I opened the door slowly and stepped into a dimly lit chamber illuminated by lanterns and candles. A long table stretched across the room, covered in platters of food. At its center sat a rectangular glass vessel filled with black, glittering stones, from which a small but steady flame flickered. Along one wall, a towering hearth carved from polished obsidian held a roaring, crackling fire. The atmosphere felt almost romantic, nothing like what I had expected. Fire surrounded me, and I could feel its warmth everywhere, yet never felt too hot.
That all changed the moment I saw the Lord of Flame seated at the head of the table.
Heat surged within me, traitorous and unyielding. It was a seductive, oppressive warmth that threatened to melt me fromthe inside out. Titus was devastatingly handsome, unforgivingly sexy, and without question the most striking male I had ever encountered.
Even seated, I could tell he was tall, perhaps even taller than the two males I had met earlier. His hair was shaggy yet regal in an effortless way, rich brown with natural strands of copper that caught the firelight. Soft waves framed his face, pointed ears peeking through. His eyes burned amber, his skin was golden tan, and his face was angular like the other Fae I had encountered, but unlike them, he had a ruggedness to him, softened by just the right amount of stubble. My gaze locked onto him. From the intensity in his eyes alone, I knew he was a being carved from raw, untamed power. If fire itself could take a bodily form, it would be Lord Titus.
At first, he did not bother to look at me properly. His gaze swept over me as if I were an unremarkable piece of furniture. When his attention finally settled on me, his eyes, two points of concentrated flame, held an almost bored cruelty. His posture spoke of unquestioned dominion and effortless arrogance.
He gestured to a place setting two seats away from him. It was the only other setting at the table. I lowered myself into a solid chair carved from polished black wood, its high back looming behind me.
“Just us?” I asked.
“Who else did you expect to dine with, human?” he replied, his tone heavy with condescension. His voice was so deep it seemed to reverberate through my body, a dangerous rumble that made my breath hitch.
“Uh, no one. I have just met a few…” I began.
“Servants?” he interrupted. “I do not dine with my staff. Do you know who I am?” The confidence in his voice carried the certainty of someone who could do anything he pleased, without consequence or restraint.
My palms began to sweat, and my heart raced. Had I already offended him? Fear crept in, sharp and immediate. I forced my voice to stay soft as I lowered my head. “Yes, I believe so. You are the king of the Fire Fae.”
“I am Lord Titus, High Lord of the Kingdom of Flame,” he corrected. “No kings rule the Fae. Each element has their own High Lord. In my kingdom, power is divided equally between myself and the Temple. We each command our own armies, and the council governs in service of Holy Law and Fire Fae tradition.”
“Oh,” I said, then added before thinking better of it, “that sounds difficult.”
He offered no reply. He remained seated in his imposing chair, silently assessing me with an arched brow. Then, without a word, he began filling my plate with an array of delicacies. Roasted chicken and potatoes, filet of beef with a rich sauce, vegetables I did not recognize. Everything smelled incredible. My eyes lingered on a dark chocolate cake, and I was practically drooling. I was starving and grateful they ate similar foods here.
He noticed me staring down the dessert. Our eyes met. I quickly looked away, heat rising to my cheeks as I tried to conceal my embarrassment.
“Thank you,” I said quietly.
He lowered his head and placed his fist over his heart, as if in prayer. I awkwardly set my fork down, bowed my head as well, and waited for him to eat first before taking a bite.
“Your castle is lovely,” I said, attempting polite conversation. “It is not what I expected from the outside.”
His eyes snapped to mine. “Does the exterior not meet your standards, human?” he asked coldly.
“No. I mean, yes. Wait. That is not what I meant,” I rushed out. “The outside is intimidating. It is on an active volcano, forcrying out loud. But the inside has such warmth and beauty. I find it romantic, actually.” I meant it with genuine kindness.
His eyes burned into mine. “Perhaps you should not form opinions about things you know nothing about,” he snapped. His tone was harsh as flames rolled off his shoulders. Seeing fire spew from a person was jarring. I was far enough away to avoid the heat, but that did nothing to stop the terror curling in my gut.
He lowered his gaze to his plate, withdrawn. Not angry. Just empty. Usually, I could read people well, but these were not people. He was Fae, and I was beginning to understand how different their emotional landscapes were. In some ways, he was right. I had judged him and this place based on its terrifying exterior. I had assumed a dungeon, pain, punishment. Instead, I had been healed, cared for, and treated like a queen. I had touched a nerve, a dangerous one, and part of me truly did feel guilty.
We sat in silence, but I could not take my eyes off the High Lord. He was breathtaking. His shoulders were so broad I wondered if he would even fit through a normal doorway back home. His fitted black button-down shirt, open at the collar, revealed glimpses of firm muscle and a dusting of dark hair. He radiated raw authority. It was impossible not to be drawn to him. Titus possessed a gravity so intense it felt as though he were the sun itself, and everything around him existed only to orbit.
He would have been considered a god in my world by looks alone. He was everything I knew was dangerous and wrong, yet breathtakingly alive. That aliveness was something I had been craving for far too long.
His silence broke. “I can smell your fear you know, Fae possess a keen sense of smell, High Lords even more so, I smelled your fear at the door before you even met me, and I can also smell your arousal, so which is it are you afraid of me? Or do you want to fuck me? Or is it both? Tell me Delilah are you aroused by fear?”
I froze.
I did not know how to respond. His words dripped with condescension. I should have felt fear, the kind that settles deep in the bones and warns you to flee. I knew how powerful he was. I felt it simply standing in his presence. Yet instead of panic, there was a traitorous flutter in my chest and an unwelcome heat stirring beneath my skin.
Every sharp word only deepened my fascination and pulled me closer.What was wrong with me?
I swallowed and opened my mouth to speak, to say anything at all, but he cut in again.
"If I asked you to get under my table and suck my cock, would you do it?” He asked with a menacing tone and arched brow.
