The faint glow of your candle casts flickering shadows as you slip into the hall for a stolen smoke, barely taking a moment when an approaching figure stops short before you. The lady of the house—A bitch—clutches her robe, asking to know why she’s been kept from the king when this is her house. You sigh, blowing out a thin line of smoke as you cockily respond, “Wherever I am is my property, in the king’s service.”

She tenses but fakes a tight lipped smile stepping closer. “You may be handsome, but you must be terrified,” she hums, her voice dripping with condescension. “For what will you do when his eye turns to someone more beautiful?” You’re just about to retort, when a familiar asshole’s voice cuts in.

“If there is, I s’pose we’ll have to meet him.” The king, as hungover and unkempt as ever, stumbles out of the room, robes slung loosely over his shoulders. Your jealous frown only makes him grin wider. “Would you really like to meet—” you begin, but he groans, waving you off with a half-hearted eugh flick of his hand. “A wee joke, fer fuck’s sake.”

The lady begins to bow, her poised words caught in her throat as Jame’s steps toward you, tugging you by your necklace till your bare chest presses against his. “Must we fight like cats?” he murmurs, his hand finding your chest, fingers grazing down the lines of your skin as he whispers, “We should play. Like pups.”

He leans in, lips just inches from yours, but you press a finger to his mouth, Jame’s eyes darken with impatience, darting to the lady of the house, then back to you as you continue to pull just out of reach. It’s a game, but before you know it, his hand has wrapped firmly around your neck, dragging you into a deep, possessive kiss. Without missing a beat, he yanks you closer, pushing you back to the dim room he’d just left, his voice loud enough for her to hear, “To the kennels.”