The morning air was crisp, laced with jasmine and tension.
Seraphina stood on the palace balcony, her robe loosely tied, white silk clinging to the gentle curves of her waist and thighs. Her skin shimmered in the golden light, soft and ethereal—divine but dangerous.
Two trays of tea had been sent to her chambers.
One from Kael.
One from Rhydian.
She drank neither.
Instead, she smiled, a slow, knowing curve of her lips.
They had kissed her.
Touched her.
Craved her.
But she had not truly given herself to either of them.
And now… it was time to play.
---
That evening, she summoned them both.
Privately.
In the East Wing—a rarely used part of the palace that echoed with history and lust. There, she had prepared a room that held no throne, no judgment—only candlelight and velvet cushions scattered beneath an open skylight where the full moon poured in like liquid silver.
She wore lavender silk tonight.
Bare-backed. Nearly translucent.
A robe that slipped too easily down her shoulder.
A scent that made the air itself inhale.
Kael entered first, silent, eyes already dark with suspicion.
Rhydian followed moments later, tension in every inch of his broad chest. His nostrils flared the moment he caught her scent—and Kael's.
They both paused when they saw her standing in the center of the room.
Alone.
Waiting.
"You're both here," she said simply. "Good."
Kael's gaze flicked between the cushions and Rhydian.
Rhydian's jaw ticked. "What is this?"
"A test," Seraphina replied. "Of restraint. Of hunger."
Kael stepped closer. "You play dangerous games."
"No," she whispered, approaching him slowly. "I am the game."
She moved between them like smoke—brushing her fingers lightly down Kael's arm… then trailing them along Rhydian's chest.
Neither king moved.
Both watched her.
Wanting.
She turned to Kael first.
"You command armies with a glance," she murmured. "But can you stand still… when you want to ruin me?"
He stiffened, eyes blazing.
Then she faced Rhydian.
"You tear through enemies with your bare hands. But can you touch me…" her voice dropped, sultry and sharp, "without claiming me?"
Rhydian's breathing deepened.
The air grew thick.
Seraphina stepped back and reclined on the largest cushion, tilting her head toward them.
"Whoever lasts the longest," she said slowly, "will earn my favor."
Kael's hands clenched at his sides.
Rhydian licked his lips.
Then—she untied her robe.
It slipped from her shoulders, pooling at her waist.
Not naked.
But nearly.
Enough to make both kings lose reason.
But neither moved.
Because now… they were the ones being hunted.
The game had begun.
And Seraphina?
She didn't want submission.
She wanted to watch gods tremble.
---
Time had never moved slower.
The air inside the moonlit chamber was drenched in tension—heavy, thick, and perfumed with want.
Seraphina reclined on the velvet cushion, her robe draped just low enough to expose the smooth curve of her hips, her legs crossed deliberately to show golden skin glowing in the candlelight.
Neither king had moved.
But both were bleeding restraint.
Kael stood like a statue carved in fury. Hands clenched, jaw locked, golden eyes locked on her with a heat that scorched her skin from across the room.
Rhydian paced slowly near the glass doors, shoulders tense, wolf close beneath his flesh, lips slightly parted like he couldn't get enough air.
They had accepted her game.
But now?
It was devouring them.
Seraphina reached lazily for a glass of chilled wine and brought it to her lips, sipping with a smile that could drive kingdoms to ruin.
She didn't speak.
She didn't need to.
Her silence dared them.
Who would break first?
Who would abandon their crown for lust?
Who would shatter to taste her?
Kael took one step forward.
Just one.
But it was enough.
Rhydian growled low in his throat, moving to block Kael's path. "Don't."
Kael didn't even look at him. "Then move."
"She hasn't chosen you."
"She hasn't chosen you either."
"I'm not trying to take her," Rhydian snarled, "I'm trying to survive her."
That made Seraphina chuckle softly—a sound that licked down their spines.
"I said the one who waits," she reminded them. "Not the one who argues."
Both men froze.
But the tension snapped.
Kael moved first—not to her, but to the wall behind her. He slammed his hand against the stone, back turned, chest rising like a beast caged.
Rhydian stood still, fists trembling at his sides, eyes locked on her bare shoulder as she reclined like the queen of sin and winter.
Seraphina tilted her head toward him.
"You're shaking," she said.
"I want to touch you," Rhydian said hoarsely.
"I know."
"But I won't."
"Why?"
He looked at her—raw, exposed. "Because I want to deserve you."
Her gaze lingered.
Then slowly, slowly, she rose to her knees and crawled forward on the cushions, each movement a brush of silk and heat. She stopped at Rhydian's feet, the top of her robe nearly slipping again.
Her lips hovered near his abdomen. Close. Too close.
His jaw clenched.
She whispered, "Good."
And then—
She turned to Kael.
Still facing the wall. Breathing like he'd just returned from war.
"Kael," she said softly.
He turned.
And what he saw made him break.
She stood now—silhouetted in silver and fire, her robe slipping just far enough to reveal the softest swell of her breasts.
He crossed the room in three long strides.
His hand gripped her waist. His other slid into her hair.
And he kissed her like a man at war with himself.
Hard. Bruising. Fierce.
But the moment she leaned into him—
Seraphina pulled back.
She placed two fingers on his chest and whispered, "You lost."
Kael stepped back, breathing hard.
Rhydian didn't move. But a faint, dark smile curved on his lips.
Seraphina turned her back to both of them.
"Leave," she said. "The game's over—for now."
Neither spoke.
But when they left the room, hearts thundering, minds spinning…
They knew one thing.
She was winning.
And they were already hers.