-Lucien Draven:
The moment the heavy iron doors of the brothel swung open, the cold air of the outside world hit me like a slap. My body was still warm, humming from the hours I had spent inside, from their hands, their mouths, their voices. But reality crashed back as the king's guards—faceless, armored figures—grabbed me by the arms.
I barely had time to react before they yanked me forward.
"Enough fun for you," one of them muttered under his breath, his grip tight and unyielding.
The other scoffed. "The king said to bring him back. We're done here."
They didn't give me a chance to resist. Not that I would have. What would be the point? I had nowhere else to go. So I let them pull me through the winding streets, my legs still unsteady, my head still filled with the scent of them—Lena's perfume, Marisol's breathy laughter, Kieran's hands, Vale's teasing smirk.
