Auctioned by the Gods: Rebirth of the Harem Emperor

Ren didn't remember stumbling through the next doorway.Didn't remember the lanterns, the carved latticework, the fragrant bowls of nightbloom set on low marble tables.

All he remembered was Lyra's hand in his — small, trembling, but determined — as she led him deeper into the dark.

When the door clicked shut behind them, the silence pressed in. A waiting hush.

Lyra turned to him then, silver hair tumbling wild around her shoulders. Her chest heaved, breath shallow, eyes wide. For a heartbeat they just stood there, staring, the enormity of what was about to happen thickening the air.

Then she whispered, "Touch me first. Not because I'm divine. Because I'm yours."

His restraint shattered.

Ren crossed the space in two long strides, hands seizing her waist, hauling her flush against him. Their mouths met with a bruising crash — teeth clashing, breath mixing hot and desperate.

Lyra whimpered into the kiss, her fingers tangling in his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan. He cupped her face, angling her head so he could taste her deeper, tongues sliding, chasing every soft sound she gave him.

Her skin was fever-warm under his hands as they trailed lower, over the elegant curve of her hips, then around to clutch her bare backside. She arched into him with a gasp, her thighs pressing together like she was trying to quell the ache there.

"Don't hide it," he rasped against her lips. "Let me see how badly you want this."

A breathy, broken laugh escaped her. Then her hands found the clasps of his robes. Her touch fumbled in her urgency — nails scraping accidentally over his chest, making him hiss.

When the last layer fell, he stood naked before her, muscles tense, scars catching faint lamplight. For a heartbeat he almost covered himself. Some old soldier's instinct to shield the vulnerable parts.

But Lyra's gaze turned molten.

"Oh," she whispered. Her hands rose, fingers ghosting over his shoulders, down his ribs, lower still until he shuddered. "I've seen you fight, Ren Zian. I've seen you bleed. I've seen you tear apart gods. But nothing is as dangerous as you like this."

Her words punched the air from his lungs. He surged forward, capturing her mouth again, walking her back until she hit the bed.

They tumbled onto it in a tangle of limbs, Lyra beneath him, her legs falling open instinctively to cradle his hips. The thin press of her center against him was torture — a slick, searing promise that had him grinding down with a low growl.

"Please," she gasped, hands scrambling at his back. "Don't be careful. I don't want careful."

He obeyed.

Ren kissed down her throat, teeth scraping lightly over the delicate pulse there. She let out a tiny shocked cry that turned into a moan when he sucked a mark just above her collarbone. Her hips bucked up, seeking more friction.

Lower still, he worshipped the soft slope of her breasts with open-mouthed kisses, tongue circling a pebbled peak until she was writhing under him.

"Ren—"

Her voice cracked, breath hitching when he rolled a nipple between his lips. Her back arched beautifully off the bed, pressing her chest further into his mouth. He lavished the same hungry attention on the other, savoring the way she shook beneath him.

By the time he lifted his head, her eyes were glassy with need, lips parted on shaky breaths.

He rocked his hips forward deliberately, letting the thick length of him slide against her slick heat. Her entire body jolted.

"Oh gods," she whimpered.

"You're already so wet for me," he groaned, forehead pressing to hers. "I could take you right now and you'd break around me in seconds."

"Then do it," she whispered fiercely. Her nails dug into his shoulders. "I want to break for you."

His control snapped.

Ren reached between them, guiding himself to her entrance. The blunt head of him caught, nudging through soaked folds. Lyra's breath stuttered, her legs wrapping tighter around his waist.

"Look at me," he ordered roughly.

Her lashes fluttered up. Their eyes locked.

Then he pushed in.

Lyra's mouth fell open on a silent gasp. Her inner walls clutched at him, impossibly hot, impossibly tight, every inch a tormenting pull. He had to grit his teeth, fighting the instinct to thrust hard and fast.

When he was fully seated inside her, buried to the hilt, they both just trembled. Her nails scored his skin. His arms bracketed her shoulders, muscles cording as he struggled to keep still.

"You're… gods, you're perfect," he choked. "So perfect, Lyra."

She let out a shaky laugh that dissolved into a moan when he shifted slightly. "Then move. Please, Ren— I want to feel all of you."

He drew back, slow agony, then drove forward again. Her answering cry was pure music, echoing off the high walls. He set a deep, steady rhythm, each thrust pushing them higher, Lyra meeting him eagerly with soft, desperate noises that made his blood burn.

Her hands roamed everywhere — clutching his back, cupping his jaw to drag him into breathless kisses, clawing lightly down his sides when he hit just right.

"Don't stop," she gasped against his lips. "I need— I need—"

"I know," he panted. His hand slipped between them, finding the swollen bud of her desire. The moment he pressed down, she shattered — back arching in a gorgeous, helpless bow, her walls fluttering wildly around him.

The sight, the feel, the way she sobbed his name — it undid him completely. With a hoarse growl, he drove into her once, twice more, then spilled inside her in hot, pulsing waves.

They collapsed together, tangled and sweating, hearts racing so wildly he couldn't tell where his ended and hers began.

Lyra was still trembling when he eased out and gathered her close, tucking her against his chest. She didn't speak — only pressed tiny, open-mouthed kisses along his throat, her breath shaky and sweet.

When she finally found words, they were barely more than a breath.

"Promise me we'll never become what they tried to make us."

His throat closed. He pressed his lips to her temple.

"Never," he vowed hoarsely. "Not as long as you keep choosing me."

Long into the night, they lay there — skin slick, limbs intertwined, hearts slowly finding a calmer rhythm.

And for the first time since the gods branded him a pawn, Ren Zian didn't feel chained to fate.

He felt chained only to her — by soft hands, tear-wet kisses, and a promise neither divinity nor destiny could ever unmake.

🌸 Author's Note:Hey, dear readers — thank you for staying with Ren and Lyra through every scar, every kiss, and every chain they're breaking together. 💔🔥If you're enjoying their journey, please add this book to your library — it helps more than you can imagine and shows me you want to see how far their story will burn.

I promise the next trials will be even more intense — for their hearts and for this entire divine realm.

💫 Tap that "+Add to Library" or "Collections" button.Let's defy the gods together. 🖤