Lin Qian walked down the gold-carpeted hallway like he hadn't just come in his husband's lap minutes ago.
His robe was pristine. Refastened. His hair neatly pinned up again with only the barest shake to it. His fan was open, fluttering lazily in front of his face.
And his scent?
Subtle. Hidden beneath layers of expensive oils… but still there. Still tainted with sweat, release, and something distinctly Alpha. Anyone standing too close would wonder why they suddenly felt hungry.
"Your Highness," whispered one of his maids nervously, adjusting his collar for the fifth time. "Are you alright? You look—"
"Beautiful," Qian replied smoothly, not letting her finish. "Just… warm."
She blinked. "It's winter."
He smiled. "Exactly."
The doors to the banquet hall swung open as heralds announced their presence. Golden lanterns lit the massive hall like a setting sun—drapes of silk hanging from every column. Cushions arranged on a raised platform at the head, with lower seating spread across the vast marble floor for the nobility.
General Yan Hei was already there.
Dressed now in formal black and crimson. Hair tied back. Hands folded in his lap like he wasn't imagining those same hands fisted in his Omega's hips not ten minutes ago.
When Qian entered, Yan Hei looked up.
And froze.
Just for a moment. Just long enough.
Qian's gaze flicked to his mouth.
That mouth that had kissed the inside of his thighs like a starving man.
He walked calmly to his assigned seat—two cushions to the right of the Emperor. Close enough to be honored. Far enough to be watched.
Lin Hua entered right behind him, practically skipping. Her dress was so covered in pearls she jingled with every step like a broken chandelier.
She glided toward the general with a smile sharp enough to pierce armor. "General," she purred, lowering herself beside him. "You left before I could escort you."
Yan Hei turned his head slowly.
Stared at her.
Then blinked once and looked away without a word.
Qian bit the inside of his cheek.
He was going to choke on his tea before this night ended.
The Emperor clapped once, and the music started. Dancers swept into the room. Food was served. Wine poured. Nobles laughed,
Qian picked up his cup.
It trembled.
Across the room, Yan Hei was still looking at him.
No. Staring.
conds away from dragging him under the banquet table and finishing what they started.
And the worst part?
Qian's body wanted it.
He shifted, thighs pressed together tightly. Trying to will away the phantom heat. The memory of how full he'd been.
Lin Hua leaned toward the general again. "You haven't touched your wine."
Yan Hei didn't respond.
He picked up the cup. And with his eyes locked on Lin Qian, he drank. Slow. Deliberate.
Qian felt it like a damn stroke.
The Emperor laughed loudly at some noble's joke, breaking the moment.