The Pharaoh’s Favorite

[Neferet’s POV]

His body is pressed against mine, his hands gliding over my bare skin with reverence, possession. His breath is warm against my ear, his lips whispering my name like a prayer only he is meant to speak.

“You feel it, don’t you?” he murmurs, his voice thick with meaning. “The way you belong to me. The way I belong to you.”

I do not resist. I should. I know I should. But there is something about him—his touch, his presence—that pulls me under, drowns me willingly.

I am desperate to finally see his face, to understand why my dreams have belonged to him and not to the man I am meant to marry soon.

“Yes, I do,” I whisper, and I really mean it.

His hands tighten around me, his lips tracing a path down my throat, over my shoulder and breasts, my stomach, lower and lower—

A sudden rush of heat floods my body, sharp and overwhelming. I arch against his mouth, a moan slipping from my lips.

But then—a voice cuts through the haze.

"Lady Neferet!"

My eyes snap open.

I blink, trying to steady myself. The familiar face before me comes into focus — Pageti, my childhood friend, my most loyal servant. She is kneeling beside my bed, her brows furrowed in concern.

"You were trembling in your sleep," she said, voice soft but urgent. "And… breathing like you'd just run through the desert barefoot."

A deep flush crawls up my neck.

The dream. The way I moaned his name.

I press my hands to my burning face, mortified. "I— It was nothing. Just a dream."

Pageti does not look convinced. "The same dream with the stranger as always?"

I shake my head, hesitating. "No… not really. This time, it was different."