A Judas Kiss of Betrayal

  The scent of jasmine and smoke lingered in the air as Seraphina slipped through the darkened halls of the palace. The court had dispersed, but the true games of power were only beginning.

  She moved like a whisper, her bare feet making no sound against the cool marble. The silk of her dress clung to her curves, shimmering in the moonlight that bled through the lattice windows.

  Then—a shadow.

  A hand, firm yet familiar, seized her wrist and pulled her into the alcove.

  Kael Vostrik.

  The warlord loomed over her, his eyes dark with something unreadable. Not rage. Not desire. Something deeper.

  “You watched,” he murmured.

  Seraphina’s lips parted slightly. She could smell the leather of his armor, the faint trace of blood beneath. A man of war. A man of secrets.

  “I listen,” she corrected, her voice velvet-soft.

  Kael exhaled a low chuckle. “And what did you hear, dancer?”

  Seraphina tilted her chin up, her gold eyes gleaming. “Enough to know that you, Warlord, do not come bearing gifts without a price.”

  His fingers brushed against her cheek—gentle, deceptive. A Judas kiss without the lips, a warning wrapped in tenderness.

  A Moment Stolen from Fate

  The desert wind howled softly in the distance, rustling through the tattered silk of Seraphina’s veil as she pressed closer into Kael. The scent of spice and sandalwood clung to her skin, mixing with the faint metallic tang of his blood.

  “??? ????/? ????, ??????,” Seraphina murmured, her breath warm against his ear, as her body melted into his. She could feel the heat of him beneath her palms, the way his muscles tensed under her touch. But as her breasts brushed against his wounded ribs—

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  “Aooowww!”

  Kael groaned, his voice raw, breaking into Arabic. “?????? ????? ?? ????? ??? ???????. ?? ???? ?????? ?? ?????? ??? ???? ??????? ?? ?????? ????????? ??? ?? ??????. ??? ??? ?????.”

  He caught her wrists, his grip firm yet gentle as he pulled back just slightly, his lips curling into a pained smirk. “You’re trying to kill me before the enemy does, eh, my love?”

  Seraphina giggled, resting her forehead against his. “Perhaps, but only with love.”

  Still, her hands didn’t leave him. Instead, she trailed them down his chest, fingertips ghosting over old scars, then over the fresh wound beneath the bloodied bandages. “We should rest, Kael. Let me take care of you.”

  He exhaled sharply, closing his eyes for a brief moment, before opening them again—dark, smoldering, full of longing. “And how do you plan to do that?”

  She didn’t answer with words. Instead, she tilted her face upwards, brushing her lips against his, teasingly at first—just a whisper of warmth before deepening, letting the taste of him linger on her tongue. Kael let out a soft groan, his hands weaving into her hair as he pulled her back for more.

  Their world shrank, just for a moment—there was no war, no betrayal, no looming bloodshed. Only the rhythm of their breaths, the fire between them, and the unspoken promise in the way he kissed her back, slow and desperate, like a dying man grasping for his last taste of life.

  “You know,” he murmured against her lips when they finally broke apart, “I’ve been wondering how you got that name of yours.”

  Seraphina smiled, tracing the stubble along his jaw. “It was given to me by my aunt before she left this world.”

  Kael’s eyes softened, his fingers tightening around hers. “Seraphina… it means ‘the burning ones.’ You are named after the seraphim, the holiest of angels in the Hebrew texts.”

  She sighed, resting her cheek against his shoulder, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat. “Then tell me, my love… if I am of fire, why does the world wish to extinguish me?”

  Kael kissed the crown of her head, lingering there. “Because they fear the flames, Seraphina. But I… I would gladly burn for you.”

  She squeezed his hand, but the flicker of sadness in her eyes did not fade. “??? ????? ????, ????. ????? ?? ????? ?? ???? ?? ????... ??? ????? ????? ???? ????. ??? ???? ????? ?? ?????? ??? ?? ?????.”

  Kael cupped her face gently, forcing her to meet his gaze. “I swear it, Seraphina. I will return to you. No force in this world will keep me from you.”

  Yet even as he whispered those words, the night wind carried a different promise—a whisper of war, a shadow moving just beyond the dunes.

  “Everyone has a price,” he murmured, stepping back into the darkness.

  Seraphina pressed her palm against her racing heart.

  The war was no longer on the battlefield.

  The embers of their whispered promises still clung to the air, but war had no patience for lovers.

  As Kael and Seraphina lingered in the desert’s embrace, the city of Zadreth stirred with unseen treachery. Within its stone walls, behind veiled smiles and silk-draped corridors, knives were being sharpened—not of steel, but of words.