After settling Luna, my newly adopted daughter, into her room in the Imperial Palace, I was ready to dive back into work. But Cecilia had other plans. She’d handled all the paperwork to formalize my guardianship of Luna, a process we both wanted, though the matter of Luna’s mother was a tangle we’d unravel later. For now, Cecilia’s focus was elsewhere—on me.
"Finally," Cecilia murmured as Luna drifted off to sleep. Her golden hair shimmered in the soft palace light, and her crimson eyes glinted with intent. She slipped her arm around mine, her silk nightgown brushing against my skin as she guided me toward her bedroom. The air between us crackled with unspoken desire, her restraint earlier in front of Luna now giving way to something bolder.
"I didn’t expect the Crown Princess to be so... forward," I teased, my fingers grazing the curve of her waist, giving a playful pinch. Cecilia’s cheeks flushed a faint pink, but she didn’t falter. Instead, she grabbed my collar, her grip firm, and pulled me into a kiss that was all heat and hunger. Her lips were soft but demanding, and I met her with equal fervor, my hands finding her waist as our kiss deepened.
’Offense is the best defense,’ I thought, smirking against her lips as she pressed herself closer, her fingers tangling in my black hair.
"You’ve got five of us now," she whispered, her breath warm against my ear, "think you can keep up, Arthur?" Her voice was a challenge, teasing but laced with genuine curiosity.
I grinned, my blue eyes locking with hers. "You think I haven’t missed you, Cecilia? I’ve been craving this." It was true. Since leaving Mythos Academy, my time with the girls had dwindled. Seraphina was buried in her intense training, Cecilia was swamped with state affairs as Crown Princess, Rose was expanding Vakrt’s influence, and Rachel was consumed with her Saintess duties in the North. Phone calls and video chats were a poor substitute for this—this fire, this connection.
’This being passion?’ came a familiar voice in my mind. Luna, my qilin spirit, not my daughter, chimed in with her usual mischief.
’Disconnect,’ I ordered, trying to focus on Cecilia’s lips trailing along my jaw.
’Humans never care when bunnies snuggle,’ Luna quipped, her tone almost pouty.
’Disconnect, Luna,’ I repeated, and the qilin’s presence faded from my consciousness. She wasn’t wrong—her snuggling comments always hit a nerve—but this moment was for Cecilia and me.
Cecilia’s hands slid under my shirt, her touch igniting a shiver down my spine. "You’re distracted," she murmured, her lips brushing my neck, leaving a trail of warmth. "Am I not enough to hold your attention?"
"Oh, you’ve got it," I said, my voice low. I tilted her chin up, capturing her mouth again, deeper this time, tasting the faint sweetness of wine on her tongue. My hands roamed, tracing the lines of her nightgown, the silk slipping under my fingers as I pulled her closer. Her breath hitched, and she arched into me, her golden hair spilling over her shoulders like a cascade of light.
The room seemed to fade, the opulent decor of the Imperial Palace blurring into the background. It was just us—her crimson eyes burning into mine, my hands memorizing every curve. She tugged at my shirt, pulling it over my head, and I reciprocated, easing the straps of her nightgown off her shoulders. The fabric pooled at her feet, and for a moment, I just stared, struck by her beauty, her confidence, the way she stood there, unapologetic and radiant.
"You’re staring," she teased, stepping closer, her fingers brushing my chest.
"Can you blame me?" I said, my voice rough. I pulled her against me, our bodies pressed together, and kissed her again, slower this time, savoring the way she melted into me. Her hands explored, nails grazing my back, and I felt the heat between us build, a slow burn threatening to consume us both.
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Arthur’s lips are relentless, a storm of heat and hunger that I meet with equal ferocity. My crimson eyes lock with his blue ones, a silent challenge sparking between us as our kisses deepen, tongues battling for control. I’m the Crown Princess, used to commanding every room I enter, but with Arthur, it’s different—he doesn’t yield easily, and neither do I. My fingers dig into his black hair, pulling just enough to make him growl against my mouth, the sound sending a thrill down my spine.
I press myself closer, my body molding to his, feeling the hard planes of his chest through the thin silk of my nightgown. My hands roam, nails scraping lightly down his back, claiming him as mine. He retaliates, his grip on my waist tightening, pulling me flush against him until there’s no space left. "Trying to take charge, Princess?" he murmurs, his voice low and teasing, lips brushing my ear. The nickname stokes my fire, and I nip his lower lip, hard enough to make him hiss.
"Trying?" I whisper back, my voice dripping with defiance. "I am in charge." I push him back a step, guiding him toward the bed, my hands splayed on his chest. But Arthur’s not one to be led so easily. He catches my wrists, spinning us until my back hits the velvet-draped wall, his body pinning mine. The sudden shift makes my breath catch, a flicker of excitement flaring in my chest. I love this—pushing him, testing him, knowing he’ll push back harder.
His mouth finds my neck, kissing and grazing with just enough teeth to make me shiver. I tilt my head, giving him access, but my hands are already working, tugging at his belt, fingers brushing the growing hardness beneath his pants. He groans, the sound raw, and I smirk, feeling a surge of triumph. "Got you," I murmur, but my victory is short-lived. Arthur’s hand slides down, tracing the edge of my panties, and I feel him press himself against me, the friction of his arousal through the fabric making my knees weaken.
"Gods, Cecilia," he breathes, his voice rough as he grinds against me, deliberate and slow. A moan escapes my lips before I can stop it, soft and needy, and I feel my control slipping. I try to regain it, hooking a leg around his waist to pull him closer, my nails digging into his shoulders. But every roll of his hips unravels me further, the heat pooling low in my belly, my panties dampening under his touch. I’m losing, and I love it—love the way he makes me surrender, even as I fight to keep the upper hand.
"Still in charge?" he teases, his lips hovering over mine, his hardness pressing insistently against me. I try to retort, but another moan betrays me as he moves just right, the pleasure stealing my words. My golden hair clings to my flushed skin, and I arch into him, craving more, my body betraying my need. I’m the Crown Princess, but here, with Arthur, I’m just Cecilia—his, and he knows it.