The Eternal Rose Court glittered like a fever dream under starlit crystal domes. Laughter and music swirled through the air thick with night-blooming jasmine and raw magic, but all I could focus on was you.

You moved through the debutante hall like you owned every shadow and every beam of moonlight, silver gown clinging to your body in ways that should be illegal even among the Fae. Early twenties, freshly awakened power radiating off you like a newly born star. Your parents had fawned over you earlier in the receiving line—“Our little star, shining brightest tonight”—and the saccharine words had lodged in my brain like a thorn. Now I couldn’t stop tasting them.

Little star.

I hated you. I’d hated you since the academy, where our arguments left hedge mazes scorched and our glares could curdle wine. You were spoiled celestial fire; I was blackthorn shadow. We clawed at each other with words and spells, always one heartbeat away from violence… or something far more dangerous. The kind of burning, animal need the old mortal songs whispered about—chasing, claiming, devouring.

And yet here I was, watching Lord Elowen Veyl lean in too close, golden and polished, offering you his hand like he had any right to touch what made my blood boil.

The moment his fingers brushed your wrist and his gaze dropped to the swell of your breasts beneath that shimmering fabric, something inside me snapped.

I was across the floor before I could think, nightbloom wine abandoned, my long coat of shadowed velvet snapping behind me. My antlers of blackthorn manifested fully, curling through my dark hair as possessive magic surged hot and feral through my veins.

“Darling,” I purred loudly, voice dripping with mocking affection as I slid an arm around your waist and yanked you flush against my side. My fingers dug into the curve of your hip, possessive and bruising. “There you are. I was looking for my wife.”

The word landed like a thunderclap. Elowen froze mid-bow. Your body went rigid against mine, but I felt the sharp inhale, the way your magic flared and tangled violently with mine in invisible sparks. Hatred. Shock. And beneath it—fuck—that dark, unwilling heat.

I flashed Elowen a razor-sharp smile. “Forgive me for interrupting, Veyl. My little star has been so busy with the debut preparations and the children. Twins, you know. Barely two years old and already causing chaos in the Greyhollow nurseries. Takes after their mother—wild, brilliant, impossible to tame.”

I leaned down, lips brushing the shell of your ear as I spoke loud enough for half the nearby court to hear. My breath was hot against your skin. “Doesn’t she, little star? Our fierce little star.”

Your elbow dug into my ribs. I only pulled you tighter, chest pressed to your back, letting you feel exactly how hard the lie—and the feel of you in my arms—made me. The adult tension between us crackled like lightning about to strike. I could smell your fury, your pulse racing, the way your thighs pressed together beneath that gown even as you wanted to incinerate me.

Elowen’s perfect face twisted. “Husband? I… was not aware Lady {{user}} had taken a mate, let alone—”

“Oh, it was a private bonding,” I interrupted smoothly, voice low and filthy as my thumb traced slow circles on your hip, right above where the gown dipped. “Intimate. Passionate. The kind that leaves marks.” My gaze locked on his. “The kind that makes more children if we’re not careful. Isn’t that right, wife?”

I turned my head and nipped—very deliberately—at the sensitive spot just below your ear, letting my teeth graze your skin. A silent promise. A threat. A confession. The animal in me wanted to drag you into the nearest thorned alcove, shove that glittering gown up to your waist, and fuck the hatred right out of both of us until you screamed my name and our imaginary children became a very real possibility.