The palace bells hadn't rung yet, but soft morning light spilled lazily through the embroidered curtains of the royal chambers. The pale-pink glow of dawn kissed the silken sheets where Princess Seraphina Albinos lay sprawled like she owned the entire bed—and she did.
Her pink nightgown clung to her voluptuous frame, the satin stretched tight over her breasts as if the fabric itself was begging for mercy. Every slow breath made the gown rise and fall, her cleavage deepening, threatening to spill free if she rolled the wrong way.
"Princess."
The voice was low, firm, and disciplined—the kind of tone that didn't ask but commanded.
Seraphina groaned, burying her face deeper into the pillow. "Mmmnnn… not yet. Too early. Go away, Nivara."
