A CROWN OF THORNS AND DEFIANCE

The only sound in Lucien's chambers was the rough slap of skin against skin—the sound of ownership. Of a war neither of them would ever admit they were losing.

Lucien's mouth was everywhere—biting, kissing, marking—as if he wanted to burn himself into her very bones. His thrusts were brutal, relentless, dragging pleasure from her body in waves that left her gasping for breath.

"You're mine," he growled against her throat, his hands gripping her hips hard enough to leave bruises. "Say it, Estella."

She clenched around him, refusing to give him the satisfaction of obedience. "You wish, Your Majesty," she hissed, her nails raking down his back.

Lucien laughed darkly—a sound that sent fire curling low in her belly. "Still defiant," he mused, dragging his teeth along her jaw. "But your body tells a different story, little rebel. You're soaked for me."

Estella wanted to spit a curse at him—wanted to rip herself away from his touch—but gods, the way he fucked her. The force of it. The depth. It was sinful. Addictive.

And worse—he knew it.

"Face it," he murmured, driving into her harder, deeper, until her head spun. "No one else can handle you like I do."

Her laugh was breathless, wicked. "Handle me?" she panted. "Please. I've had rougher brushes with death."

Lucien's silver eyes burned as he pulled out and flipped her over in one swift motion. She barely had time to catch her breath before he pushed back inside her—his cock stretching her all over again.

"You've got a smart mouth," he growled, his hand fisting her hair to pull her head back. "And I should punish you for every filthy word you spit at me."

"Do it," she taunted, her voice trembling with a mix of defiance and desire. "Or are you all talk?"

A dangerous smile curled his lips. "You're going to regret that."

And gods—he meant it.

He snapped his hips forward in a punishing rhythm, each thrust rougher than the last, sending sparks of pleasure and pain shuddering through her. His free hand slid between her legs, fingers finding her clit and working her with ruthless precision.

"You're going to come for me again," he commanded, his voice rough with need. "And when you do, you'll remember exactly who you belong to."

Her body trembled—on the edge, too close, too far gone. "Fuck you," she spat, even as her vision blurred with pleasure.

Lucien's laugh was cruel, possessive. "You already are, sweetheart."

And when her release crashed over her—hot and devastating—he held her through it, his grip unforgiving as he chased his own pleasure. With one last, bruising thrust, he spilled inside her, his groan vibrating against her skin.

For a long moment, the world was nothing but their ragged breaths, the heat still curling between them like fire and smoke.

Lucien leaned down, brushing his mouth over her ear. "Still not impressed?"

Estella, despite the tremor in her limbs, tilted her head back to meet his gaze. "You talk too much," she said sweetly. "But I'm still standing."

His laughter was soft—dangerous. "Not for long."

Meanwhile…

Valeria's nails scraped against the polished wood of the palace railing as she stood on the balcony, watching the distant lights flicker in Lucien's wing. Her face was a perfect mask of calm—but beneath it, rage boiled hot and sharp.

That girl.

That insolent, wild-mouthed bitch.

Lucien had never let another woman challenge him like this. Never let anyone speak to him the way Estella did. And yet, instead of crushing her under his heel—he was obsessed.

Grace's laughter broke the silence. "Careful, Val," she purred, stepping out of the shadows. "You're going to grind your teeth to dust if you keep glaring like that."

Valeria didn't turn. "You seem awfully entertained," she said coldly.

Grace shrugged, her smile sharp as a knife. "I enjoy watching people burn. And darling—you're about to catch fire."

Valeria finally faced her, her expression smooth as glass. "Don't mistake amusement for power, Grace," she said softly. "Lucien fucks her now—but he comes to me when he wants control."

Grace tilted her head, the gleam in her eyes pure malice. "Is that why he hasn't touched you in weeks?"

The words hit their mark—but Valeria's mask didn't slip. Not yet.

"If you think she's won," Valeria said quietly, stepping closer, "then you're more foolish than I thought. She's reckless. Untrained. Easy to break."

Grace smirked. "Then break her."

Valeria's smile didn't reach her eyes. "I will."

And when Estella fell—she would make sure there was nothing left of her to pick up.

The Next Morning…

Estella woke to the faint golden light creeping through Lucien's chambers, her body aching deliciously from the night before.

Lucien lay beside her, still asleep, his face relaxed in a way it never was during the day. His hair was tousled, his skin warm beneath the sheets. And gods, if she didn't hate how beautiful he looked.

He's still a bastard, she reminded herself.

Carefully, she slipped out of bed, biting back a wince as the soreness between her thighs flared. She wasn't about to let anyone see how thoroughly the emperor had fucked her.

She had barely finished tying her robe when the door to his chamber swung open.

Valeria.

Of course.

The concubine stood there, draped in black silk, her expression carefully composed—but her eyes blazed with barely hidden fury.

"You're still here," Valeria said smoothly, as if she were commenting on the weather.

Estella smiled. Sharp. Dangerous. "What can I say? Your Majesty seems to enjoy my company."

Valeria's lips curved into a cold smile. "Enjoy it while it lasts," she murmured, stepping closer. "Because sooner or later—he always loses interest."

Estella arched a brow. "Is that what happened to you?"

The slap came fast—sharp and stinging against her cheek.

But instead of shrinking back, Estella laughed softly, tasting blood in her mouth. "You hit like a pampered bitch," she drawled, wiping her lip. "Is that the best you've got?"

Valeria's mask cracked, fury flashing in her eyes. "You think you're untouchable?" she hissed.

"I know I am," Estella spat, stepping into her space. "And if you touch me again, I'll make you choke on your own teeth."

Before Valeria could respond, another voice cut through the tension.

"What's going on here?"

Lucien.

He stood in the doorway, his silver eyes flicking between the two women—and when his gaze landed on the red mark blooming across Estella's cheek, his face darkened with something lethal.

Valeria's expression softened immediately. "I was just—"

"You were just leaving," Lucien said coldly, his tone brooking no argument.

Valeria hesitated, but the ice in his gaze sent her sweeping from the room.

As the door closed behind her, Lucien turned back to Estella. "Are you hurt?"

Estella smirked, brushing past him. "Please," she drawled. "I've taken worse hits from my stepmother."

And as she left him standing there—half amused, half enraged—she couldn't help but wonder…

Just how far could she push him before he broke?