Chapter 9

Jules POV

I swallowed hard.

This wasn’t just survival now. This was a game of fire, and I had no choice but to play.

The room was heavy with anticipation as I met Gale’s eyes, his sharp jawline and piercing stare commanding attention. The floor beneath us glowed dimly, casting flickers of gold across bare skin and eager eyes. Around us, shadows danced to the rhythm of lust and wine-soaked laughter, the air thick with want.

This was no longer just a party. It was a spectacle.

And I was the centerpiece.

Gale’s gaze lingered on me with that crooked grin, his voice low enough to make my skin crawl. 

He reached out, and I let him. His fingers brushed my wrist, his touch deceptively gentle. He didn’t pull. He didn’t need to. The moment I stepped forward, the crowd responded with a chorus of hushed laughter and slow, delighted claps.

The scent of sandalwood and smoke lingered on Gale’s skin as he led me to the center. My feet felt heavy against the polished floor, my heart hammering loud enough I was sure someone would hear it.

A sharp-edged tension coiled around the room, unnoticed by the others but choking me.

“You nervous?” Gale’s whisper brushed against my cheek.

I shook my head. Lie.

The people around us leaned closer, hungry. The woman who had summoned me called out with a wicked smile, “Come now, let’s not keep our king waiting. Give us a show.”

Someone laughed. Another whistled.

Even the guards nearby smirked.

And yet… Lucian remained frozen.

Almost like if he moved, he’d snap.

Like if Gale got any closer, blood would spill.

My skin prickled with heat—fear, tension, and the strange magnetic pull of Lucian’s attention all merging into something unbearable.

And still… I stepped closer to Gale.

Because I couldn’t break.

Not now. Not in front of him.

Not in front of them.

Gale’s fingers brushed my cheek, firm, yet strangely gentle and I closed my eyes, letting out a shaky breath. This was it. The moment I dreaded. The moment I feared… and had to survive.

Then Gale leaned in.

His lips grazed mine in a slow, teasing kiss that stole the air from my lungs. My fingers trembled as they found purchase on his broad shoulders, warm, sculpted, his skin smooth beneath my touch. His body radiates confidence, ease, like this was a performance he was used to giving. But for me, every second was a balancing act between life and death.

His mouth was deliberate, his kisses not rushed, but coaxing. Tempting. His tongue traced the seam of my lips, a gentle prod that demanded a reaction. I hesitated… then parted my mouth, just slightly. Enough.

The taste of mint and whiskey exploded on my senses, a potent blend of cool freshness and smoky warmth that was both bold and intoxicating.

Laughter bubbled from the crowd, whispers chasing across the room like smoke.

But none of that mattered.

Because at that moment, I could feel Lucian. His presence was like a phantom’s touch crawling down my spine. My skin prickled with awareness, every nerve attuned to the weight of his silence. He hadn’t spoken a word but his rage echoed like thunder behind glass. Contained. Cracking.

I dared not look at him.

If I did, I was sure I’d unravel.

But even without glancing his way, I could see it. In my mind, the way his jaw ticked. The flare of his nostrils. The silent storm building behind his cold, golden eyes.

He hated this.

Hated seeing me touched.

Hated the show.

And yet, he couldn’t stop it, not without raising questions.

And his silence was the only thing holding his secret and mine together.

Gale deepened the kiss slightly, his hand now cradling the back of my neck, fingers threading through my hair. The crowd howled with approval.

And inside, I was screaming.

Because I wasn’t sure who this game was destroying more.

Me or the king who couldn’t claim a boy.

Our kisses deepened, a slow-burning performance of lips and breath meant to captivate the crowd. But my mind wasn’t lost in passion, it was spinning, calculating, every nerve frayed as I danced the fine line between deception and exposure.

Gale’s hands slid down my back, the heat of his touch searing through the thin fabric. His grip was firm but cautious, strangely tender for a man built like a warrior. As if he sensed I wasn’t ready. As if he knew something about me was... fragile.

He dipped lower, brushing his lips along the curve of my neck. His breath hit the sensitive skin there, hot, sending an involuntary shiver through me. I hated that it felt good. Hated that my body was betraying me even as my mind screamed in fear.

“You’re so beautiful,” Gale murmured against my ear, the words barely audible over the heavy beat of the music, the laughter, the clink of goblets around us.

My stomach twisted.

Beautiful.

The word clung to me like a snare. Did he mean it? Or was it part of the act?

Either way, my cheeks deepened to a warm pink, I felt a lump in my throat and panic slithered through my gut like a living thing.

Because he couldn’t know.

No one could.

Not yet.

Not here.

His hands traveled down, finding the hem of my shirt. And that’s when my heart stuttered. This was it. The moment I had dreaded. The unraveling of the lie that had kept me alive.

“Wait,” I breathed, my voice trembling.

Gale froze. His brow furrowed, the confidence in his posture fading, replaced with quiet concern. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice low and sincere, a whisper of kindness in a brutal world.

I didn’t answer right away.

“I…” I faltered, my lungs straining as if the very air had turned thick. “I can’t…”

Gale’s eyes searched mine, softening. “Can’t what?”

His hands had stilled at my hips, waiting.

I swallowed hard. The pressure of the crowd weighed on me, watching, craving a climax to this display. But this wasn’t just a show. This was the thin veil hiding my truth.

“I’m not…” I glanced down, then away, voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t take this off.”

A beat of silence passed.

A dangerous one.

Then Gale nodded slowly, leaning closer, shielding me with his body like a curtain drawn closed. 

“Please… play along, and continue while I tell you,” I whispered, lips barely moving, my breath brushing against Gale’s skin as if it were part of the act.

His body tensed. Just for a heartbeat.

His eyes flicked down to mine, stormy with curiosity but not alarm.

Still, my heart pounded, my words rushing out in a desperate murmur, cloaked beneath the illusion of a kiss. “I’m not… I’m not a boy,” I breathed against his mouth, trembling. “I’m a girl. I’m hiding. If king Lucian finds out, I’m dead.”

Gale’s arms didn’t pull away.

Instead, they tightened around me.

His fingers slid to the back of my neck, holding me there as if he were about to kiss me again but really, it was to keep the illusion going. His face was so close, it was almost touching mine.

“I knew,” he whispered, his voice low and steady. “I could tell.”

My breath hitched. My lips barely parted, still brushing his.

“Then why… why didn’t you say something?”

“I figured you had your reasons,” he said, his thumb brushing the side of my face. “And I could see the fear in your eyes when they pulled you in here. I’ve seen that look before. Survivors wear it.”

My eyes welled with tears. Not just from fear anymore, but from the raw, unexpected kindness in his voice.

“I can’t let them see me,” I whispered shakily, still caught in the rhythm of our slow, sensual performance. “If you try to take my clothes off… it’s over. It’ll all be over.”

Gale’s lips brushed my cheek, soft, deliberate, careful. To the watching crowd, it looked like seduction.

“I won’t,” he promised. His voice held no hesitation. “Ever. Let them think what they want. We’ll give them their show but on our terms.”

A shaky breath escaped my lips, my forehead resting against his chest. His scent, a hint of something evergreen wrapped around me like a shield.

“I’m scared,” I admitted.

“I know,” he murmured. “But I’ve got you.”

His hands never strayed, never took more than I offered. And yet, somehow, the tension in the room grew thicker. The crowd leaned in, hungry for more, not knowing they were witnessing something entirely different from what they imagined.

To them, it was two men pretending to lose themselves in desire.

To us, it was an alliance.

A secret pact formed between strangers.

We couldn’t afford to slip. Not for a second.

“Let me please you instead,” I murmured, my lips brushing against his jawline like a secret only he could hear.

Gale nodded, his body ready, but there was something in his expression: a hint of restraint, of silent understanding. His hands slowly moved up my sides, fingers spread as if he wanted to remember every inch of me. Not just to touch but to learn. To respect. To carefully map me in a way I did not expect.

Then he lowered his head and used his mouth to find the hollow of my neck and kissed it gently. I felt heat blossom everywhere as his tongue traced gentle shapes against the vulnerable flesh and I fought not to lean like a melted candle beneath him. The crowd looked on, their dark pleasure and excitement giving them courage as they squeezed in closer to us, never realizing that the truth of what was happening remained exposed and completely visible to them all the same.

I sucked in an audible gasp as Gale's fingers moved lower, my heart beginning to pound against my ribs. I knew what this was supposed to be. What they wanted this to become.

But I was unable to. I was unsure I could survive it. 

“Please,” I murmured as a waiver of desperation snuck into my voice. “I can’t . . . I can’t let you . . . “ 

He froze. His eyes lifted to mine. 

And in that moment, time stopped.

“Shh,” he said softly with a tenderness that had me almost breaking down. He cupped my cheek with one hand and his thumb grazed the panic on my eyes. “I won’t. I told you, I promise. Remember, we have to pretend?”