The Breakfast Trap

Henry had expected the morning after a humiliating defeat to feel… well, humiliating.

Instead, it felt warm.

Too warm.

Suspiciously warm.

And suspiciously soft.

He cracked one eye open.

"Oh, come on—AGAIN?!"

There she was. Seraphina. Draped over him like a smug, sexy octopus, her robe completely undone, leg hitched around his waist, one arm thrown across his chest like she owned the place.

Which, technically, she did.

"You're like a blanket with boundary issues!" he groaned, trying to extract himself without waking the demon queen clinging to him like a koala.

Too late.

"Mmm," she purred, eyes still closed, lips brushing his collarbone with alarming casualness. "You're so tense in the mornings, Henry. Would you like me to help with that?"

"I would like you to stop molesting me in my sleep, actually."

She opened one eye, glinting with mischief. "Such dramatic words. You sound like a scandalized maiden."

"I feel like a scandalized maiden!"

She shifted lazily, and Henry immediately went rigid.

"Stop moving," he hissed.

"Why?" she asked, blinking innocently. "Afraid something might rise to the occasion?"

"SERAPHINA."

She giggled and finally rolled off him, stretching with a catlike grace that was entirely too much for seven in the morning.

"Relax, my love," she said, tying her robe loosely. "We have a big day ahead."

"Oh god," Henry muttered. "What fresh torment awaits me now?"

---

The fresh torment, as it turned out, was breakfast.

And not just any breakfast.

A very public, extremely formal, disgustingly romantic breakfast.

The palace had pulled out all the stops. A private garden table overflowing with fruits, pastries, exotic teas, and more rose petals than Henry thought legally allowed on a dining surface.

He blinked at it all. "Is someone getting proposed to?"

Seraphina smiled, snapping open her fan. "No, silly. This is for us. A celebratory breakfast for the victorious couple."

"We are not a couple."

"Tell that to the royal newsletter. Headline reads: Lady Seraphina Claims Her Man in Glorious Duel. Wedding Bells Next?"

Henry choked on his tea. "They printed that?!"

"Of course," she said breezily. "Your little scream made for a lovely quote."

"You're evil."

"And you're dramatic. We're perfect."

She reached over and delicately fed him a strawberry.

Henry froze, mid-bite.

"Are you hand-feeding me now?"

"Well, yes," she said, placing another piece of fruit at his lips. "You're mine now. It's important to keep my property well-fed and well… cared for."

He chewed like a man awaiting his execution.

The worst part? The strawberry was actually incredible.

He swallowed. "This doesn't change anything."

Seraphina leaned closer, lips brushing the shell of his ear. "Doesn't it?"

Henry dropped his fork.

---

By midday, things somehow got weirder.

He'd been told they were "going for a walk." A lovely, romantic, stroll through the palace gardens.

Lies.

Deceit.

Treacherous wordplay.

Because the moment they stepped outside, Henry realized something was very, very wrong.

Every noblewoman in a five-mile radius was suddenly very interested in Henry.

"Oh my," cooed a Lady something-or-other, fluttering her lashes. "So you're the infamous Henry. I must say, the rumors did not do you justice…"

Henry, wide-eyed and cornered like a deer in a silk trap, stammered, "I—I'm not that interesting, really."

"Don't be modest," said another, sliding a hand along his arm. "The way you fell in that duel… so gracefully tragic."

"Oh yes," said a third. "And then she claimed you in front of everyone. It was… primal."

Henry backed away slowly. "I think I hear Seraphina calling—"

"You rang?" came a voice like velvet and knives.

The crowd of women scattered like doves.

Seraphina appeared at his side, expression unreadable.

Henry tried not to look like he'd just narrowly avoided being devoured.

"Are you pimping me out for street cred?" he hissed.

She smiled. "Of course not."

"You definitely are."

"Maybe a little."

"SERAPHINA."

"What?" she said, looping her arm through his. "If I'm going to parade you around like a trophy husband, I might as well get mileage out of it."

"I am not your husband!"

"Not yet."

Henry considered throwing himself into the nearest fountain.

---

By the time evening rolled around, he was convinced nothing else could surprise him.

Then he walked into her chambers and froze.

The room had been transformed.

Candles. So many candles.

Rose petals again.

Music. Soft, sensual, suspiciously seductive music.

And in the middle of it all: a very smug Seraphina, lounging on a chaise in the single most scandalous nightgown he'd ever seen.

Henry stared, mouth opening and closing like a fish.

"Surprise," she purred. "I thought we might have a nice, relaxing evening. Just the two of us."

"I am not mentally prepared for this."

"You weren't mentally prepared for the duel either, and look how well that turned out."

He clutched the doorframe. "This feels like a trap."

"Oh, it is."

She crooked a finger.

He stepped forward. He wasn't sure why. Maybe curiosity. Maybe resignation. Maybe sheer exhaustion.

The moment he sat, Seraphina straddled his lap like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING—"

"Testing gravity," she whispered. "Still works. Lovely."

Henry's soul left his body.

She leaned in closer, pressing her forehead to his. "You know, Henry… we really do have chemistry."

"You have chemicals. Dangerous ones. You are a walking hazard."

She brushed her lips over his cheek. "You're blushing."

"I am overheating due to proximity to a fire demon, yes."

Seraphina laughed softly, fingers playing with the hair at the back of his neck. "You're adorable when you panic."

"And you're terrifying when you flirt."

"You haven't seen me really flirt."

Henry stood up so fast she slid off with a startled yelp.

"I NEED WATER."

"You need me."

"I need therapy."

---

Later that night, Henry lay in bed staring at the ceiling.

Again.

Seraphina was beside him, reading a book like she hadn't just tried to seduce him within an inch of his life.

He exhaled. "You are the worst thing that has ever happened to me."

She turned a page. "And yet, here you are. In my bed. Again."

He turned to look at her. "Why are you like this?"

She closed her book and met his gaze. "Because you make it fun."

Henry blinked.

She leaned in, expression suddenly softer. "You challenge me, Henry. You don't grovel. You don't obey. You fight, even when you have no chance."

He stared. For a terrifying moment, he thought she might actually kiss him.

But she only smirked and rolled over.

"Goodnight, dear."

Henry lay there, stunned.

Then—

"Wait. Are you saying you like me because I annoy you?"

She chuckled. "Oh, sweetie. I adore you because you annoy me."

Henry groaned and buried his face in the pillow.

This woman was going to be the death of him.

And maybe, just maybe… he was starting not to mind.