Page 54 of Wicked Depths

I freeze.

Her lips brush my collarbone. “Not yet.”

Before I can snap a retort, she stretches, her naked body sliding against mine in a way that makes my breath catch, my restraint fraying like silk against fire. She lifts her head, blinking slowly, her white-blue gaze glowing in the dim light.

She smirks. “You look beautiful here, Dragon Queen.”

I scoff, shoving down the flicker of satisfaction her words stir in me.

Her fingers trail down my stomach, featherlight, teasing.

I narrow my gaze. "Vaela—"

"Easy, Dragon Queen..." she murmurs against my skin, lips trailing slow, deliberate kisses down my throat. Each touch is a whisper of silk and sin, unraveling me bit by bit. "Settle that fire of yours and just… let go."

I want to resist. I need to resist.

But when her teeth scrape the sensitive skin just beneath my jaw, I am already lost.

The scent of roasted meats, and fresh fruit lingers in the air before I fully register the knock at the chamber doors. The Sentinels enter soundlessly, their presence nothing more than a shift in the air as they place silver platters of food onto the ornate coral-carved table in the center of the room.

Vaela, still sprawled lazily beside me, watches them with a slow, knowing smirk.

“I do hope you all enjoyed the show last night,” she purrs, stretching her arms above her head, her bare skin gleaming with the remnants of our night together.

I roll my eyes, reaching for the silk robe draped over the bedpost and pulling it around me before standing.

The Sentinels say nothing, but their silence is enough.

Vaela hums in satisfaction.

The Sentinels bow their heads before vanishing back into the walls, leaving us alone once more.

I sit at the table, plucking a piece of dark fruit from the silver tray and biting into it, its juices bursting sweetly across my tongue.

Vaela doesn’t move right away, watching me with amusement. Then, with languid grace, she rises, walking toward me with nothing but her sheer robe slipping from her shoulders, her tentacles trailing lazily behind her.

She takes the seat across from me, reaching for a split lobster tail, its shell already cracked open to reveal the tender, butter-drenched meat inside. She lifts a piece with two fingers, inspecting it with feigned scrutiny before popping it between her lips.

I watch her, unimpressed.

She hums in approval, rolling her eyes in mock delight. “Mmm. Exquisite.” Then she tilts her head, giving me a slow, teasing smile. “You know, Dragon Queen, serving a guest a member of her own realm for lunch? Quite rude.” She sighs dramatically, shaking her head. “Truly, what ever happened to proper hospitality? Should I be worried you’ll serve me up next?”

I roll my eyes, lifting my goblet. “Careful,” I warn, taking a slow sip. “There may come a day when that sharp mouth of yours gets you into trouble, siren.”

Vaela smirks, dragging a piece of lobster through the melted butter before licking it from her fingers, deliberate and slow. Sheflicks her gaze back to me, mischief dancing in her pale blue eyes. "And you should learn when to take a joke, Dragon Queen.” She sinks her teeth into the succulent meat, chewing languidly as if savoring every bite, watching me from beneath thick silver lashes. “But I suppose humor is difficult for those who spend all their time brooding atop a throne.”

I arch a brow, setting my goblet down with a deliberate clink. “You mistake discipline for brooding.”

She waves a hand dismissively. “Call it what you want. It doesn’t change the fact that you’re about as much fun as a rock.”

I exhale sharply, drumming my fingers against the table. “Perhaps I would be more inclined toward humor if I didn’t have a kingdom to protect.”

Vaela leans forward, elbows resting lazily on the table. “And what do you think I’ve been doing all this time? Twirling my hair and waiting for you to come ravish me?” Her lips curl as she picks up another morsel of lobster, speaking between bites. “I’ve fought wars, Nyxara. I’ve protected my people. I’ve ruled my kingdom longer than you’ve been alive.” She flicks her gaze to mine, daring me to challenge her. “And I still find time to have a little fun.”

I hold her stare, unwilling to admit that I enjoy this game we play. That I enjoy the way she needles at me, prods at the cracks in my carefully composed exterior. But I do not answer.

Because she is right.

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