The Seven Sisters and Their Hidden King

Queenie stared into John's eyes, unwilling to back down.

She knew perfectly well that he couldn't actually do anything to her right now, so she leaned in close—deliberately provocative.

Her lips brushed near his ear, her warm breath tickling him, making his entire body tense. He turned his head sharply, locking eyes with her.

Even at such an intimate distance, Queenie's beauty was flawless. Her creamy white skin looked like it had been sculpted from the finest marble. Her long lashes trembled subtly, and her bright, round eyes shimmered like rippling water.

John's face flushed. He quickly averted his gaze to hide it—but unfortunately, his eyes landed squarely on the curve of her chest beneath her nightgown.

Her skin was so pale, so flawless, it dazzled him. Like polished porcelain.

And she knew it.

She didn't move to cover herself. Instead, she narrowed her eyes and smirked.

"Hmph. What's the point of staring?" she sneered. "You can't even touch it, you big eunuch."

Big eunuch?

What the hell?!