The heavy, reinforced doors of the Queen's private sanctuary swung inward with a muted thud, instantly locking out the roaring festival of the kingdom. The sudden isolation was intoxicating. Before the latches could even settle, all pretenses of royal decorum completely evaporated.
They collided in the dim light. Their kiss was immediate and ravenous, an untamed clash of desires where their tongues intertwined like chaotic tides crashing against a jagged shore.
With a sharp, breathless gasp, Seravine placed her hands against his chest, pushing him back just enough to break the contact. A coquettish, knowing smile played on her lips as she stepped backward, her hips swaying with a deliberate grace as she retreated toward the massive arched window. Her sharp gaze never left his eyes, binding him to her with a look that promised absolute submission—or absolute control.
