The inn was quiet, the world outside wrapped in moonlight. As Marco and Colden were talking their hands met and Colden leaned over forward and they kissed . Marco blushed and Colden grabbed Marco's thighs and went deeper .
He the started stroking Marco's dick off and and Marco moaned . the moaning only got louder as they started thumping together . it came to point that they both came together and kissed .
It was deep. Hungry. A collision of breath and want. Marco gasped softly as Colden's hand slid along his thigh, sending a shiver through him. The heat between them built, unspoken and undeniable.
Marco's cheeks flushed, his breath catching.
Colden pulled back just enough to whisper, "You're trembling."
Marco nodded. "I don't know what's happening to me."
Colden smiled, brushing his thumb across Marco's cheek. "Maybe we're both changing."
They stayed like that — close, breathless, hearts racing — until the sound of distant bells reminded them that the palace dinner had begun.
At the palace, something was… off.
Viremont, who always made a grand entrance, was already seated.
Early.
Poised.
Smiling.
It made everyone uneasy.
Carmine narrowed her eyes from across the hall. She didn't like surprises — and this one ticked every alarm in her gut. With Francis out of town, she felt the weight of vigilance fall squarely on her shoulders.
Then came the sisters.
They began stuffing their mouths with food — aggressively, messily, like children at a festival. Normally, Viremont would slap their wrists, hiss about manners, and cause a scene.
But tonight?
Nothing.
Even when they vomited — right onto her lap — Viremont didn't flinch.
She smiled.
A soft, eerie smile.
Carmine was already moving, cleaning up the mess with practiced speed, but her eyes never left Viremont.
Something was wrong.
Midnight.
The palace was quiet again.
Gina walked the halls like a shadow, her steps silent, her expression unreadable.
She stopped at Viremont's door.
Knocked once.
The door opened.
And Gina stepped inside.
To be continued…