Content Warning: This chapter contains graphic sexual content, mature power dynamics, and adult themes. Intended for adult audiences. Reader discretion is advised.

Alaric woke to heat and pressure. His brain lagged behind his body.

Wet. Intense. The line between dream and waking blurred completely.

He gasped, hips arching off the bed before he understood what was happening. Her tongue worked him with a rhythm that felt like ownership. Hair loose and wild across his thighs, strands sticking to sweat-slicked skin.

Her perfume hit him, faint but unmistakable. Too sweet. No, sour today. Something underneath it now.

He reached down. Fingers found her cheek, felt her smirk against his cock. With his other hand he fumbled for the nightstand, nearly knocked over a dish. Found the glass vial.

Uncorked it with his thumb and drank. The tonic tasted bitter, no, metallic, like old coins and something worse underneath. They'd been up most of the night after someone broke into the archives.

"Finally awake?" Evelyne's voice came low and amused.

She didn't stop. Took him deeper, one hand bracing his hip, the other pressing his stomach flat. Keeping him pinned while she pulled him apart with just her mouth.

She released him with a final kiss, rose slowly, her bare skin sliding up his body warm and flushed and smelling like perfume mixed with something sharper.

Without ceremony, she straddled him. Her formal gown lay heaped by the fireplace, marking the path she'd taken before dawn to claim what was hers.

"Morning," she said. "You're late."

She didn't wait. Her hips rolled down, slow and brutal.

His hands caught her waist by instinct. This time she let them. Her breath hitched. Not irritation. Pleasure.

"Good," she murmured against his ear. "Hold tight. I want to feel it when you lose control."

She moved like she owned him, and maybe she did, maybe he let her because fighting her was exhausting and giving in felt easier right now.

Alaric groaned as she settled fully. Her pace was vicious from the start, nails scratching down his chest, breathing already ragged.

"You were dreaming about her." Not a question. She rolled her hips harder, brutal. Too hard. "Tell me it wasn't me."

Alaric gritted his teeth. "Don't start."

"Then don't lie while you're inside me." She slammed down harder. "Just fuck me like you mean it."

And candlelight flickered across the ceiling while he gripped the sheets, trying to stay grounded as she rode him into the mattress, relentless and loud enough that someone probably heard them through the door.

When she came, she didn't slow, kept going until he finished too and gasped beneath her, vision blurring at the edges.

She rolled off, chest heaving. Then leaned down, lips brushing his jaw. "Still breathing?"

Alaric managed a grunt. His fingers dug into the sheets.

She laughed low. "Good. You're not done."

With deliberate intent, she pushed him down and straddled him again. This time grinding against him with obvious precision. Her nails bit into his shoulders, drawing small crescents.

"You know what I love?" Her breath warmed his skin. Tongue traced his ear, followed by a bite that made him jolt. "Even when you're trying to forget her, you're still thinking about me."

Alaric's hands clutched her hips. His breath caught as she began riding him again. Slower. Crueler. Every movement calculated.

"Say it," she ordered. Velvet over steel.

"You're in control," he gasped.

"Louder."

"You're in control." His voice broke as her pace quickened.

When she finally let him finish, it shattered him. Body trembling beneath her, jaw slack, hands falling away useless.

Still breathless but smiling, she leaned over him. "Better."

Alaric's hand shot out, grabbed Evelyne by the hips and flipped her onto her back in one rough move, his elbow knocked something off the nightstand in the process.

She gasped. Startled and pleased.

He pinned her wrists above her head. Teeth grazed her throat.

"You want me to prove it?" he growled.

Her smirk widened. "Finally."

He drove into her with brutal rhythm, made her gasp then curse then moan his name like a challenge, and she arched under him while nails dragged down his back drawing lines that would mark him tomorrow, legs locking around his waist or trying to, she kept slipping, readjusting, her breath hot against his neck and saying something he couldn't hear over his own pulse.

The fire popped. A spark hit his forearm. He barely felt it.

Evelyne came hard, clawing at him. As she came down from the high, she pulled him into a kiss. Biting. Breathless. Claiming. Or trying to claim, her teeth caught his lip wrong and he tasted copper.

He didn't stop until she was shaking beneath him, hair stuck to flushed skin, breath coming in ragged bursts.

"Again," she whispered. Voice raw.

He kept going until her nails drew blood and his voice broke on her name, or almost her name, but,

The candle guttered. Went out. Someone would need to replace it later.

Only then she finally rose up, shaky, still grinning like she'd won something.

They lay side by side for a moment. Not touching. Not speaking.

Sweat cooled. He noticed the draft through the window, absurd detail at the wrong time. The scent of iron and spent passion hung heavy.

Then Evelyne sat up and started dressing. Didn't look at him.

"You're quiet," she said casually, slipping her chemise back on. "Did I break you again?"

Alaric slowly sat up, dragged a hand through his hair. "I'm fine."

"You say that." She fastened her bodice. "You look like hell though."

He dressed in silence. The room reeked of sweat and power and something darker he didn't want to name.

"I had a thought," Evelyne said as she tightened her corset. "About last night."

Alaric's jaw tightened.

"Too clean. Too professional. Someone was hunting for leverage."

"Caelan," Alaric said darkly. "Or one of his people. They've been sniffing around, looking for dirt to use during negotiations."

Evelyne stepped behind him. Her fingers brushed lint from his shoulders. "Or another noble house. Everyone wants something to hold over us during alliance talks."

"Whoever it was knew our ward patterns." Alaric's voice went flat. "That takes inside knowledge."

"Which means we have a problem." Evelyne's voice turned thoughtful. "Speaking of problems. Have you noticed how bold Seraphina's gotten since Caelan started hovering?"

Alaric turned to face her. "What about her?"

"She's gotten bolder. Like she thinks she has actual power." Evelyne stepped into her slippers, adjusting the strap slowly. "The timing bothers me."

Alaric's mouth tightened. "You think he's filling her head with ideas?"

"I think he's giving her confidence. Always sniffing around like some half-tamed hound." Evelyne's eyes narrowed. "And now with this break-in... what if he's not just emboldening her? What if he's giving her information?"

"You're not jealous of him, are you?" Almost amused.

Alaric's shoulders went rigid. His hands clenched once. Released. A tell she'd learned to read years ago.

"She's still mine."

The words came out rougher than intended. Possessive in a way that made something dark flicker behind his eyes. He almost said her name. Stopped himself.

Evelyne turned fully now. Eyebrow raised. "Are you sure about that?"

He rolled his shoulders once. Spine straightening like he was about to walk into battle. "She belongs to me."

Her smile was razor-sharp. "There's my charming bastard."

Neither of them heard the soft shift of a servant's passage door. Neither noticed the figure tucked in the alcove behind the tapestries.

Not a maid. Not a stray listener.

Someone sent.

The spy's breath didn't even fog the cold stone as they recorded every word, every moan, every plan. Some secrets were worth more than gold. House Vessant's enemies would pay handsomely for this particular performance.

Evelyne crossed the room. Kissed Alaric once more, sharp and claiming.

"There's a gathering this afternoon in the rose garden," she said, reaching for her gloves. "I assume you've heard?"

Alaric gave a noncommittal grunt. "Your doing?"

"Of course. Intimate. Handpicked. Loaded with people who matter and one or two who think they do."

She turned to face him, lips curling. "I'm letting Cordelia claw her way back into relevance. All I have to do is open the cage."

He raised an eyebrow. "Cordelia?"

"She's been lurking around the estate for weeks. Desperate to be seen with you again." Evelyne's voice dripped with false sympathy. "Poor thing still thinks she has a chance."

Alaric gave her a skeptical look. "And you think she'll do your dirty work for free?"

"She resents Seraphina enough to make it look organic. All she needs is the right nudge and a public stage." Evelyne looked satisfied. "They've started calling Seraphina the Flame Duchess. Isn't that charming? Let's see how she handles Cordelia gushing about your time together. Loudly. In public."

His posture shifted. Tension coiled in his shoulders. "She'll perform."

"Like clockwork." Evelyne turned back once, lips curling. "And if Caelan's been whispering in her ear, that's fine. Let's see how well she handles being paraded beside the woman Alaric used to fuck."

That brought a ripple of darkness across Alaric's features. "Perfect. Let her see what happens when she forgets her place."

"The tea party isn't a gathering. It's a loaded crossbow. Seraphina's the target."

She opened the door but paused. Her expression turned knife-sharp. "I'm going to see Seraphina now. She likes to pretend she has teeth. Let's see how she handles venom."

Her knuckles tapped once on the frame.

Then she was gone.

House Vessant wanted her pliable. Obedient. Easier to own.

Evelyne wasn't going to wait for her to break. She'd start carving now.