MasukLucian’s POV There was less amusement in the question than I expected. I looked towards the window. Morning light lay across the edge of the desk, catching the paper beneath my hand. I could have named moments. Her arrival at the ball. The meadow. An argument that should have irritated me more than it did. None would have answered him honestly.“I don’t know,” I said.Marcel’s expression changed. The smile faded, and for a moment he studied me with the attention he brought to things that mattered. I picked up the document again but did not continue reading.“How are you going to handle your mother?” he asked. “And Mirabeth?”“My position hasn’t changed.”“Your mother may expect otherwise.”“She will hear it from me.”Marcel leaned back. He did not look reassured, though he knew better than to confuse a question about my intentions with an opportunity to decide them.“Before or after she learns how personally you received Seraphina?”I held his gaze. “I was not interested in the union
Lucian’s POVI eased my arm from beneath Seraphina and got out of bed slowly. She stirred when I moved, her fingers brushing the place I had occupied before settling against the sheet. I stopped beside the mattress and waited. Her breathing remained deep and even. Good. She needed the rest. The previous night had been new to her in more ways than I had understood when I first brought her into my arms, and I had no intention of waking her merely because my day had begun. She might be uncomfortable when she rose. At the very least, she would be tired.I drew the covers higher over her shoulder. Her face turned slightly towards the pillow. Awake, she would probably have caught me watching and demanded to know what I found so interesting. Now her mouth rested softly, without an answer waiting behind it. I stayed longer than I needed to. She had chosen to remain. I remembered the quiet certainty with which she had answered me, then the uncertainty afterwards when she thought she should ret
Seraphina's POVLucian’s mouth claimed mine. He kissed me fiercely. There was no slow build, no hesitation, just the press of his body against mine and the heat of his hands already tugging at my dress. Fabric tore in his grip, sliding off my shoulders and pooling at my feet until I stood in nothing but thin underwear that barely covered anything. His lips never left mine, moving with a hunger that made my knees weak.He broke the kiss only to trail his mouth down my throat, teeth grazing the pulse hammering there. My head tipped back on instinct, giving him more access. He took it, lips dragging lower, over the valley between my breasts, tongue flicking out to taste skin already flushed and damp. Every inch he covered sent sparks racing through me. When he reached my stomach, his hands gripped my hips hard enough to hold me still, and I felt the scrape of his stubble against my belly.Lucian looked up at me then, eyes dark and unreadable, and with one smooth motion he hooked his fing
Seraphina’s POVI followed him towards his table, aware of the attention returning now that I was no longer safely hidden against his chest. Lucian drew out the chair beside his own and waited until I sat before taking his place. Marcel joined us with an ease I envied. He seemed entirely comfortable beside the King, neither stiff with ceremony nor careless about where he was.I arranged my skirt beneath the table and reached for the composure I had briefly possessed in front of the mirror. Fragments of conversation began finding me.“Who is she?”The question came from somewhere behind my shoulder. I kept my eyes on the table.“I’ve seen her in the palace.”A pause followed, then a quieter voice.“A werewolf?”I lifted my glass and took a small sip. My mouth had gone dry.“She’s beautiful, certainly, but beside the King…”The rest disappeared beneath another conversation. I was not sorry to lose it. I set the glass down carefully. Questions about where I came from reached me next, fol
Seraphina’s POVThe silence made walking difficult. I had been managing perfectly well beside Marcel in the corridor. Now, with the ballroom spread before me and faces turning in our direction, I became aware of every movement I made. The brush of my skirt against my ankles. My fingers resting on Marcel’s arm. The distance between one step and the next. No one had asked a question, but I felt as though I had already failed to answer it.‘Keep your head up,’ Isolde urged. ‘We look good.’‘They’re staring.’‘Then let them get a proper look.’Her confidence did very little for mine. I kept my chin lifted because lowering it would have felt worse, and tried to remember that I had been invited. The blue gown was mine to wear for the evening. The arm supporting my hand belonged to the man sent to escort me. I had done nothing wrong by entering through the door.Then I saw Lucian approaching. Everything inside me became less manageable. He walked through the space opening between the guests
Lucian’s POVThe hierarchy of the room required little announcement. It existed in the pauses, the depth of a bow, the care with which a man waited for me to finish speaking before answering. Those who had spent years near the throne knew better than to assume proximity granted them equality.My uncle joined the small gathering around me. My mother’s younger brother bowed with more care than he had shown when entering my rooms the previous evening. I received the gesture without comment. He had been told where he stood. I expected him to remember it. The conversation remained harmless for a short while. Then one of the men nearest him lowered his voice.“There has been troubling talk concerning the werewolf packs, Your Majesty.”I looked at him.“What talk?”“The possibility of unrest,” he replied. “An uprising.”A woman beside him glanced towards the people beyond our group before returning her attention to me. The word had sharpened the conversation immediately. I could see it in th







