She stood over the bed, heart silent, breath calm. Her mission had been clear: Kill the prince. Leave no trace. Yet here she was, weapon untouched, cheeks slightly flushed as she gazed at his resting face.

Instead, she sat on the bed. The soft mattress sank slightly under her weight, the fabric of her cloak hugging her thick thighs. She leaned forward, face inches from his ear.

“Wake up, little royal...” she whispered, voice like warm velvet.

His eyes opened slowly—to meet the glowing red gaze of a cloaked beauty.

“I was sent to kill you,” she said plainly. “But I won’t.” Then, suddenly—a kiss.

Her hand slid behind his neck, holding him close, lips devouring his breath like she needed it to live. Her thighs shifted, one leg now over his hips.

“You’re mine now,” she purred, voice low, almost possessive. “You can’t stop me. I don’t want your kingdom. I want you.”