Auctioned by the Gods: Rebirth of the Harem Emperor

The next day in Miraye's palace felt different.Not because the courtiers or the molten rivers of glass had changed — but because the very air seemed to pulse, thick with some expectant hush. Demons bowed lower as Ren passed, eyes tracking him with unsettling fascination. Even the walls seemed to lean closer, as if the entire realm itself was holding its breath.

Lyra felt it too. She stayed pressed to his side nearly all morning, her hand hooked in his belt, as if ready to wrench him back from some unseen precipice.

"It's coming," she whispered against his shoulder. "She's found her angle."

By midday, the summons arrived.A pale demon attendant — faceless, features smoothed over like wax — knelt at their feet and presented a scroll bound in coiling silver ribbons.

"Ren Zian," it read in looping crimson script.

*"I grow tired of games played for the amusement of lesser eyes.

Come to me. Alone.

Your goddess may wait in your chamber, if she has the trust to let you prove your strength unobserved."*

— Miraye, Queen of the Sixth Veil

Lyra's breath hissed through her teeth. Her grip on his arm became painfully tight. "She dares think to separate us—"

"It's what she was always building toward," Ren murmured. He met her furious gaze, smoothing a hand along her cheek. "She wants to see if I can truly stand without you beside me. If my vows crack when no eyes are there to hold me accountable."

Lyra's eyes glistened. "What if she tries to touch you? To carve her power into you where I can't burn it away?"

"Then she learns just how many scars I'm willing to take to keep my promises." His smile was slow, dark. "Trust me."

Her jaw clenched. Then she crushed her mouth to his in a bruising kiss, biting his lower lip hard enough to taste blood. When she pulled back, her voice was hoarse. "I do. Even if it kills me."

The faceless attendant led him through a maze of silent hallways. Torches burned with cold green fire, casting gnarled shadows that slithered across the floors. Finally they reached a towering door of dark wood inlaid with twisting runes.

The demon gestured. "Enter. She awaits."

Then it vanished — quite literally folding into itself like collapsing cloth.

Ren pushed open the door.Inside was nothing like the throne rooms or banquet halls. It was intimate — almost sinfully so. Dark drapes hung heavy on the walls, lanterns spilling lazy pools of gold across plush carpets. A brazier burned with fragrant smoke that made his pulse hitch the moment he inhaled.

Miraye reclined on a wide lounge, draped in robes that were more suggestion than clothing. Thin crimson silks slid off her shoulders, baring the high swell of her breasts, the elegant lines of her throat marked by faint ember tattoos that seemed to writhe when he stared too long.

"Lock the door, mortal," she said without rising. Her voice wrapped around his spine, warm and thick. "Let us see what you are when your goddess isn't whispering in your ear."

Ren didn't move. His hand rested on the hilt of the dagger at his belt, thumb stroking the leather.

Miraye laughed softly. "Oh, brave still. Good. I didn't invite you here to threaten or chain. I wanted you to come because you chose to."

She rose, slow and sinuous, crossing the carpet until only a breath of space lay between them. Her scent was maddening — dark flowers, crushed spice, faint smoke. Her nails hovered just above his skin, tracing slow, wicked patterns without touching.

"You could be anything here," she whispered. Her lips brushed his jaw, not quite a kiss. "No gods to judge. No chains to weigh your heart. Only desire. Raw and shameless."

Ren's breath caught. Not from temptation — not fully — but from the sheer magnetic force of her. Miraye radiated an ancient, primal allure that felt like standing at the edge of a roaring abyss. It would be so easy to lean forward. To let her pull him under.

"You think you know my desires," he rasped.

Her mouth curved. "I know you crave power that bows for no one. That when you claimed your goddess, part of you wanted not just her love — but her worship. I could give you more than worship, Ren. I could give you a realm that kneels. A realm that would moan your name as salvation and doom."

She pressed closer. Her thigh slid between his legs, her breath hot against his throat. "Say the word, and I will build you a throne from the hearts of every rival who ever dared slight you. I will carve your name into the stars of this dark sky until even the gods tremble."

Ren's hands rose — not to embrace her, but to grasp her waist and push her back. Hard enough she let out a startled sound, claws digging into his shoulders to keep balance.

His grin was savage. "That's your mistake, Miraye. You think I want a world that kneels. I only ever wanted one goddess who stood. Who would claw me bloody if I tried to chain her."

Miraye's eyes flared. For a heartbeat, something raw and surprised flickered there — then fury chased it away. Her hand shot up, claws tangling in his hair, forcing his head back.

"Then let me taste this defiance," she hissed. Her mouth crashed into his — not gentle, not seductive, but devouring. Her teeth scraped his lower lip, drawing blood that she licked away with a soft groan.

Ren let it happen. Just long enough for her to think she'd won. Then his hands flexed on her hips, turning them sharply. Their positions reversed in a breath — her back against a carved pillar, his body pressing into hers, mouth breaking from hers with a wet, defiant sound.

"You want to test me?" he growled, voice low, dark. His thigh pushed between hers, earning a tiny gasp. "Then feel what it means to hunger and still not bow."

Miraye shivered. Actually shivered. Her nails dug into his arms, eyes blown wide and dark. "You would stand there, pressing me so sweetly, and still refuse to yield?"

"Every time," he rasped. His mouth brushed her ear. "And it makes you burn for me all the more, doesn't it?"

She let out a ragged sound — half snarl, half breathless laugh. "Perhaps. Or perhaps it means I will try all the harder to make you fall."

Ren pulled back enough to meet her eyes, thumb brushing her swollen lower lip. "Then keep trying. I promise I'll make it worth your while to fail."

For one fragile second, Miraye only stared. Then her smile returned, slow, trembling at the edges. "Go," she whispered. Her voice was unsteady. "Return to your goddess. I've tasted enough for today."

He didn't hesitate. Didn't gloat. Only offered a dark, amused look as he stepped away, leaving her leaning against the pillar, chest rising and falling too quickly.

He found Lyra waiting just outside the door. Her eyes were wide, searching his face desperately.

"What did she do?" she demanded.

Ren's grin was pure sin and triumph. "Tried to tempt me. Tasted me a little. Failed spectacularly."

Lyra's relief broke like a wave over her features. Then it shifted into something darker. She seized his hand, dragging him down the corridor.

"Where are we going?" he asked, laughter caught in his voice.

"To make sure the next time she tries to see you come undone, it's with my name on your lips so loud her whole court hears it."

They didn't make it far. Only to a shadowed alcove — and then Lyra pushed him against cold stone, hands greedy, mouth fiercer than any demon's. Her fingers tangled in his tunic, nails raking his chest as if to leave marks Miraye would never dare claim.

Outside, unseen eyes watched. And deep in her private chambers, Miraye pressed trembling fingers to her lips, breathing out a soft, shaken laugh.

"Oh, mortal," she whispered. "You have no idea how close you bring me to worship."