The tensions within the Empire of Alexandria had never been so palpable. The six legendary families, each fighting for influence and prestige, were waging a war of assassinations, economic sabotage, and border skirmishes.

The Pendragon family, one of the military pillars of the Empire, found itself at the center of this turmoil, harassed by the ambitions of the Draken and the maneuvers of the Dantalion.

To maintain their offensive supremacy and protect their borders, the Pendragon had been forced to call upon external forces. It was in this context that they had hired a mercenary whose name circulated with fear in Babylon. Known for his efficiency and constant successes, he was not a simple soldier for the Pendragon family, but rather the tactician capable of turning the tide of a battle single-handedly.

Officially, he was there to train the troops and lead punitive raids against the opposing factions. Unofficially, he took care of things that were more... intimate.

Iris Pendragon, a woman of high lineage and an influential member of the family, was going through one of the darkest periods of her existence.

The recent loss of her only son had left her in a state of extreme emotional vulnerability, but in this world of wolves where any weakness was exploited, she had to display a mask of aristocratic coldness, even if inside, the pain was eating away at her.

This mercenary had been the only one to perceive the woman who stood behind the head of the Pendragon lineage. Beyond his military duties, he had begun to offer her a stable presence, an anchor in the chaos of her life.

Quickly, a complicity had developed between them. Their nocturnal meetings, far from the indiscreet eyes of the court, had become a necessity for Iris, and that evening was no exception to the rule.

*The Pendragon Domain*

Iris was waiting in the small private lounge of the pavilion, an isolated room whose walls were covered in velvet that muffled sounds. She was standing near the window, observing the moon that filtered through the clouds.

She was wearing a nightgown in midnight blue silk, a fabric so fine that it hugged every curve of her sculptural body. The material slid over her wide hips and highlighted the arch of her back before falling in fluid folds to the floor. Her long hair, which she rarely left loose in public, cascaded in heavy curls over her bare shoulders.

Her skin, of a porcelain pallor, seemed to glow in the dim light. She heard the familiar click of the door, then his steady footsteps on the parquet. She did not turn around immediately, savoring the sensation of his presence that suddenly filled the room.

He entered with his usual nonchalance, after all this was not the first time he had come. He closed the door behind him with a discreet click and observed Iris’s silhouette. There was no denying it, she was simply magnificent, but quickly something else caught his attention.

The slight stiffness of her shoulders, the almost imperceptible trembling of her fingers against the windowsill. For him, Iris was not just a client or a haughty noblewoman; she was a woman whose every nuance he had learned to know during his stay. He approached slowly, stopping a few steps away from her.

"You seem elsewhere, Iris," he said in a low and calm voice.

Iris let out a long sigh and finally turned toward him. Her eyes, veiled by a sadness that tightened his heart, despite his own usual detachment. "The family council was particularly trying today. They talk about the war, resources, alliances... They talk about everything, except what we have lost," she replied, her voice trembling with contained anger.

’Why does power always demand such a price?’ thought Iris while looking at his impassive face hidden by the dim light.

The mercenary took one more step, reducing the space between them. The light from the candles played on the features of his face, accentuating the line of his jaw and the cold blue of his gaze.

"The great families are not built on love, but on necessity. You know that better than I do. Your son was a soldier of the family. For them, he is a statistic. For you, he was everything," he said with a cynicism that for some strange reason brought a certain comfort to Iris.

Iris moved closer to him, drawn by the warmth emanating from his body. She placed a hand on his arm, feeling the hardness of the muscles under the fabric.

"And for you? What am I to you? Just another pawn in your contract with the Pendragon?" she asked, her gaze plunging into his with a feverish intensity.

He did not look away. He raised a hand and brushed Iris’s cheek with the tips of his fingers, a gesture of unexpected gentleness. "A pawn would not make me want to stay here a second longer than necessary. A pawn would not haunt my thoughts when I am on the battlefield," he replied, his voice becoming a hoarse whisper.

At these words, she pressed herself against him, seeking the physical contact she had been deprived of for so long. She buried her face against his chest, breathing in the scent that characterized him. The man wrapped his arms around her, his large hands resting on the small of her back, holding her firmly against him. He felt the warmth of her body through the thin silk of her robe, the rapid rhythm of her heart beating against his sternum.

"I feel so alone in this palace," murmured Iris, her voice muffled by the fabric of her garment. "Everyone expects something from me. You are the only one to whom I have nothing to prove."

Pulling back slightly so he could look her in the face. He framed her face with his hands, his thumbs gently caressing her cheekbones. "Then prove nothing. Just be Iris," he said before leaning toward her.

Their lips met first hesitantly, a simple brush loaded with tension that had built up for weeks. Then, the kiss deepened instantly. Iris opened her mouth under the pressure of his, letting their tongues meet and intertwine with contained urgency. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers sinking into his hair, pulling him closer to her.

The man intensified the kiss, his hands sliding down Iris’s silhouette to firmly grasp her hips. He pressed her against him, making her feel the tension of his own desire through his clothes. Iris let out a small muffled moan against his mouth, her body arching instinctively to seek more contact.

’I shouldn’t be doing this, but I can’t stop anymore,’ she thought as he moved his kisses along the line of her jaw, then to her neck.

He gently nibbled the sensitive skin just below her ear, causing a new shiver in her. His hands continued their exploration, kneading the firm and round flesh of her buttocks through the silk, a possessive caress that sent heat rising in the lower part of her belly. Iris tilted her head back, offering better access to her neck, her half-closed eyes shining with a gleam of pure desire.

"Ah... Hm... please," she murmured, her breathing becoming ragged.

"Shhh," he replied against her skin, his warm breath burning her flesh. "We have all night."

He lifted her effortlessly, Iris’s legs wrapping naturally around his waist as he carried her toward the large divan located in the center of the room. He laid her gently on the velvet cushions, positioning himself between her already parted thighs. Iris looked at him, her face marked by a passion she had not felt in years, her lips red and swollen from their kisses.

"I want you so much, Klein~~" 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝘦𝘸𝑒𝒷𝓃ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝒸ℴ𝘮

Klein smiled then kissed her...

’Bad habits die hard... Sorry my little Iris, but you are my first target in this new life...’