Lion Roch was a problem the universe had not asked permission to create.
He didn’t move like the others—measured, reverent, careful. Lion moved like consequence. Like a man who had never once mistaken restraint for virtue.
And that was precisely why Ra should not be standing alone with him.
The corridor outside the eastern balcony was colder, quieter, the kind of place secrets went to breathe. Moonlight spilled across stone. Somewhere distant, laughter from the hall tried to pretend the night was ordinary.
It wasn’t.
Lion leaned against the archway like he belonged there, dark coat open, posture loose, eyes too sharp. Reckless Ambassador. Exiled from prophecy. Half-brother to a god who believed inevitability was a personality trait.
Ra’s pulse did something humiliating.
“You’re avoiding the party,” Lion said, voice edged with amusement.
“I’m avoiding you.”
His smile was immediate. Dangerous.
“Liar.”
Ra’s chin lifted. “Confident.”
“Accurate,” he corrected, stepping closer with the casual audacity of someone who didn’t believe in sacred distance.
Ra held her ground.
“You shouldn’t be here,” she said.
Lion’s gaze flicked over her—gold breastplate, burgundy braids, the calm war in her posture.
“I could say the same,” he murmured.
She exhaled sharply. “I’m married.”
Lion’s eyes darkened, not with apology—never with apology.
“To Mehen,” he said, like the name tasted like politics. “Yes. The Serpent God who kicked me out of the Prophecy of Shars so he could secure you like a trophy.”
Ra’s jaw tightened.
“I am not a trophy.”
Lion’s voice dropped, suddenly serious.
“I know.”
That landed harder than it should have.
Silence stretched between them, thick with everything neither of them had permission to want.
Ra turned slightly, staring out at the night beyond the balcony, forcing her voice into steadiness.
“You hate him.”
Lion’s laugh was low.
“Hate is a strong word.”
“You’re not subtle.”
“I’m not interested in subtle.”
Ra glanced back at him, eyes sharp.
“And what are you interested in, Ambassador?”
Lion pushed off the archway.
The space between them shrank.
He didn’t touch her. Not yet. But his presence felt like a hand hovering over flame.
“I’m interested,” he said softly, “in the fact that you feel more alive when you’re resisting.”
Ra’s breath caught—traitorous.
“That’s not—”
“It is,” Lion cut in, voice calm, almost gentle. “You stand there like discipline is armor. Like wanting is weakness.”
Ra’s voice came out quieter.
“Wanting is dangerous.”
Lion’s smile returned, all teeth and heat.
“Finally. Honesty.”
Ra’s pulse hammered.
“You don’t get to talk to me about honesty.”
Lion tilted his head.
“Why? Because your husband is a god?”
The word husband felt heavy in her chest.
“Because my husband is watching,” she whispered.
Lion’s eyes flicked toward the shadows as if daring them to move.
“Let him.”
Ra stiffened. “Don’t.”
Lion stepped closer again, stopping just short of contact, his voice dropping into something wickedly intimate.
“Do you know what the cruelest part is, Ra?”
Her name in his mouth sounded like a sin.
Ra forced herself not to lean in.
Lion’s gaze fell briefly to her lips.
“That you don’t look at him the way you look at the edge.”
Ra’s throat tightened.
“I don’t look at you at all.”
Lion’s smile was slow.
“Another lie.”
Ra’s hands curled at her sides.
“Lion—”
“Tell me to stop,” he murmured.
Ra froze.
The air was electric, every instinct screaming at her to retreat, to return to the hall, to her vows, to sanity.
But Lion didn’t move.
He waited.
Not like Mehen waited—inevitable, arrogant.
Lion waited like a man who understood that consent was the only kind of power worth having.
Ra’s voice trembled with anger she didn’t fully trust.
“You’re reckless.”
“I’m honest.”
“You’re dangerous.”
“I’m not the one married to a god,” he said, voice sharp with something almost like pain.
Ra’s breath stuttered.
Lion’s hand lifted—slowly—hovering near her waist without touching.
“Do you know what it does to a man,” he murmured, “to watch you pretend you’re untouched when your whole body is a dare?”
Ra’s eyes flashed.
“You don’t know my body.”
Lion’s gaze burned.
“I know restraint when I see it.”
He leaned in, close enough that Ra could feel his breath, warm against the night.
Close enough that the next inch would be a disaster.
Ra’s lips parted despite herself.
The moment stretched—knife-thin.
Lion’s voice was velvet.
“Say no.”
Ra could.
She should.
Instead, she whispered, broken and furious—
“This is wrong.”
Lion’s smile was barely there.
“Wrong isn’t the same as unwanted.”
Ra’s eyes shut for half a second, a surrender so small it wasn’t even surrender.
Lion’s mouth brushed hers—barely, barely—more question than claim.
A kiss that wasn’t a kiss.
A spark, not a fire.
Ra jerked back like she’d been burned.
Her breath came unevenly.
Lion didn’t chase.
He only watched her, eyes dark, jaw tight, like restraint was costing him blood.
“I won’t ruin you,” he said quietly.
Ra’s voice cracked.
“You already are.”
Footsteps echoed faintly behind them.
The world returned.
Ra stepped away, pulse screaming, mind spinning.
Lion’s voice followed her, low and dangerous.
“This isn’t over.”
Ra didn’t look back.
Because if she did—
She wasn’t sure she’d keep walking.