The morning sun filtered into the grand hall, casting golden rays on the lavish breakfast spread.

The king, a hulking figure with a mane of silver-streaked hair and a booming laugh, gestured for another round of mead.

Varek sat to his right, his armor traded for a simple tunic that did little to diminish his commanding presence. The other soldiers - the king's most trusted - sat around the table, laughing and toasting, their plates piled high with delicacies.

Varek forced himself to engage, answering the king's questions about the latest skirmish. His voice was steady, his words measured, but his thoughts drifted to the night before, to the way Nymeria had taken him with unrelenting confidence. The heat of her touch lingered on his skin, even now.

And then she entered.

Nymeria moved like a predator, her feline grace drawing every eye in the room as if she commanded the air itself. Her dress, a pale milk color, clung to her curves like a second skin, the thin cotton teasing the faint outline of her breasts.

The soft peaks of her nipples strained subtly against the fabric, visible only if one dared to look too closely.

And Varek dared.

His jaw tightened as he caught himself staring, his body betraying him with a surge of heat. Around the table, the soldiers fell silent, their laughter snuffed out as if stolen by her mere presence.

Even the king paused mid-sentence, his expression softening as Nymeria approached.

"Good morning, my king," she purred, her voice low and velvety as she leaned down to press a chaste kiss to his cheek.

"Nymeria, my love," the king greeted warmly, his voice carrying a pride that made Varek's stomach twist. She lowered herself into the seat beside him, every movement deliberate, poised, a silent declaration of her power.

The conversation resumed, but it was hollow, the air thick with tension. Varek's focus was no longer on the king's words. His eyes, against his better judgment, remained locked on Nymeria. She was an unrelenting torment, her beauty a weapon she wielded without mercy.

She picked up her goblet with slender fingers, her lips brushing the rim as she took a sip. And then, as if sensing his gaze, she turned her head ever so slightly. For the briefest moment, their eyes met.

Her expression was unreadable, save for the faintest curve of her lips - a subtle, knowing smile that sent a jolt of heat through him.

Varek's grip on his goblet tightened as he dragged his gaze back to his plate, his pulse thundering in his ears. The king spoke again, laughing about some trivial matter, but Varek didn't hear it.

All he could think about was the way her body had felt beneath his hands, the way her voice had sounded as she whispered his name.

And now, she sat across from him, radiant and untouchable, her presence a cruel reminder of the line he had crossed - and the fire he couldn't extinguish.

The city streets buzzed with activity as Varek and the other soldiers patrolled, their presence a silent reminder of the kingdom's strength. Children darted between market stalls, merchants called out their wares, and the distant clang of a blacksmith's hammer echoed through the air.

Varek moved with practiced ease, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword as he scanned the bustling crowd. His comrades joked and exchanged idle chatter, but his mind was elsewhere - still lingering on the queen, on the fleeting glance she had spared him at breakfast, and the torment it had stirred.

Then he saw her.

At the edge of the kingdom, where the cobbled streets gave way to dirt paths and rolling hills, she appeared like an apparition. Queen Nymeria, with her flowing dress and a basket nestled in the crook of her arm, walked with a purpose that sent a jolt of confusion and curiosity through him. What was she doing here, so far from the castle?

Without a word, Varek slowed his pace, allowing his comrades to move ahead. His instincts - honed through years on the battlefield - told him this was unusual, possibly dangerous. He slipped away from the group, his steps quiet and deliberate as he followed her at a distance.

Nymeria led him to a clearing, hidden by towering trees and dense foliage. The air was cool and sweet, alive with the sound of birdsong and the gentle rush of water. Before him lay a vision - an ethereal pool fed by a cascading waterfall, the water shimmering like liquid crystal under the dappled sunlight. Lush greenery framed the scene, and vibrant flowers added bursts of color, their scent heady and intoxicating.

At the water's edge stood Nymeria, her basket set beside her. She turned, her eyes meeting his with a knowing glint, and then, with maddening grace, she let her dress slip from her shoulders. It pooled at her feet, revealing the perfection of her body - smooth, golden skin, the curve of her hips, the swell of her breasts.

Varek's breath hitched, and he cursed himself for the way his body betrayed him, heat pooling low in his abdomen.

"Not very gentlemanly of you to stare, Varek," she teased, her voice a melody of mockery and seduction.

She stepped into the water, her movements unhurried, her back to him as she waded deeper.

The ripples lapped at her thighs, then her waist, until only her shoulders and head remained visible.

"You shouldn't be here," he said, his voice tight as he tried - and failed - to keep his thoughts pure.

"It's not safe."

She turned her head slightly, a smile playing on her lips. "And why would you question your queen, hmm? Or better yet, why are you following me?"

Her teasing tone set his nerves ablaze, and he struggled to focus on anything other than the water clinging to her skin, the way it glistened in the sunlight.

Then, she gasped, her arms flailing as she sank beneath the surface. Panic shot through him, and he didn't hesitate. Stripping off his boots and tunic, he dove into the pool, the cold water shocking his system as he searched for her.

"Nymeria!" he called, his heart pounding. But she was nowhere to be found.

Her laughter rang out, light and lilting, and he turned to see her standing at the far edge of the pool, her arms crossed over her chest.

"Is that how much you care about me?" she teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

He swam toward her, his frustration mounting, but she stepped out of the water before he could reach her. Droplets slid down her body, tracing every curve as she wrung out her hair. His eyes betrayed him again, drinking in the sight of her slender back, the gentle slope of her shoulders, the dip of her spine, and the perfect curve of her hips.

She picked up her dress, holding it in one hand as she turned to face him. "You could take me right here," she mused, her tone light, almost playful.

"Against that tree. Wouldn't that be something?"

The words ignited something primal in him. He stepped out of the water, his gaze locked on hers.

When she dropped the dress once more and approached him, her lips curved in a wicked smile, he couldn't hold back any longer.

He seized her, his hands sliding to her waist as he crushed his mouth to hers. The kiss was fiery, desperate, his hands roaming over her wet skin, down to her ass, pulling her against him. She responded with equal fervor, her nails raking down his chest as she lowered herself to her knees before him.

With practiced ease, she tugged at his waistband, freeing him. His length sprang forward, and she glanced up at him, her eyes alight with challenge.

Her tongue flicked against his tip, eliciting a deep groan from his chest. Slowly, she took him into her mouth, her movements deliberate and torturous.

Her tongue swirled, her lips tight around him as she worked him closer and closer to release.

When he couldn't take it anymore, he pulled her to her feet and spun her around, pressing her back against the rough bark of the tree. He was ready to claim her again, his body throbbing with need.

But before he could, she shoved him back with surprising strength. He stumbled, landing on the soft grass, stunned.

Nymeria stood above him, her expression unreadable as she retrieved her dress and slipped it over her head.

"All you men are the same," she said, her voice cool and detached. "Simple things."

With her basket in hand, she turned and walked away, leaving him there, chest heaving, his body still burning for her.