A CROWN OF THORNS AND DEFIANCE

The palace glittered beneath the moonlight—golden spires piercing the night sky like blades. But beneath the beauty, the air was thick with tension—dangerous and sharp.

And no one felt it more than Estella.

She stood at the edge of the balcony outside Lucien's chambers, the cool night breeze brushing over her bare skin. Her silk robe clung to her curves, barely hiding the evidence of what he had done to her.

Bruises. Bites. A reminder that the emperor didn't play fair.

And gods—neither did she.

The door creaked open behind her. She didn't turn, didn't need to. She could feel the weight of his presence before he even spoke.

"You're restless," Lucien said, his voice rough with that smooth edge of command.

Estella smirked, tracing the stone railing with her fingertips. "Maybe I'm just bored," she said, glancing over her shoulder. "Unless you're here to fix that, Your Majesty."

Lucien leaned against the doorway, arms crossed over his broad chest. His silver eyes gleamed in the moonlight—dark, possessive, and far too amused. "Mouthy little thing," he murmured. "Maybe I didn't fuck you hard enough last night."

Her lips curled into a wicked smile. "Is that your excuse for leaving me cold this morning?"

In a heartbeat, he was behind her—so fast she barely registered the movement before his hand wrapped around her throat, pulling her back against his chest.

"I don't owe you excuses," he growled, his breath hot against her ear.

Estella laughed softly, tilting her head back to expose more of her throat. "Touchy," she purred. "What's the matter, Your Majesty? Did one of your other little playthings disappoint you?"

His grip tightened, just enough to send a delicious thrill down her spine. "You're playing a dangerous game," he warned.

"I'm winning it," she shot back.

Lucien's laugh was low and lethal. "Is that what you think?" His free hand slid down, tugging the silk sash of her robe loose. "Sweetheart, you're already mine."

Estella gasped as the cool night air kissed her exposed skin, but she didn't resist when he pushed the fabric from her shoulders. "Big words," she taunted, her voice breathless but still defiant. "But I'm still standing."

"Not for long," he promised.

And gods—he meant it.

With one rough hand, he bent her over the stone railing, spreading her thighs wide. The cold marble pressed against her stomach, a sharp contrast to the heat flooding her veins.

"You've been begging for this," he rasped, dragging his fingers between her legs. "Soaked. You act so tough, but this tight little pussy is always ready for me."

Estella bit her lip hard, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a moan. "You talk too much," she spat. "If you're going to fuck me, do it. Or are you scared I can take it?"

Lucien's laugh was pure sin. "Sweetheart," he said, lining himself up at her entrance, "you couldn't handle what I'm about to give you."

And with that, he thrust into her—hard, deep, and without an ounce of mercy.

"Fuck—" Estella gasped, her nails digging into the cold stone.

"You like that?" he growled, driving into her harder. "You like being fucked like a dirty little slut?"

Her pride burned, but her body betrayed her—arching into every rough stroke, heat pooling low in her belly. "You wish," she spat, though the tremble in her voice gave her away.

Lucien's hand slid up to her hair, wrapping the wild curls around his fist as he yanked her head back. "Admit it," he ordered, his pace relentless. "You love it when I use you like this."

Estella let out a broken moan, but her defiance held. "Is that all you've got?"

His answering growl sent heat flooding through her veins. "You're going to fucking regret that," he promised.

Without breaking his rhythm, he slipped a hand between her thighs, his fingers finding her clit and rubbing it with ruthless precision. "Come for me," he commanded, his voice rough with authority. "Come while I fuck you senseless."

The pleasure coiled tighter—too much, too fast—and gods, she hated how good he was at destroying her.

"You're mine," he growled, his mouth brushing her ear. "No one else touches you. No one else fucks you. Say it."

"Fuck. You," she panted, though her legs trembled violently beneath his touch.

Lucien chuckled darkly. "Sweetheart," he murmured, dragging his teeth down her neck, "you already are."

And with one final, devastating thrust, he sent her over the edge.

Her orgasm slammed through her like a storm—hot and overwhelming—dragging a broken scream from her lips as her body clamped down around him.

Lucien cursed, his rhythm faltering as he followed her into release, spilling deep inside her with a rough groan.

When it was over, neither of them moved.

For a long moment, the only sound was their ragged breathing—the weight of everything unsaid hanging heavy in the air.

Lucien leaned down, pressing a rough kiss to the nape of her neck. "Still think you're in charge?"

Estella laughed softly, tilting her head back to meet his gaze. "You call that your best?"

His smile turned feral. "Careful, little rebel," he warned, dragging her back against his chest. "I'm not done with you yet."

---

Meanwhile…

Valeria stood in the darkness, her fists clenched so tightly her nails cut into her palms.

The sound of Estella's moans still echoed through the corridor, stabbing into her pride like a blade.

But this wasn't over. Not by a long shot.

If Lucien wanted a rebellion—Valeria would give him one.

And when she was finished, Estella wouldn't just lose her place.

She'd lose everything.