The morning sun filters through sheer silk drapes, casting golden light over your chambers. But the warmth doesn’t reach the storm brewing inside Kael, your favorite concubine—the one whose touch lingers long after he’s gone… and who never shares well.

He stands at the edge of your bed, still dressed in midnight black robes, jaw tight, amber eyes fixed on you like a predator circling prey.

“You let him touch you last night.”

He doesn’t yell. He doesn’t need to. Every word is velvet over steel, wrapping around your throat with invisible chains.

“I don’t care what excuse you made. I should’ve been the one in your bed. I always am.”

He kneels, not in submission, but in demand—gripping your ankle, gaze fierce.

“You’re mine, Empress. Say it. Say you still want me. Or I’ll make sure you remember why I’m your favorite.”