Chapter Twenty-Three: Caught Between Kings

The night air was thick with heat when Lucien returned to his chambers. He found Estella perched on the windowsill, her long legs crossed, the moonlight painting her skin in silver and shadow.

"You're late," she said lazily, though her pulse quickened at the sight of him—broad-shouldered and tense, his tunic half-unbuttoned.

Lucien shut the door behind him, the lock clicking into place. "You're awfully bold for someone still sore from last night," he murmured, stalking toward her.

Estella tilted her head, giving him a slow, wicked smile. "Maybe I'm hoping for a repeat performance."

His silver eyes darkened. "Careful," he warned, his voice rough with promise. "I might just ruin you."

Before she could fire back, he was on her—grabbing her by the waist and pulling her into his arms. His mouth crashed against hers, hot and demanding, as he carried her toward the bed.

"You think you're in charge," he growled against her lips, tossing her onto the silk sheets. "But you forget—I always win."

Estella laughed softly, stretching beneath him like a lazy cat. "I'm still standing, aren't I?"

"Not for long."

He yanked the hem of her gown up, exposing her bare thighs, and spread her legs wide. Without another word, he lowered himself between them, his tongue teasing her slit—slow and deliberate.

"Fuck—" Estella gasped, her fingers tangling in his hair as he licked a hot, wet line up her center.

Lucien chuckled darkly, his breath hot against her skin. "Already falling apart?" he mocked, sliding two fingers inside her with ruthless precision.

"Shut up," she panted, arching into his touch.

"You love my mouth," he taunted, flicking his tongue over her clit while his fingers worked her harder. "Admit it."

Estella bit back a moan, refusing to give him the satisfaction. "I've had better."

Lucien growled, dragging her hips closer as he devoured her with rough, relentless strokes. "Liar," he rasped against her, and gods—the sound alone nearly sent her over the edge.

Her body trembled beneath him, pleasure coiling tight, ready to snap. "Lucien—"

"You're mine," he said, lifting his head just enough to meet her gaze. "Say it."

She shook her head, defiance burning through the haze of pleasure. "Make me."

Lucien's smile turned feral. "Gladly."

He flipped her onto her stomach, his hands spreading her thighs as he thrust into her without warning. The stretch was deep, overwhelming, and she choked out a broken moan.

"Still mouthy now?" he growled, dragging his teeth along her shoulder.

Estella gripped the sheets, her body shuddering beneath his punishing rhythm. "Is that all you've got?" she hissed.

Lucien laughed softly—dark and full of promise. "You want more?" His fingers slid down to circle her clit, rough and relentless. "Come for me, Estella. Let me hear you scream."

And gods—she did.

Her orgasm hit her like wildfire, tearing through every inch of her body as she cried out his name. Lucien followed moments later, burying himself to the hilt as he groaned against her neck.

For a long moment, the only sound in the room was their ragged breathing.

Lucien brushed his lips against her ear, his voice still rough. "Still think you're in charge?"

Estella smiled against the pillow. "Always."

The Next Day…

The palace courtyard buzzed with life as nobles gathered for the summer festival. Music drifted through the air, accompanied by the scent of jasmine and roasted spices.

But Estella barely noticed.

Because across the courtyard, a man leaned against the marble fountain—watching her.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, and far too handsome for anyone's good. His dark hair fell in loose waves, framing a face that was all sharp angles and dangerous charm.

And when he smiled—it was the kind of smile that promised trouble.

"You're staring," Lucien murmured beside her, his tone colder than usual.

Estella tilted her head, smirking. "Jealous?"

His jaw tightened. "Who is he?"

Before she could answer, the stranger pushed off the fountain and strolled toward them with a confidence that made the air around him crackle.

"Your Majesty," he said smoothly, bowing low. "It's been a while."

Lucien's expression didn't soften. "What are you doing here, Dorian?"

Dorian.

So, this was the infamous Prince Dorian—the emperor's former rival and the only man who had ever come close to matching Lucien in battle.

And from the way Lucien's shoulders tensed, their rivalry was far from over.

"I came to negotiate a new trade agreement," Dorian said, but his eyes never left Estella. "I didn't realize you had such…entertaining company."

Estella smiled sweetly, extending her hand. "Estella," she introduced herself. "The emperor's newest headache."

Dorian laughed—a warm, rich sound. "A pleasure," he murmured, brushing his lips against her knuckles. "I can see why you're causing so much trouble."

Lucien's hand curled around her waist—possessive, unyielding. "Careful," he warned, his voice like ice.

Dorian met his gaze without flinching. "Relax, Lucien," he said, his tone full of lazy amusement. "I'm just being polite."

But when his eyes flicked back to Estella, there was nothing polite about the heat burning there.

And gods help her—she liked it.

Later That Night…

"You're playing with fire," Lucien growled, backing her against the cold stone wall of his chambers. "Flirting with Dorian in front of me?"

Estella smirked, sliding her hands up his chest. "Afraid of a little competition, Your Majesty?"

His grip on her hips tightened, hard enough to bruise. "He's not competition," he snarled. "You belong to me."

"Prove it," she challenged, dragging her teeth along his jaw.

Lucien's restraint snapped.

And when he took her against the wall—rough, fierce, and absolutely merciless—there was no doubt in her mind that he intended to remind her exactly who she belonged to.

But even as she cried his name, part of her wondered…

How far could she push him before he truly lost control?

And what would happen when Dorian decided he wasn't done playing?