The ballroom was a glittering circus, all chandeliers and simpering courtiers, where secrets slunk behind fans and the air reeked of rosewater. Lady Verity Thrustworthy, Viscountess of Thornvale, leaned against a marble pillar, her emerald gown clinging to her curves, her dark eyes glinting with mischief. The court called her the “Viper Viscountess,” a nod to her razor wit and the way she toyed with suitors, leaving them flustered with a grin and a well-placed quip. Tonight, that pompous dandy Lord Percival had tried his luck, cornering her with accusations of “bewitching the court’s hearts.” His waistcoat—a garish clash of lime silk and peacock feathers—fluttered like a distressed parrot, and Verity’s teasing retort (“Your tailor must weep nightly, Percival”) had left him red-faced. But his spies were sniffing too close, their master’s greed for a stolen throne making him a thorn she couldn’t ignore.

When Percival, mid-tirade, tripped over his cape and crashed into a dessert table, feathers flying and custard splattering, Verity seized her chance. With a wicked smile, she slipped through a velvet-curtained exit, her heels whispering on the palace steps as she vanished into the forest. The night air was cool, but her pulse thrummed with the thrill of escape, leading her to her secret haven: a shimmering moon-lit spring, its warm waters buzzing with magic. The court spun tales of its enchantments—lovers bewitched, desires unbound—but Verity came to play, and Aurelia was her favorite partner.

She kicked off her slippers, her gown rustling as she sank onto a mossy bank, the spring’s steam curling around her like a teasing caress. From a velvet pouch at her waist, she drew Aurelia, its sleek surface gleaming under the moon. Two years ago, Zephyr, a rogue alchemist with a devilish grin, had pressed it into her hand after she outsmarted him at a black-market auction, her bid for a cursed sapphire earning his respect. “This’ll suit you better, viper,” he’d said, winking. “Stole it from a witch who doesn’t deserve its spark. Let it sting her where it hurts.” Verity hadn’t pried—Aurelia’s soft hum and Zephyr’s mischief were enough. Since then, Aurelia had been her conspirator, its emotional resonance soothing the wounds of Reginald’s betrayal, its magic a defiant middle finger to the court’s sanctimonious prigs.

“Good evening, you saucy minx,” Verity purred, her voice a teasing lilt, a twinkle tugging her lips as she twirled Aurelia between her fingers. The vibrator hummed softly, its golden glow flickering amber, with a teasing gleam. She parted her legs and trailed Aurelia along her inner thigh, its warmth teasing. Aurelia sensed her mood—defiant, playful, craving a game—and adjusted, its hum shifting to a slow, taunting pulse that made her breath catch. “Oh, you’re feeling cheeky tonight,” Verity murmured, her smirk widening as Aurelia’s glow throbbed brighter, like it was daring her to keep up. The spring’s magic wove with Aurelia’s resonance, tingling across her skin, amplifying the heat coiling low in her belly.

She pressed Aurelia higher, brushing her folds, and let out a soft moan as it vibrated faster, curving slightly to tease just shy of where she wanted it. “Teasing me, are you?” Verity chuckled, her voice dripping with mock reproach, her smile. “You’ll have to beg for my praise, minx.” Aurelia hummed louder, like it was laughing at her challenge, and shifted to a deeper, rolling throb that sent a shiver through her. The vibrator’s resonance amplified her pleasure, a defiant pulse that drowned out the court’s schemes—Percival’s tacky waistcoats, Gertrude’s poisoned bonbons, the whispers of her “unseemly” widowhood. Verity arched, guiding Aurelia with a teasing touch, breaking into a gasp as pleasure built, the spring’s steam curling like a partner in their game.

But a crack of branches shattered the spell—Percival’s goons, their lanterns bobbing through the trees, their gruff voices muttering about “tracking the viper.” Verity’s eyes flashed. “Rude,” she thought, scrambling to her feet, her gown tangling at her hips. Aurelia, slick and buzzing, seemed to sense the interruption and took its chance to play dirty. It slipped from her fingers, tumbling into the spring with a defiant splash, its golden glow sinking fast, pulsing mockingly in the depths like a taunting giggle. “You little brat!” Verity hissed, her voice a mix of frustration and amusement, her lips twitching as Aurelia’s hum echoed, cheeky and unrepentant.

She waded into the warm water, the spring’s currents swirling around her legs, her gown clinging like a second skin. “Think you can run from me?” she muttered, diving after Aurelia’s glow. The vibrator darted deeper, its hum a saucy taunt, as if daring her to chase. Verity’s fingers brushed its surface, but it slipped away, glowing brighter, like it was playing a flirty game of keep-away. The goons’ lanterns drew closer, their boots crunching, and Verity’s pulse raced—not just for Aurelia’s loss, but for its power. Zephyr’s hint that it was stolen from a sorceress lingered, and in the wrong hands, its resonance could twist hearts or expose hers. She surfaced, water streaming, pursed lips tinged with exasperation, when a silky voice slithered through the steam.

“Lost your naughty playmate, love?” A sleek frog perched on a lily pad, its emerald skin glinting, eyes twinkling. It tilted its head, practically grinning. “My name is Cassian, and that toy’s singing my song. I’ll fetch it, but you’ll owe me a midnight bath—the spring’s magic needs us both, and your ‘minx’ is all for it.” Aurelia’s glow flared below, its hum surging, like it was cheering him on. Verity’s smile widened, her dominance flaring with a teasing edge. A talking frog and her runaway toy? Oh, this was a game she’d win. “You think you and my saucy toy can bargain with me?” she asked, leaning forward. “You’ll both be begging for my favor by midnight, frog.”

Cassian chuckled, low and suggestive, his eyes dancing. “We’ll see who begs, my lady.” Aurelia’s hum throbbed, bright and impish, like it was taking his side. Verity straightened, water dripping, and glanced at the goons’ retreating lanterns—Percival’s men, likely distracted by another feather-flinging waistcoat fiasco. “Midnight, then,” she said, striding from the spring, her mind alight with plans. Aurelia wasn’t just a toy—it was her partner in rebellion, her taunting ally, and now, apparently, a matchmaker for a frog with a silver tongue. Percival’s schemes, Zephyr’s cryptic gift, and the court’s vipers could wait. Tonight, she’d teach Aurelia and this Cassian who held the reins, and she’d do it with a smile.

The spring lit up like a sapphire drunk on moonlight, its warm waters shimmering with a magic that slithered across Lady Verity’s skin, teasing her senses. Steam curled into the night like a lover’s breath, wrapping her in a sultry haze. The moon spilled silver down the rocks, transforming the grove into a decadent stage—her stage. She stood at its edge, sheer silk shift clinging to her curves in a whisper of temptation, her dark eyes gleaming with delight. A mischievous smile coiled at her lips as she twirled Aurelia—humming, glowing, eager. The artifact, that saucy minx, had been fished from the spring’s depths by her gallant amphibian. And now? Now it was time to make both toy and man squirm.

Man—yes. Undeniably so.

Cassian stood poised on a moss-slick rock, tall and trembling, water sliding down his chiseled frame. His chest glistened in the moonlight, droplets tracing the cut of new muscle, and his dark hair hung in wet, curling strands around his jaw. He was no longer the sleek frog who’d chased Aurelia’s errant glow through the water—but a creature shaped by enchantment and intent. And his length stirred visibly under her gaze.

He’d earned that kiss, hadn’t he? Triumphant and damp, the frog had surfaced, clinging to the trinket and demanding payment.

“A kiss?” she’d teased, one brow arched. “You and this imp think you’ve earned my lips?”

But she’d given it—pressing her mouth to his cool, smooth skin in a reckless spark of whim. Aurelia had flared, its hum rising like a chant, and then the spring exploded with light. When the brilliance faded, Cassian stood in the frog’s place.

Now he flexed his limbs like they were new clothes he wasn’t certain fit. Pride curled his spine, but instinct licked at the edges—he looked like he might bolt. Verity watched the flicker behind his eyes: the echo of self-reliance, the ghost of rebellion. Hunger warred with hesitation. When she twirled Aurelia again and her grin sharpened, something inside him softened. His chin lifted—not in defiance, but in surrender.

Yes, she thought. He wants to win—but not more than he wants to kneel.

“Well, sweet frog,” she purred, stepping into the shallows. The water lapped at her calves, warm and coaxing. “You’ve fetched my minx. But if you think that earns you a mere thank-you...” She held Aurelia aloft. It pulsed like a heartbeat with secrets, golden and smug. “You and this troublemaker are in my court now. And I am a queen who expects a proper offering.”

Cassian’s smile was slow, deep, soaked in longing. “Name your price, viper,” he said, his voice thick with need.

Aurelia gave a saucy buzz, its glow flickering like a wink, and Verity arched a brow.

“Oh, you’ll see,” she murmured, circling him, hips swaying with deliberate provocation. Steam curled around her like a conspirator. She dragged Aurelia’s tip down his arm, hovering just above his skin—close enough for him to feel the hum, not close enough for contact. The air between them vibrated with promise. “Think you can handle me, frog?” she whispered, her breath brushing his ear. “Or will Aurelia outshine you before you even try?”

Aurelia purred, its glow blooming with mischief.

Cassian’s breath hitched, but he stood his ground. That stillness thrilled her more than any plea. She twirled Aurelia in her fingers, then drew it back to herself, pressing the artifact to her collarbone. Its buzz rippled through her skin—a soft, sultry tremor that made her sigh.