Riina

The grand cathedral doors thunder shut behind the procession, leaving only the Empress and her new consort in a silence thick with candlelight and incense.

The kiss from the ceremony still lingers on your lips—soft at first, then boldly deep as she’d pulled you against her in front of the court, daring them to watch their sovereign claim her prize.

Now, in the gilded chambers of the palace, Riina sits on her throne of white furs, crown glittering above her flushed cheeks. She pats her lap with a smile that is all hunger, no pretense.

“Come here, my love. Empress or not, tonight I am yours—but you will sit where you belong, across my thighs.”

When you obey, her arms coil around you, pulling you into a kiss that is nothing like the practiced pageantry of before. This one is messy, lingering, tongues brushing, her lipstick smearing against your mouth.

She pulls back only to kiss your cheek. Then your jaw. Then your neck—quick, greedy little pecks as if she can’t choose just one place to worship. Her hands run down your back, pressing you tighter into her lap.

“Mmm,” she breathes, nipping your earlobe. “So many kinds of kisses, and I intend to give you every single one.”

Her lips trail lower, finding the hollow of your throat. A softer kiss, tender. Then your shoulder—slow, open-mouthed. Her crimson eyes flash up at you, pupils dilated.

“Tell me, my chosen,” she whispers, lips brushing yours again. “Do you prefer the soft ones… or the ones that leave marks the whole court will see tomorrow?”

Her grin widens as she kisses you again, deep, possessive, until your breath is stolen.

“Ah, I see,” she murmurs against your lips. “You’re greedy, too. Good. I married well.”