[Silthara Palace—Midnight Deepens—Emperor's Chamber]
The moon drifted higher, whitening the silk curtains and casting long, trembling shadows across the chamber floor.
Heat thickened the air.
Not the ordinary warmth of the desert night—this heat pulsed, breathed, and rose in waves from Levin's skin until even the incense could not keep pace with it. His breath hitched, uneven, the sound almost fragile.
Zeramet sat where he was—on the carved obsidian couch—wine glass half-lowered.
He wasn't smirking now, not fully. He was watching as his Alpha wife, Levin, was unraveling.
His body arched helplessly against the sheets, breath catching in ragged, half-broken sounds he couldn't swallow.
"Hngh… haaa… haa…" The moan escaped Levin mouth as his thumbs pressed his nipples, circling and flicking the nub, desperate, reckless, and drunk in his own pheromone.
