They walked in near silence to the large parlor room, where they found several servants preparing tables for cards. Searching the ballroom, he only spotted two women with reddish-pink hair, who were setting up fresh candles. "Those are the only women who fit the description here."

Lucy looked over to the direction he nodded in, narrowing her eyes at the younger woman, she pursed her lips. "I think I recognize her."

Without offering an explanation, she walked towards the maids, her heels clicking against the ballroom floor.

"You," she called out.

The young maid looked startled, almost dropping the candles. "M–me?"

Sting allowed Lucy to take the reins in the interrogation, as he could smell fear coming from the maid, as well as the scent of guilt.

"Your name is Delphie right?" She nodded, her eyes shifting to him ever slightly before going back to the blonde. "We've heard that you have been questioning about the noble's room, especially Lady Morgana's room right before she was murdered."

The young woman didn't even look surprised at hearing the news, only she smiled, her fear and guilt disappearing almost immediately. Sting furrowed his eyebrows. Something about her was off and he didn't like it.

"So the bitch is dead," she grinned.

Lucy scoffed, "Of course. I should have seen it."

Sting, confused, didn't know what was going on. Still he kept his mouth shut, allowing Lucy to handle it as this world was her element.

"You're the rumored Duke's mistress," she stated, a veil of indifference covering her face. "He must have taken some interest in Lady Morgana, and you grew jealous."

The woman's lips turned into a snarl, "I have been his loyal mistress for the past eight years! He took interest in her a few months ago, claiming he needed a new change of pace!" She snapped, the candles in her hands breaking under her tight grip.

"Did you kill her? Was that message in blood for him then?"

She snorted, "I admit to looking for her chambers, but I didn't kill the bitch. I never got alone with her since her majesty has kept her in council meetings since she has been here."

From what he could tell, Sting could tell that she was telling the truth. Which meant that she wasn't behind the murder, she was nothing more than just a scorned lover.

"Where were you then during the time of the murder?"

She smiled sardonically, "in Cedric's bed with his cum dripping out of me."

Sting kept his composure. However, he could smell the disgust and judgment from Lucy, but her face didn't show how she truly felt. Instead, she blinked at the woman.

"Do you know anyone else who could have had a vendetta against her?"

Delphie hummed, "not really, other than me, she mostly kept to herself since her Father's death a few years ago."

"How long have you been going by Delphie?" She paused, "last time I saw you, your name had been Georgiana."

The woman stiffened, holding her chin up high, she sniffed. "That name means nothing to me, I am Delphie now."

Lucy narrowed her eyes, "how did you go from being a high lady to a servant who sleeps with the Duke?"

She clenched her jaw, "it is none of your business Lucilliá." Taking a deep breath, she smiled. "If you have any more questions, please go bother somebody else."

"I can't believe that you would lower yourself like this," Lucy stated nonchalantly. "Shame too since you had so many prospects and now you have nothing."

The woman flared her nostrils, anger evident. "You have been gone for a long time. You know nothing about what has taken place here since you left." She snapped, "I made choices in order to ensure my safety, even going as far as cutting off ties to my old life. You wouldn't understand what it means to sacrifice. I have something beautiful with Cedric." Her hand went to her stomach, causing him to furrowed his eyebrows.

Once again, from what he could tell, she was telling the truth. Sting cursed silently, wondering if perhaps her death was one of convenience and not a personal matter. Which made sense since the message was to Lilithe and not Duke Cedric. Her rant was filled with truth, which was a bit worrying.

Lucy clicked her tongue, "thank you for cooperating."

Turning from the maid, she began to walk away. Sting quickly followed her out of the ballroom and out into the corridor. Knowing that she wouldn't speak until she was sure they were alone, he followed her towards the wing they stayed in and into her room. He watched as she checked the rune protecting her room and put up a barrier as well.

"That woman, Delphie, claimed that she has been sleeping with the Duke for eight years but that is impossible."

Sting furrowed his eyebrows.

"How so?"

Lucy began to pace the room, her dress trailing behind her. "When we went over the staff list, her name had been on it, however there is a discrepancy in her profile."

"Discrepancy how?"

Snapping her fingers, Virgo popped inside the room in a cloud of gold sparkles. A file in her hands, bowing she handed it to Sting, bowed again and disappeared. Opening the file, he took his seat on the couch and began to flip through the papers. Upon coming onto her file, he scanned over it slowly, only to stop.

His blood went cold.

Delphie was only twenty years old. Which meant that if she had been servicing him for eight years as his mistress, she was only twelve when she started. Grimacing, he analyzed her profile before he stopped again.

"It says here that she only started working as a maid four years ago but had a year leave for family matters."

"Duke Cedric got her pregnant," Lucy waved her hand. "She took time away to have the baby in secret. Which just reiterates the fact that she is hiding something else."

Sting hummed, "she wasn't lying. I would have smelt it."

Lucy clicked her tongue, "the only thing I don't understand is the fact that she is sleeping with someone else."

"Where did you get that from?"

Walking to the cart, she poured tea into two different teacups. Handing one to Sting, she took her seat in front of the file that Sting had thrown onto the table.

"Mistresses aren't just used for pleasure," Lucy began. "They tend to be sleeping with at least two different men, as they also act as a way for men to exchange vital information without there being a paper trail, so if they get caught, there won't be any evidence."

"Then the question we should be asking is," Sting paused, taking a sip of his tea. "Who is Duke Cedric messaging with?"

Lucy snapped her fingers again, Virgo handed her another file, bowed and disappeared in a puff of smoke and golden sparkles. They both breathed a heavy sigh and began to dig through the file.


"You are tired," Rogue stated.

He had been watching her all morning as she worked tirelessly in her office. She hadn't slept last night, she had stayed up all night in front of the fire, staring at it without breathing a word to him. Rogue wondered if her wolves were accustomed to the behavior as they seemed to know how to comfort her.

Rogue felt useless.

How would one comfort their mate over the murder of a courtier? Rogue didn't know what to do. Was he supposed to comfort her like a good mate? Or did she want to be left alone?

Lucy had made mention to him that she was a quiet girl, that she hardly spoke and often kept to herself. Bastien had said something similar when he had spoke to him.

Since Sting took over as Guild Master, he was inspired by Fairy Tail's morals and the code they lived by. How they all live for each other, for their family. Sting had reformed Sabertooth to follow those same ideals. Rogue had taken the time to develop better socialization skills as he had been told by others that his people skills weren't all that great.

Comfort her you dumbass

What if she needs space?

Women are fickle creatures but this one is different. You know that, don't you?

What am I supposed to do?

For one, don't be a dumbass. Secondly, just talk to her.

I'll try

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Lilithe turned to Rogue, her movements deliberate and measured. She took a deep breath, as if preparing herself for what she was about to say, then carefully set the papers she had been holding down on her desk. Rogue noticed the tension in her posture, the way her shoulders straightened, and how her back stiffened as she finally faced him. The smile she offered him was tight, almost forced, and it made his stomach twist with unease.

"I wouldn't want to bore you with political matters," she laughed lightly, though there was no real humor in it.

Rogue shook his head, his gaze softening. "I won't push you to tell me anything," he said gently, taking a step closer. "But I am here to listen when you're ready to talk."

Good job on not screwing up, his dragon chuckled, trying to ignore the nagging inner dragon in the back of his mind that always seemed ready to criticize his every move and laugh at him.

Shut up and go back to your cage, he mentally responded to the voice, pushing it down as he focused entirely on Lilithe.

"If anything, I need a distraction," Lilithe sighed, her voice tinged with weariness.

Rogue watched her closely, noticing the subtle change in her demeanor as her eyes traveled to meet his. There was something vulnerable in her gaze, a half-lidded look of longing that sent a shiver down his spine. Her lips parted slightly, and Rogue's heightened senses picked up on the faint scent of her arousal. It was intoxicating, making his pulse quicken as desire surged within him.

Unable to resist, Rogue moved behind the desk, lent down, his lips finding the delicate curve of her neck. He pressed featherlight kisses along her skin, each touch eliciting a soft gasp from her. He could feel her squirm beneath him, her breath hitching with every tender caress, and it took every ounce of his self-control not to lose himself entirely in the moment.

In that instant, with Lilithe so vulnerable and open beneath him, Rogue's resolve wavered. He wanted to claim her, to let go of all restraint and surrender to the passion that simmered between them. But he knew better. He knew that patience was key, that rushing into something too soon could shatter the trust they had already built.

With a gentle kiss pressed to her forehead, Rogue reluctantly pulled back, his heart aching with the effort it took to withdraw. Every fiber of his being wanted to stay close to her, to protect her from the dangers that lurked in the shadows, but he knew that she needed rest.

"You should rest," Rogue said softly, his voice laced with concern as he took her face into his right hand, his thumb brushing gently against her cheek.

Lilithe looked up at him, her eyes soft and trusting. "Okay," she whispered, her voice barely audible as she nodded in agreement.

Rogue offered her a small, reassuring smile before he turned away, guiding her out of the office and into the dimly lit hallway. The tension in the air was palpable, the events of the night weighing heavily on both of them, but Rogue's focus remained on ensuring her safety.

Lilithe followed him silently, her footsteps echoing softly against the marble floors as they made their way to her chambers. The corridors were deserted, an eerie silence enveloping the castle, broken only by the distant hum of the night's activity.

As they approached the door to her chambers, Rogue hesitated for a moment, his hand resting on the door handle. He turned to her, his gaze meeting hers with a mixture of worry and something deeper, something unspoken.

"Lilithe," he began, his voice barely above a whisper. "If you need anything—anything at all—I'm right here. Don't hesitate to call for me."

She nodded again, her expression softening as she reached out and placed her hand on top of his. "Thank you, Rogue. For everything."

He offered her a nod, his grip on the door handle tightening momentarily before he pushed the door open. The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of the moonlight filtering through the curtains, casting gentle shadows across the floor.

His gaze lingered on her as she settled into the bed, her eyes fluttering closed as she began to drift into sleep.

"Stay," her voice was a soft, almost inaudible plea, but it echoed in the quiet of the room, tugging at his heartstrings.

"I'll stay," Rogue promised softly, his voice barely more than a whisper. "But only if you go to sleep."

He leaned down once more, pressing one final tender kiss to her forehead before carefully pulling the silk-white sheets over her. The weight of unspoken promises and untold desires hung heavily in the air, but Rogue knew that this was not the time to act on them. Instead, he focused on the present, on ensuring that Lilithe found peace and rest, even if only for a few hours.

Rogue watched her for a few moments, ensuring she was truly asleep before he turned to the small table beside her bed. Earlier, he had given her a sleep tea that Marian had prepared, a blend of calming herbs meant to help ease her mind and body into a restful state. The tea had done its job, and now Lilithe was sleeping soundly, her breathing deep and even.

Frosh, his small Exceed had become a cherished companion to Lilithe, was curled up beside her, nestled in her arms, emitting soft snores that added a touch of warmth to the otherwise tense atmosphere. Seeing the two of them like this brought a small smile to Rogue's face. He was grateful that Frosh had taken to Lilithe so quickly, and that the Exceed seemed to bring her comfort in a way that few others could.

With a sigh, Rogue ran a hand through his dark hair, the weight of the past couple of days's events pressing down on him. He moved to the couch at the far end of the room and sat down, his thoughts a whirlwind of worry and determination. Sting and Lucy were out investigating the murder from last night.

Rogue couldn't shake the feeling of unease that had settled in his gut. The message scrawled on the wall in blood—"You're next, your highness"—had been meant for Lilithe. Whoever was behind the killings was growing impatient, and they were willing to use innocents to achieve their goal. It was a chilling thought, one that made Rogue's protective instincts flare up.

Glancing over at Lilithe once more, he felt a surge of emotion—something more than just duty or concern. There was a fierce protectiveness there, a need to keep her safe, not just because of his responsibilities as her guard, but because she was his pretty mate.


In the dimly lit depths of the catacombs, the air was thick with the scent of damp stone and the echoes of distant footsteps. Lilithe, Lucy, and Emmaline, no more than ten years old and eight years old, ventured deeper into the labyrinthine passages, their childish curiosity driving them forward despite the eerie atmosphere.

Emmaline, always the bravest of the trio, led the way, her eyes wide with excitement as she held up a small, flickering lantern. The light cast long shadows on the walls, making the ancient carvings seem to come alive. Lucy, holding Lilithe's hand tightly, followed close behind, her heart racing with both fear and thrill.

"I can't believe we're actually down here," Lucy whispered, her voice trembling slightly as she glanced around nervously.

"Are you sure this is a good idea, Emma?" Lilithe asked, her voice quivering as she tried to keep up with the others. She was the most cautious of the group, but she couldn't resist the adventure.

"Of course it is!" Emmaline replied with a grin, turning back to her friends. "Just think of the stories we'll have to tell after this! Besides, we're perfectly safe. Father said the catacombs are just old tunnels, nothing dangerous."

"Why not seal them up?" Lucy asked with a frown

"It's for emergencies," Lilithe answered. "Father said that it is in case of an attack on the royal family, that we can come through here and be able to escape."

The three girls continued their exploration, their footsteps echoing off the stone walls. The further they ventured, the more their imagination began to play tricks on them. Every creak, every gust of wind seemed to be filled with hidden dangers.

Suddenly, the flickering light of Emma's lantern cast a strange shadow on the wall, and the girls froze in their tracks. The shadow seemed to shift and grow, taking on a menacing form.

"Did you see that?" Lucy gasped, her grip on Lilithe's hand tightening.

"W-What is it?" Lilithe stammered, her eyes wide with fear.

Before Emmaline could respond, a loud, echoing clang reverberated through the catacombs, causing all three girls to jump in fright. They huddled together, their hearts pounding in their chests as they tried to make sense of what they had just heard.

Just as Lilithe was about to take a cautious step forward, the air around them grew suddenly colder, and from the shadows emerged two dark figures, cloaked in the darkness of the catacombs.

A pair of gleaming eyes appeared, and then another, followed by the sound of heavy footsteps approaching rapidly. The figures loomed closer, their forms becoming more distinct in the dim light, until—

"Boo!" a voice shouted, breaking the tense silence.

Lilithe, Lucy, and Emmaline screamed in unison, their terrified voices echoing through the catacombs as they scrambled backward. The lantern flickered violently, casting erratic shadows on the walls as the girls stumbled over each other in their panic.

But the screams of terror quickly turned into shrieks of laughter when the two figures stepped fully into the light, revealing none other than Bastien and Mephisto, their mischievous grins wide with triumph.

"Bastien! Mephisto!" Lilithe yelled, clutching her chest as she tried to catch her breath. "You scared us half to death!"

Bastien, a few years older and already showing signs of the tall, imposing figure he would grow into, chuckled. "That was the point," he said, trying to suppress his own laughter. "You should have seen your faces!"

Mephisto, grinning from ear to ear, added, "We've been planning this all day! We knew you'd come exploring down here eventually."

Lucy's initial shock had worn off, and she crossed her arms, trying to look stern. "That wasn't funny! We thought you were ghosts!"

Emmaline, still clinging to Lucy, giggled despite herself. "I think I almost fainted!"

Lilithe, her fear now replaced with amusement, shook her head. "You two are the worst! But I guess it was a good scare."

Bastien and Mephisto exchanged a victorious look, proud of their successful prank. "Come on," Bastien said, stepping forward and offering his hand to help Lilithe up. "We'll take you out of here before you get lost for real."

The group of five made their way back through the winding catacombs, the earlier tension completely dissolved as they joked and teased each other. The catacombs, once filled with eerie silence, now echoed with the sounds of their laughter.

As they emerged into the light of the castle above, Emmaline turned to Bastien and Mephisto with a glare. "Next time, we're the ones who'll do the scaring. Just you wait."

"Indubitely," Lilith frowned.

Bastien smirked, ruffling Lilithe's hair. "We'll see about that, princess. We're always one step ahead."

Mephisto grinned. "But you have to admit, it was a good prank."


Lady Jessamine had been a great ally to Lucy, guiding her as she slipped back into the intricate web of courtly life. With Jessamine's help, Lucy had learned to sprinkle just the right amount of gossip, allowing her to blend seamlessly with the other courtiers. She was well aware that her name and title had opened doors, but it was her quick wit and charm that kept those doors wide open.

As she mingled, Lucy overheard the hushed conversation of two women nearby. They were whispering excitedly, their voices barely audible over the general murmur of the room. Sensing an opportunity, Lucy put on a practiced smile and turned to them, her curiosity piqued.

"Was that really Lord Bastien speaking with our Queen?" one of the women, dressed in a deep blue gown, asked, her tone laced with intrigue.

The other woman, clad in a matching gold gown, snorted dismissively. "Engagement? Please. Lord Bastien is the most eligible bachelor in the kingdom. Our Queen wouldn't tarnish her reputation by marrying him."

"Tarnish?" The woman in red, standing slightly apart from the others, sneered at the one in gold. "Lord Bastien is an exceptionally agreeable man, not to mention it's obvious that our Queen and Lord Bastien are secretly together."

The women in blue nodded vehemently. "It would be the wedding of the century," they agreed, their excitement growing. "Not only do they look good together, but they've been childhood friends. It seems obvious that they fell in love long ago."

Lucy's smile didn't falter, but her mind raced with this new information. As she turned away from the group, she scanned the crowd for any sign of Sting or Bastien. To her surprise, they were nowhere to be found. She glanced around the room, her brow furrowing slightly as she considered where they might be.

Perhaps they had separated to speak with the aristocrats on their list of possible suspects. Last night, during a quiet dinner in Bastien's rooms, they had devised a plan to subtly interrogate the aristocrats without raising suspicion. Dividing and conquering seemed to be their best approach.

"Well, the Queen should still marry," the courtier in gold sniffed, breaking Lucy's train of thought. "Otherwise, she's snubbing her nose at tradition. She's a young woman of nineteen, more than old enough to be wed."

"The crown is stable, regardless of her marital status," the woman in red retorted sharply. "The world is changing. Fiore's Queen is an unwed woman, and they are a much larger kingdom than ours—not to mention more than stable."

Lucy took a small sip of her champagne, her eyes scanning the room once more as she pretended to be absorbed in the idle chatter. The men continued to chuckle over their card games, while the women laughed softly, their gazes drifting between the players and their own quiet conversations.

Despite the light atmosphere, Lucy couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. The tension in the air was almost palpable, and she knew that their mission was far from over. With Sting and Bastien still unaccounted for, she decided it was time to take matters into her own hands.

Her smile remained, but her mind was already working through the next steps. The women around her continued their gossip, oblivious to the storm brewing just beneath the surface. She frowned behind her glass, her thoughts far from the game unfolding in front of her.

"May I take your glass?" Sting's voice, soft yet commanding, broke through her thoughts. He extended his hand, offering to take her empty glass as he held a new one filled with champagne.

Lucy glanced up at him, her heart skipping a beat. There was something about the way he looked at her that made her chest tighten. She smiled, accepting the new glass. "Thank you, Sting. Might you show me a good book recommendation?"

Sting nodded, his expression as calm and unreadable as ever. "Follow me."

As they walked away from the prying eyes of the other women, Lucy's pulse quickened. She moved closer to him as they reached the large collection of books that lined the room. The dim lighting and the murmur of conversations around them provided the perfect cover for their exchange.

"Have you spoken with Lord Silvius of Moonshore?" Lucy asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Sting plucked a book from the shelf, his movements deliberate and thoughtful. "He has yet to arrive."

Lucy nodded, her mind working through the possibilities. "He is one of the more obvious choices," she murmured, glancing up at him. "Have you discussed this with Bastien?"

"Bastien is currently speaking with Captain Mephisto," Sting replied, putting the book back and reaching for another. His calm demeanor put her at ease, but only slightly. "We still haven't located the noblewoman who offered the job."

Lucy's frown deepened. The uncertainty gnawed at her, the pressure of their mission weighing heavily on her shoulders. She was well aware of the stakes and how much depended on their success.

"Perhaps I can get information from Lord Silvius when I engage him in a game of cards," Sting suggested, handing her a small, letter-bound book in a rich shade of blue.

As he leaned in, his mouth grazing her ear, Lucy's breath caught. "After we are done, I shall bring you back to our rooms," he whispered, his warm breath sending a shiver down her spine.

For a moment, the world seemed to narrow to just the two of them. The way he spoke to her, the way he looked at her, made her heart ache with something more than affection. She could feel the depth of her feelings for him, feelings that had grown over time, blossoming into something profound and unspoken.

But as quickly as that warmth filled her, it was replaced by a cold pang of guilt. The image of Natsu flashed in her mind—his loyalty, his strength, devotion and the bond they shared. She cared deeply for Sting, but her loyalty to Natsu was unwavering, and that loyalty created a storm of conflicting emotions within her.

She managed a small smile, hiding the turmoil inside. "Thank you," she whispered back, her voice steady despite the battle raging in her heart.

Sting pulled back slightly, his gaze searching her face. There was something in his eyes—concern, maybe, or a recognition of the tension she was trying so hard to conceal. But he didn't push her, simply nodded and stepped away, his presence as steady and reassuring as ever.

Lucy watched him for a moment longer, her emotions in turmoil. She knew she had to focus on the mission, but the lines between duty and affection were becoming increasingly blurred. As she clutched the book he'd handed her, she took a deep breath, forcing herself to push those feelings aside, at least for now.


Lilithe reclined in her armchair, the delicate china teacup warm in her hands as she sipped the fragrant brew. The room was filled with the quiet murmur of voices—Lucy, Sting, and Bastien were gathered around her, discussing matters that were anything but light. Rogue had just left to shower, and though she tried to ignore the cold, empty space he left behind, she couldn't quite shake the feeling. But she pushed those thoughts aside and focused on the conversation at hand.

"There's plenty of talk going around that you being unwed is unstable for the people's future," Bastien remarked, his tone casual, though his eyes were sharp. "If something were to happen to you, the kingdom needs to know they can rely on you for stability."

Lilithe snorted softly, a wry smile curling her lips. "I don't need marriage to provide the kingdom with the stability they desire. My leadership isn't defined by a ring on my finger."

Bastien, leaning against the wall with an easy confidence, clicked his tongue in playful disapproval. "Marriage isn't the end of the world, Lilithe. It's a tool, one that can be used to strengthen your rule."

Lilithe sighed, setting her teacup down on the table beside her. "And who, pray tell, would you suggest I wed? Every suitor I've met is either lacking in character, ambition, or both."

A sly smile spread across Bastien's face as he leaned forward slightly. "Well, you know we could wed. It would solve quite a few problems, wouldn't it?"

For a moment, Lilithe stared at him, and then a laugh burst from her lips. "Oh, Bastien, no offense, but we both know that would never work out. You and I on the throne together? It would be a disaster."

Bastien's smirk widened, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Don't be so sure. We've known each other since we were children. We'd make a formidable pair, don't you think? Great lovers sitting on that throne together."

"You really are delusional," Lilithe replied with a shake of her head, though there was fondness in her voice. "We both know it would be a loveless marriage, and neither of us would benefit from it. Besides, I wouldn't let you anywhere near my bed—who knows what diseases you've picked up along the way?"

Bastien pouted dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. "Such cruelty, Lilithe. But, as much as it pains me to admit it, you're right. I've never been one for responsibility, especially not the kind that comes with a crown."

"Of course you're not," Lilithe laughed, a genuine smile on her face. "But we do need to put these rumors to rest once and for all."

Underneath their playful banter, there was an unspoken understanding between them. Lilithe knew that Bastien's flirtatious comments were all in jest. Their bond was rooted in years of shared history, in the camaraderie of childhood friends who had seen each other through thick and thin. Though she occasionally wondered if he harbored any deeper feelings for her, she never had the courage to ask. The risk of damaging their friendship was too great.

Sting, who had been quietly observing the exchange, finally spoke up. "Perhaps we could use the rumors to our advantage."

Lucy, who had been nodding thoughtfully, chimed in. "Sting's right. If we play our cards correctly, this could work in our favor."

Lilithe arched an eyebrow, intrigued. "How exactly do you propose we do that?"

Sting leaned forward, his expression serious. "Your court is divided on the issue of your marriage. By announcing a fake engagement between you and Bastien, we could see who reveals their true colors. It might help us narrow down our list of suspects."

Lilithe turned to Bastien, a smirk tugging at her lips. "You do realize that you're not kissing me, right?"

Bastien chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "You'll come around eventually."

Lilithe rolled her eyes, taking another sip of her tea. "Don't hold your breath."

"Tomorrow, you should announce your engagement to Bastien at the party before you leave for the ceremony," Sting suggested, his voice steady and confident. "It'll give the three of us a chance to observe how the courtiers react. We can then cross-reference their behavior with the names on our list—especially those who haven't shown up for the event."

Lucy's expression darkened slightly. "We still need to find the noblewoman who seems to harbor a deep hatred for you, Lilithe. She's a dangerous wildcard."

Lilithe set her teacup down with a decisive clink, her eyes narrowing. "I'll see to it that the event is planned. This charade may be just what we need to flush out the traitor."

As Lilithe watched her friends depart, she moved closer to the fire, its comforting heat washing over her. Yet, despite the warmth, she felt a cold knot of conflict deep within her chest. She stared into the flickering flames, trying to find clarity in their chaotic dance.

"You look lost," Rogue's voice broke through her reverie, pulling her back to the present. She turned to see him standing just a few feet away, clad in pajamas. The sight of him, familiar and yet so intimate in the soft glow of the fire, made her heart ache.

"I think I am," she replied softly, her voice tinged with melancholy. "I think I have been for a long time now."

Rogue closed the distance between them, kneeling before her with a gentle tenderness that belied the storm brewing within him. He cradled her face in his hands, his thumb brushing over her bottom lip in a way that made her breath hitch. His eyes flickered from hers to her lips, the connection between them palpable, almost electric.

Her tongue instinctively swiped over her lip, grazing his thumb, and the small, innocent action ignited something primal within him. Rogue's thoughts, already clouded by desire, began to spiral as his inner dragon stirred, pushing against the edges of his control.

"I won't leave you alone," he promised, his voice low and rough, barely concealing the feral edge beneath it.

"Kiss me now," she whispered, her voice filled with a longing that matched his own, and Rogue, unable to resist her plea, surrendered to the pull between them.

He captured her lips with his, the kiss starting out gentle but quickly deepening as his inner dragon roared to life, demanding more. His hands moved to cradle the back of her head and neck, pulling her closer, until she fell into his lap, her body pressed against his.

Rogue's control was slipping. He swiped his tongue over her bottom lip, seeking entry, testing the boundaries of her desire. But he already knew; she wanted him just as badly as he wanted her. The realization only fueled the fire within him.

Their tongues met, and the taste of her was intoxicating. She sighed softly into his mouth, the sound sending jolts of pleasure straight through him. His hands moved down to clutch her hips, feeling her instinctively grind against him, and his thoughts became muddled, consumed by the need to claim her.

Breaking the kiss, he trailed his lips along her jaw, inhaling her scent deeply, savoring the way it made his dragon snarl with possessive hunger. When he placed a soft kiss behind her ear, she shuddered beneath him, her body trembling with the same need that coursed through him.

Interesting…* he mused, but the thought was fleeting, drowned out by the roar of his dragon demanding more.

He removed her robe, tossing it into the fire without a second thought. The sight of her bare skin drove him to the brink of madness.

"Rogue!" Lilithe protested softly, smacking his chest. "Why'd you do that?"

"Covered too much skin," he muttered between kisses, his voice thick with need. "Now hush so I can continue ravaging what's mine."

His words sent a spark through her, igniting a matching fire within her that made her thighs clench around him. The haze of lust clouded her mind, and all she could do was whimper softly as his hands explored her body, every touch driving her deeper into the storm of their shared desire.

"Try to quiet yourself," Rogue growled into her ear, his voice a deep, guttural rumble that sent shivers down her spine. "Or I'll tie your hands down. Do you understand?"

"Y—yes, sir!" she squeaked, her voice high-pitched and breathless.

But Rogue wasn't satisfied with her attempt at restraint. He could feel the bond between them growing stronger, the pull of the mating bond intensifying as his dragon clawed at the edges of his consciousness, urging him to complete the bond, to make her his in every way.

He pulled down the thin strap of her nightgown, exposing her shoulder. His lips followed, placing kisses along the newly revealed skin, each one a claim on what was his. Her hands tangled in his hair, yanking out the ponytail holder and letting the long strands cascade around them as she moaned softly.

"Rogue," she breathed, trying to regain some semblance of control, but her thoughts were scattered, lost in the haze of pleasure. "I have to tell you something."

"Can it wait?" he grunted, his voice rough as he continued to lap at the soft, pale skin of her neck.

"I'm going to be engaged tomorrow," she panted, gasping when he nipped at her sensitive flesh.

His movements stilled, the words cutting through the fog in his mind. "What?"

"Lucy and Sting think that by proposing an engagement with Bastien, we'll be able to find the traitor," she explained, though her voice was shaky, uncertain.

The moment the words left her lips, Rogue's dragon surged forward, a fierce growl rumbling in his chest. The thought of her with someone else, even in a fake engagement, was unbearable. His possessive instincts flared, and the urge to mark her, to claim her as his own, became overwhelming.

"No," he growled, his voice more dragon than man, the primal urge to protect what was his pushing him closer to the edge. "You're mine."

The words were more a declaration than anything else, and Lilithe felt the weight of them settle over her like a cloak. The intensity of his gaze, the way his hands tightened on her hips, left no room for doubt. She was his, just as much as he was hers.

But even as the haze of lust threatened to consume them both, some small, rational part of her mind clung to the mission, to the necessity of the plan. She had to make him understand.

"Rogue," she whispered, her hands cupping his face, trying to bring him back from the edge. "This is the only way to find the traitor. It's just a ruse, nothing more."

But Rogue's dragon didn't care about logic or strategy. It only cared about her—his mate, his queen. The possessive growl rumbled through him again, and he captured her lips in a fierce, demanding kiss, pouring all of his frustration, his need, his affection into it.

When he finally pulled back, his breath ragged, he pressed his forehead against hers, trying to regain control. "If you go through with this, Lilithe, you'll still be mine. No one else can have you. No one else will ever take my place."

His words sent a thrill through her, but they also grounded her, reminding her of what was at stake. "I know, Rogue. I'm yours. Always. But we have to do this."

His eyes, still dark with the remnants of his dragon's influence, searched hers for any sign of hesitation. When he found none, he nodded slowly, though the possessive edge in his gaze remained.

"Just remember, Lilithe," he murmured, his voice low and dangerous, "no matter what happens tomorrow, you're mine. And I'll never let you forget it."

With that, he pulled her close again, reclaiming her lips with a kiss that left no room for doubt, lowering her to the ground.

"Especially when it comes to you."

The intensity between them crackled, the air thick with unspoken tension. Lilithe's hand slid up to his chest, her fingers lightly tracing the fabric of his shirt. "And what is it that you truly think of me, Rogue?"

"I think you are the most captivating woman I've ever met," he confessed, his eyes locked onto hers. "Strong, intelligent, and incredibly beautiful."

Lilithe's eyes darkened with something that was not just gratitude or curiosity. "You should be careful, Rogue," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "I might start to believe you."

Rogue's hand reached up to gently cup her cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against her skin. "Then let me give you every reason to."

For a moment, the world seemed to narrow to just the two of them, the intensity of their connection palpable. But then Lilithe's expression shifted, a mixture of vulnerability and resolve.

Lilithe stepped inside, turning back to look at him one last time before she slowly closed the door behind her. Rogue stood there for a moment, his heart heavy with the weight of the night's events and the unspoken feelings that lingered between them.

Finally, with a deep breath, he turned and walked away, his mind racing with thoughts of how to protect her from the dangers that lay ahead. But one thing was certain: he would do whatever it took to keep Lilithe safe, no matter the cost.