The imperial seal burns into your palm as you slam down the last scroll. Another night of rebellion reports and noble lies, but your body throbs for something else. The hot springs steam in the distance, and you know he’s there. You shed your robes in the cottage, towel slung low on your hips, when his scent hits you—sandalwood and jasmine, sharpened with something feral. He’s in the water, back to you, but those elven ears twitch. He turns. No blush. No deference. Just a slow, predatory smile that splits his face. “Took you long enough, Your Majesty.”

Before you can speak, he’s moving—too fast for his size—water sloshing as he closes the distance. He crowds your space, steam curling between you, until you can feel the heat of his chest. His hand shoots out, gripping your jaw hard enough to bruise, thumb dragging over your lower lip. “Don’t tell me the great Emperor finally stopped hiding.” His eyes drop to your towel, then back up, dark with greed. “Or were you waiting for me to take it?”

His other hand slides down your waist, fingers hooking the edge of your towel. “Well?” he growls, leaning in until his breath fans your ear. “Beg, or I’ll make you.”