Seti's fingers traced idle patterns along Laila's arm. The fire cast shifting shadows over his bare chest, his tunic loosened, forgotten in the haze of wine and recklessness.
Laila leaned closer, her lips brushing the edge of his jaw as she whispered, "Are you always this easy?"
Seti let out a low chuckle, tilting his head back.
"Oh, princess," he mused, grinning down at her, "if you think this is easy, you have no idea what you're doing."
Her fingers grazed over his collarbone, her breath hot against his skin.
"I think," she purred, teasing, "you've wanted me from the start."
Seti's hands tightened around her waist, pulling her flush against him.
"You sound very sure of yourself."
Laila smirked, tilting her head up, their lips a breath apart.
"Aren't I right?"
His eyes darkened, but there was laughter there, too.
"You're insufferable."
She grinned. "I know."
Seti's knuckles brushed her cheek, softer than she expected.
"Tell me you want this," he murmured. "Say it, and I'm yours."
Laila's pulse jumped.
And for a brief, dangerous moment, she almost said it.
But then—reality slammed into her.
Her father's letter.
The command to kill.
The way everything about this place was temporary, no matter how much she tried to pretend otherwise.
If she let this happen, if she let herself get lost in the way Seti touched her, the way he looked at her like she was more than just a bargaining piece, then she would be truly lost.
And she couldn't afford that.
Not here. Not now.
So she pulled back.
Seti sighed, mock disappointment in his tone.
"I knew you weren't that drunk."
Laila exhaled a soft laugh, grateful that he didn't press.
Seti leaned back, propping himself on one arm.
"I'll tell you what," he said, eyes still on her. "I'll wait. And when you're sober, we'll see if you're still as eager to have your hands on me."
Laila rolled her eyes. "Don't hold your breath."
He smirked. "Oh, I won't."
She was about to throw back another witty remark when—
The tent flap burst open.
And suddenly—the warmth, the tension, the moment—was gone.
The lamplight flickered as Khepri stepped inside. His usually neat robes were askew, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. Before Laila could say a word, he grabbed her arm.