that was all heat and fury.

Estella kissed him back just as fiercely—teeth and tongue, wild and unapologetic. She bit his lower lip hard enough to make him curse against her mouth, and gods, the sound sent a fresh wave of heat pooling low in her belly.

"Still think you're in control?" she taunted breathlessly as he dragged his mouth down the line of her throat, his teeth scraping against her pulse.

Lucien laughed softly, darkly. "Sweetheart," he murmured, his hand sliding beneath her robe to palm her bare ass, "I know I am."

With one rough tug, he yanked the silk open—exposing her to the cool air. His fingers traced down the curve of her thigh, teasing, taunting, and driving her insane.

"You're already soaked," he said against her skin, his tone pure arrogance. "So much for your sharp tongue."

Estella gasped as his fingers slid between her thighs—slow and deliberate. "I'm just bored," she said, though her voice trembled. "Is this your idea of punishment? I expected better."

Lucien's hand tightened, his thumb circling her clit with ruthless precision. "You're going to regret that mouth," he promised.

"Make me," she dared, tilting her chin defiantly.

And gods—he did.

Without warning, Lucien spun her around, pressing her chest against the cold marble. He didn't bother with words—just shoved her legs apart and dragged the tip of his cock along her slick folds, teasing her mercilessly.

"You want me to make you scream, little rebel?" he growled, his breath hot against her ear. "I'll make sure the whole palace hears you."

Before she could throw another insult, he thrust into her—deep and unforgiving.

A broken moan tore from her throat, her nails scraping against the stone as he filled her completely. The ache from their last encounter flared, but it only made the heat burn hotter.

"That's it," he murmured, his hands locking onto her hips as he pulled back and drove into her again—harder this time. "Take it like the mouthy little brat you are."

Estella bit her lip to keep from crying out, but gods, the way he fucked her—rough and deep, like he was trying to ruin her—was almost too much.

"Still bored?" he taunted, his voice rough with pleasure as he pounded into her.

"Not bad," she panted, arching her back to take him deeper. "I mean, I've had better… oh—fuck—"

Lucien's laughter was dark and dangerous. "You're shaking," he said, dragging his teeth along her shoulder. "Poor thing—can't handle a little roughness?"

"You wish," she hissed, but the tremble in her thighs betrayed her.

He thrust harder, his fingers sliding back to her clit, working her with ruthless precision. "Come for me, Estella," he ordered, his voice a low growl. "Show me who you belong to."

Her body gave up the fight.

Pleasure slammed through her in hot, blinding waves, her entire body shuddering beneath him. She cried out his name—loud enough to echo through the corridor—and gods, she didn't care.

Lucien cursed under his breath, his rhythm growing rough and erratic as he chased his own release. With one final thrust, he spilled deep inside her, his hands bruising her hips as he held her against him.

For a long, breathless moment, neither of them moved.

Finally, Lucien pulled back, his fingers brushing over the fresh marks he'd left on her skin. "Still not impressed?" he asked, his tone mocking.

Estella, still catching her breath, smirked over her shoulder. "I mean, you tried," she said sweetly. "A for effort, Your Majesty."

His laughter was low and dangerous. "You're going to regret every word you just said."

And from the heat in his eyes—she knew he meant it.

---

Meanwhile…

Valeria watched from a hidden alcove, her nails digging into her palms.

The little bitch.

Lucien hadn't touched her in weeks—yet here he was, taking that insolent girl against the palace walls like he couldn't get enough.

Fine.

If the emperor wanted to play favorites, she would play her own game.

And when she was finished—Estella wouldn't just lose her place.

She'd lose everything.