He leaned back against a boulder, eyes closing, but he could still see him.

The boy who had bewitched him.

The river beauty.

His.

His body still ached from the sight of him, standing in the water, moonlight caressing his bare skin like it had been crafted from the gods themselves. His black hair had glistened, wet strands clinging to his slender shoulders, framing a face that was devastatingly ethereal. Crimson eyes had shone like liquid fire, framed by thick lashes that trembled each time he blinked.

But it was his lips that had undone the king.

Soft. Flushed. Slightly parted as if waiting—begging—to be kissed.

The king inhaled sharply, his hand tightening into a fist against his thigh.

That mouth.

He imagined capturing it with his own, forcing those lips open, tasting the breathless gasp that would spill out. Would the boy resist? Try to push me away with delicate hands? Or would he melt against me, shivering as he surrendered?

His fingers twitched, a low growl vibrating in his chest.

The river beauty had been unaware of the torment he caused. The way his soaked clothing had clung to his skin, sheer enough that the king had seen every delicate curve beneath. His waist—narrow and trembling. His chest—rising and falling in quickened breaths. The way his thighs had peeked from beneath the wet silk as he stepped onto the shore, water streaming down his legs.

The king let out a shaky exhale, his body burning with unbearable need.

He would look even more beautiful beneath me.

The thought was dangerous. Maddening. He could almost feel it—his weight pressing the boy down, his trembling breath hot against his skin. Would he cry out? Arch against him in resistance? Or would he surrender letting the king take everything?

The ache between his legs throbbed with unbearable need. He exhaled harshly, his fingers curling into his robes.

He wanted to mark that pale skin, to kiss down the column of his throat, to hear his gasps as he traced his tongue lower.

The king clenched his jaw, forcing himself to breathe.

This was madness.

He had never craved anyone like this. Not the noble beauties who threw themselves at his feet. Not the concubines who begged for his touch. They had all beenmeaningless.

But he—this untouchable beauty—was different.

The mere thought of another man seeing him, touching him, was unbearable.

No one else would have him. No one else would touch him.

The king's breath came out ragged.

The boy had slipped away from him tonight.

But he wouldn't escape forever.

No matter what it took, he would find him again.

And this time… he would make sure his river beauty never ran from him again.

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