The rose quartz door quivered beneath Henry's palm—not metaphorically, but with an actual, breathy tremble, like a lover caught mid-sigh. A low moan slipped from the stone, sultry and soft, as though the very chamber beyond exhaled desire.
"Did that door just purr?" Yvette asked, raising one elegant brow.
"Better than growling," Domina muttered, unfurling her whip with a sensual flick. Her fingers danced along the leather with the practiced grace of a maestro preparing to conduct a symphony of pain.
Seraphina's eyes narrowed. Her hand hovered over the hilt of her sword, tension coiling through her frame. "Caution. This could be the final trial… or the world's most seductive trap."
The door groaned as it opened, its parting seams sighing like silk torn from flushed skin. A warm, pink light spilled into the corridor, wrapping the party in a glowing embrace.
