Auctioned by the Gods: Rebirth of the Harem Emperor

Ren woke to warmth.Not the searing, ravenous kind that scorched through every nerve when Lyra was beneath him — but a gentler, slower bloom. The kind that settled in his bones like he'd finally found something to anchor him.

Her breath fanned across his shoulder. Even in sleep, she was pressed close, leg slung possessively over his hip, arm wrapped around his waist. As though some part of her feared he might vanish in the dark.

He turned his head, studying her in the soft spill of lantern light. Pale hair spilled across the pillows, her lashes resting against cheeks still flushed from hours before. Her lips were parted just slightly, full and faintly red from all the times he'd claimed them.

A memory flashed — her eyes glazed with need, voice breaking on his name, body trembling as he pushed her over the edge again and again.

Gods.

He almost stirred at the thought. Almost woke her with another kind of hunger. But then she shifted in her sleep, nuzzling closer with a tiny sigh, and he found he didn't want to steal this rare peace.

So he just held her.

His hand slid up and down her back in slow strokes, tracing the elegant line of her spine, marveling again at how delicate she felt under his rough palm. She was a goddess. A being who had stood on battlefields of starlight, who once commanded entire seasons to bloom at her whim.

But here, tangled with him in sweat-damp sheets, she was just Lyra. Soft, drowsy, heartbreakingly mortal in the vulnerability of sleep.

Eventually her breathing shifted. Her hand flexed against his stomach, a tiny frown pulling at her brow before her eyes blinked open.

"Staring is rude," she mumbled, voice scratchy with sleep.

He huffed a laugh, low and incredulous. "I nearly lost you to a nightmare of my own making. I think I've earned a few minutes of staring."

She groaned, burying her face against his chest. "No, because then you say things like that, and my heart does this awful twisting thing."

"Awful?" he teased.

She tilted her head just enough to meet his eyes, her smile crooked. "Awfully wonderful. Shut up and keep touching me."

He was more than happy to obey. His hand resumed its slow strokes over her back, occasionally drifting down to squeeze her hip. She shivered each time, her lashes fluttering.

"You're so warm," she murmured after a while. "Like you're trying to make up for all the nights you nearly froze your soul to survive."

That startled him. "What?"

Lyra's gaze softened. "You forget, I've watched you longer than you know. Even before the auctions, before the system bound you. You were always so cold, Ren. Even when you stood in sunlight, there was something… brittle. Like you expected everything warm to break or burn you."

His throat closed. He swallowed, tightening his hold on her. "And now?"

"Now," she said, pressing a kiss just over his heart, "I think you're finally letting yourself thaw."

He couldn't speak. Could only bury a hand in her hair, pulling her up to kiss him. Slow, almost lazy, tasting of sleep and shared breaths. It would've been easy to let it spiral into more. His body certainly wanted it — already half hard just from the closeness, from the little sighs she made when his tongue brushed hers.

But Lyra broke away first, cheeks flushed. "Greedy," she accused, though her smile said she loved it.

"You've ruined me," he confessed, voice rough. "I used to dream of conquering realms. Now all I want is this bed, your skin, and maybe a few centuries of this exact moment."

Her laugh was breathless. "Don't tempt me. I'll hold you to that."

Silence stretched, comfortable. Her head returned to his chest, fingers drawing lazy shapes on his stomach. After a while, her hand stilled.

"You'll have to leave soon," she whispered. Not quite a question. More like a truth settling heavy between them.

He closed his eyes. "Yes."

"Aeris won't be the last to test you. The gods will keep pushing, trying to see where you'll bend. Or break."

"And you?" he asked quietly. "Will you keep choosing me, even when it's easier to stay away?"

Her head lifted. For a moment, he feared she'd look uncertain. That she'd hesitate. Instead, she leaned forward, resting her forehead against his.

"When you fought that monstrous version of yourself," she whispered, "I was terrified you'd fail. That you'd come back cold, empty, more shadow than man. And if that had happened… maybe I couldn't have stayed."

His stomach twisted. But before he could speak, she added fiercely:

"But you didn't fail. You came back more human than ever. Bruised, scared, still clinging to things the gods call weaknesses. That's why I'll keep choosing you, Ren. Because you're strong enough to stay soft."

He pulled her into another kiss, deeper this time. It wasn't about seduction. Just a desperate need to keep feeling her heartbeat against his, to anchor himself to something real.

When they broke apart, she pressed tiny kisses along his jaw, then settled back down against him with a content sigh.

They lay like that until the lanterns burned low, until the first fragile gray of dawn edged the windows. Eventually Lyra dozed again, her breathing evening out, warm and steady where she curled against his side.

Ren stayed awake, staring at the ceiling. His thoughts circled darker truths: Amara's prophecy still haunted him. The path ahead was littered with gods who wouldn't accept a mortal rewriting their games.

But then Lyra shifted in her sleep, a small smile curving her lips, her leg tightening possessively over his. And the dread eased.

For now, he could let the world wait. Let the gods gnash their teeth in their high palaces.

Because here, in this quiet room that smelled of nightflowers and skin and something heartbreakingly human, he was only Ren. A man who had chosen love over chains.

And tomorrow — when the next trial inevitably came — he would face it not with icy calculation, but with this memory burned into his bones.

The memory of Lyra wrapped around him, heart beating as if to say: I am here. And I am yours.