Playing With Fire is Fun!

The morning sun spilled through the heavy curtains, casting golden light across the room.

The heat of the sun's rays kissed Allora's bare skin, warming her like an embrace.

But it wasn't just the sunlight she felt.

Something else pressed against her.

Something solid.

Warm.

The featherlight press of lips against her arm, then her shoulder.

A slow, sensual heat trailing to the curve of her neck.

Soft kisses.

Then—

A hand.

A large, strong hand cupping her breast, tender and teasing.

She moaned softly, half-conscious, instinctively moving into his touch.

Her body recognized him before her mind did.

She turned slightly, her lashes fluttering open.

And then—

Her entire body stiffened.

Malec was there, lying beside her, completely nude.

His tan eyes gleamed with amusement, his lips curled in a lazy, satisfied smirk.

"Morning, my dove," he murmured.

And that was the exact moment Allora remembered everything.

The lock.

The chains of control.

The forced captivity in his chambers.

Her entire body went rigid.

Then—

She exploded.

"You son of a—!"

She threw herself out of the bed, grabbing the nearest object—a heavy wooden tray—and hurled it at Malec's head.

Malec, still half-covered in furs and completely naked, barely dodged it in time.

The tray slammed against the wall, sending goblets and dishes crashing to the floor.

"What the fuck, woman?!" he barked, but his laughter betrayed his amusement.

Wrong move.

Because that only made her angrier.

"YOU THINK THIS IS FUNNY?!" she roared, grabbing another object—this time a silver goblet.

"Allora—"

She threw it.

Malec dodged again, now openly grinning.

"Damn, you have good aim."

A chair leg was the next thing thrown.

"Alright, dove, calm yourself—"

"CALM MYSELF?! YOU LOCKED ME IN YOUR ROOM LIKE SOME CAGED ANIMAL!"

Another object came flying.

Malec barely caught it midair.

"You're being dramatic."

That sent her over the edge.

With fury in her steps, she stormed toward the door, grabbing the handle and—

Locked.

Her breath came out in short, ragged bursts.

He did it again.

He locked her in. Again.

Her hands curled into fists, her body shaking with rage.

She whirled around, her dark eyes blazing, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

"Open. The. Door."

Malec tilted his head, his smirk widening.

"Or what?"

She charged at him.

But Malec was faster.

With effortless precision, he sidestepped, grabbed her wrist, and twisted her around, pinning her against the door.

"Tsk," he murmured, his voice low and amused, "so reckless."

Allora thrashed against him.

"Let me GO!"

Malec, still completely naked, simply pressed his body against hers, trapping her without force—only with his presence.

"Stop moving," he ordered, voice dropping into something softer.

His breath was warm against her ear.

"I should have expected this," he muttered, almost to himself.

Allora growled, her body rigid with fury.

"Expected what?" she spat.

Malec smiled against her neck.

"That my wild little dove would wake up, remember what happened, and start throwing things at me."

His chest shook with suppressed laughter.

That was the final straw.

"I hate you."

He sighed dramatically.

"A shame. I quite like you."

She snarled, trying to knee him, but he dodged at the last second.

"Now, now," he chided, mockingly.

"I swear to every god in this cursed world, I will KILL YOU," she snapped.

"Mm. You won't."

"Try me."

Malec chuckled, finally releasing her.

"Get dressed," he said, turning away as if this whole event was a mild inconvenience.

"Why? So you can parade me around your castle like a prize?" she hissed, still breathing heavily.

Malec tilted his head slightly, watching her reaction carefully.

Then, finally, he spoke.

"I'm taking you to the Capitol."

Everything stopped.

Her breath hitched.

Her anger froze in place.

She stared at him, stunned.

"You're lying," she accused, voice sharp with disbelief.

Malec smiled.

"I don't lie, Allora."

Her heart pounded.

The Capitol.

It was too good to be true.

She could get closer to the portal.

Closer to her people.

Closer to freedom.

"You're serious?" she whispered, narrowing her eyes.

"Deadly."

For the first time, he wasn't teasing her.

For the first time, he looked serious. Unshakable.

And for some reason…

That made her nervous.

Malec turned away, retrieving his clothing from a nearby chair.

"But," he added, pulling on his shirt, "there are rules."

Of course.

There was always a catch.

Her lips curled in distaste.

"Let me guess," she mocked. "I'll be leashed and paraded around like some pet?"

Malec shot her a pointed look.

"You will stay by my side," he clarified, "every moment. Every second. No running, no tricks, no games."

Her fists clenched.

"And if I don't?"

His tan eyes darkened.

"Then we stay here. And I'll keep you locked in this room."

Her stomach turned.

Because she knew he meant it.

Damn him.

She had no choice.

Her hands shook with frustration.

She could barely stand the thought of being close to him longer than necessary.

But she had to get to the Capitol.

So she swallowed her pride, forced herself to calm, and slowly nodded.

"Fine."

Malec smirked.

"Good girl."

Her rage returned instantly.

"Fuck you, Malec."

His smirk deepened.

"You already did, little dove."

She lunged for him again, but he was already laughing, stepping back.

"Get dressed," he ordered, grabbing his belt.

"We leave soon."

And with that, he walked toward the door, finally unlocking it.

Allora stood there, breathing hard, watching as he disappeared down the hall.

She should have felt victorious.

She was going back to the Capitol.

Back to her chance at freedom.

But instead—

Instead, she felt like she had just walked into a trap.

And Malec?

Malec knew it.

____________________________________________________________________________

Allora dressed in record time, throwing on the warm velvet-lined leggings and tunic Malec had left for her.

She didn't care if the outfit was comfortable.

She didn't care if the boots fit her perfectly.

She didn't care if the soft fabrics felt too luxurious for a prisoner.

She just wanted out of that room and away from Malec.

For the first time in weeks, she was leaving this gilded cage.

She practically ran down the castle steps, her feet moving too fast for her brain to keep up.

And then—

Her boot caught the edge of a stone step.

Her arms flailed.

She lurched forward—

And her face smacked directly into Malec's ass.

A beat of silence.

Then—

Luko's laughter exploded through the courtyard.

"Oh, I think I just died," he wheezed, doubling over.

Allora's face burned as she shoved herself upright, mortified.

Malec, completely unbothered, simply turned his smug, arrogant head over his shoulder and smirked.

"If you wanted access to my ass, dove, all you had to do was ask."

Luko practically collapsed.

Allora's mortification turned to fury.

"GO. TO. HELL."

Malec chuckled.

"If hell is where you are, I'll gladly follow."

Luko gasped for air, clutching his stomach from laughing too hard.

"Gods, this is the best day of my life."

Still fuming, Allora turned to Luko and hissed, "Stop laughing and walk with me before I kill you."

Luko wiped a tear of laughter from his eye, still grinning as he followed her to the waiting horses.

His amusement faded slightly as he watched Malec's gaze linger on her.

The way his eyes softened.

The way his smirk never left.

Luko sighed.

"You know… you're pressing him far too much."

Allora arched a brow.

"And?"

"And you need to be careful."

Luko's tone was serious now.

"He's never been like this before, Allora. He's always been violent, yes, but this is different. He's controlled around you, patient… but that control is fragile. If you push him too far, he could snap."

Allora scoffed.

"He's already a lunatic. What's the difference?"

Luko sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"You think he's playing games with you, but he's not. He's decided you're his. And Malec doesn't take losing well. Be careful."

She rolled her eyes but, deep down, she took his words seriously.

"Well, aren't you a good little friend?" Allora teased, grinning.

Luko smirked.

"You'll miss me when I'm gone."

"No, I won't."

"Liar."

She sighed dramatically before leaning in and kissing his cheek.

"Fine. I'll miss you. A little. But you're still an idiot."

Luko's golden eyes widened, but then he laughed.

"You just kissed me to piss him off, didn't you?"

"Affirmative."

Luko laughed harder.

"You're gonna die, dove."

And sure enough—

Before Allora could pull away, a shadow loomed over them.

Malec was right there.

Watching.

His tan eyes burned, his smirk was gone, and his hands flexed at his sides.

"Get. On. The. Horse."

His voice was low, dangerous, barely restrained.

Allora only grinned, batting her lashes innocently.

"Something wrong, Malec?"

"You'll find out later," he muttered darkly, grabbing her waist.

"Hey—!"

With zero effort, Malec lifted her up, tossing her onto his horse like a sack of grain.

She let out a furious squawk, but Malec ignored her.

Instead, he mounted the horse right behind her, his arms caging her in.

"Comfortable, dove?"

She elbowed him in the stomach.

"Fuck. You."

"Later," he whispered in her ear.

Her entire body tensed.

Luko shook his head, laughing again.

"Gods, I'm gonna miss this."

Malec shot him a warning glare, then yanked the reins.

"Let's go."

And with that—

They left for the Capitol.

The journey to the Capitol stretched across miles of snow-dusted roads and dense forests.

The air was crisp, the scent of pine thick around them.

The party was small—just Malec, Allora, a handful of guards, and a single carriage carrying supplies.

Allora sat firmly in front of Malec, his arms bracketing her in place as their horse trotted down the path.

She hated it.

She hated how close he was.

How she could feel his breath against her skin every time he leaned in.

She hated how he smelled, all crisp frost and something dangerously masculine.

But most of all—

She hated how she felt a thrill every time she pushed his buttons.

The first time she did it, it was innocent.

She shifted in the saddle, adjusting her position.

Malec's grip on the reins tightened, his breathing deepened.

The second time, she leaned back into him just slightly, pressing into his chest.

His jaw clenched.

The third time—

She turned her head slightly, her lips just a breath away from his ear.

"You sure you're comfortable back there?" she asked sweetly.

Malec didn't respond.

But she could feel his body tense.

Good.

She smirked.

"What's wrong?" she pressed, her voice dripping with mock innocence.

"You're testing me," Malec finally muttered.

His voice was low, almost too soft.

A warning.

She grinned.

"And?"

Malec didn't answer.

But his hands flexed on the reins.

Oh, he was definitely affected.

But so far, he was controlling himself.

And that meant she wasn't done.

Not yet.

As they entered a small town, the group slowed.

They were stopping for supplies.

Malec dismounted first, then turned to Allora, offering his hand.

She ignored it, swinging off the horse herself.

"I don't need your help."

His tan eyes darkened slightly, but he said nothing.

They walked through the marketplace, a small but lively stretch of wooden stalls and warm fire pits.

Allora enjoyed the small break from him.

She wandered just slightly from Malec's reach, stretching her legs.

That's when she noticed it.

The eyes.

The looks.

Awyan men—merchants, travelers, young noblemen—were all staring at her.

She was used to it.

She had grown accustomed to being gawked at.

But this time—

This time, she could feel the heat of Malec's gaze burning into her back.

She didn't even have to look.

She knew.

He noticed.

And he did not like it.

It happened fast.

A young Awyan noble approached, his silver hair gleaming in the torchlight.

"You're quite the exotic beauty," he murmured, eyes roving over her.

Before Allora could retort, she was yanked backward.

Malec's hand clamped around her waist, pulling her flush against his chest.

His grip was strong. Unyielding.

Possessive.

His tan eyes blazed as he looked down at the noble.

"She's not for sale," Malec said coldly.

The noble chuckled.

"Oh, I wasn't looking to buy, Commander. Just admire."

Malec's hand tightened.

"Admire from a distance."

The noble raised his hands in mock surrender, grinning.

"Easy, Silver Fox. No harm meant."

Allora felt Malec's chest rise and fall heavily behind her.

His body was rigid. Tense.

"Let's go," he muttered to her, turning her away.

But Allora hesitated.

She glanced back at the noble—and winked.

A single, deliberate taunt.

And Malec—

Malec lost it.

Without warning, he pulled her closer, his breath hot against her ear.

"You really don't know when to stop, do you?"

Allora grinned despite herself.

"You're fun when you're angry."

Malec let out a dark chuckle, low and dangerous.

"You like provoking me?"

She tilted her head mockingly.

"Is it working?"

Malec didn't answer.

Instead—

He grabbed her chin, tilting her face toward him.

Before she could react, his mouth crashed onto hers.

The kiss was punishing, demanding.

Possessive.

Her heart slammed against her ribs as she shoved against him, but he didn't let go—

Not until he was finished.

When he finally pulled away, his tan eyes were blazing.

"Now," he murmured, brushing his lips against her ear, "let's see who else dares to admire you."

Allora glared at Malec, wiping her mouth.

"That was unnecessary."

Malec smiled—not smugly this time, but darkly.

"Don't test me, little dove."

Allora narrowed her eyes.

But for the first time—

She wondered if she had pushed too far.

And that thought?

It terrified her.

The Capitol was too close now.

Allora knew she had one last chance before Malec tightened his hold completely.

She had pushed him too far, teased him too much, let herself believe she was in control.

But she wasn't.

Not anymore.

Not after that kiss in the market.

Not after the dark fire in his eyes.

Not after the way he held her tighter, watched her closer.

So as their group set up camp for the night near a dense forest, she made her move.

She waited until Malec was preoccupied with the guards, discussing their route for the morning.

She slipped away into the trees.

Silent. Careful.

One step. Two.

Then—

A sharp snap of a branch behind her.

A strong hand closed around her arm.

"Not this time, dove."

Malec's voice was like ice, low and seething.

Allora barely had time to react before he spun her around, dragging her back toward camp.

His grip was punishing, his fingers biting into her skin.

She thrashed, but his strength was unmatched.

"Let me go, you bastard!" she spat.

Malec didn't stop.

Didn't flinch.

Didn't even look at her.

He just kept walking.

Faster. Harder.

And then—

He slammed her against a tree.

His tan eyes burned, molten with fury.

"You really don't know when to quit, do you?"

Allora's breath hitched.

She had never seen him this angry before.

Never seen him this close to losing control.

"You think I'll just let you run off?" he snarled.

His hands tightened on her wrists, pressing them above her head.

"I should take you back to the North."

His voice dropped lower.

"I should lock you up in my castle for the rest of your miserable little life."

Allora's stomach twisted.

No.

No, no, no—

She was too close to the Capitol.

Too close to getting back to the portal.

She couldn't let this happen.