actually change theirs…
I shake the thoughts away as I pull the string of the gown at the base of my neck and let the thin material fall away. Cold air bites at my skin, but the steam of the bathwater licks at my flesh invitingly when I step in.
When I look up, deep eyes lock with mine. Only a second does he hold my gaze. Because then his attention falls. He traces the curves of my body with big, hungry attention that I feel against my flesh. I can physically feel his gaze brushing along my shoulders, my breasts, my stomach, my—
“I didn’t leer at your cock when you were naked.” My hands meet my hips hard, and I tilt my head at him accusingly.
“The fuck you didn’t. You looked, measured, and scrapbooked my cock the first moment we met.”
My lips part with outrage, but I can usually conceal my smile with years of practiced articulate anger. But a small smile creases my features anyway. Maybe I did have a peek…or two…or nine. Inches…
What were we talking about?
There’s a heated moment, like the flint of spark just before the blaze, where we’re both staring at one another with something other than hate in our eyes as I sink all the way down into the bath. My head dips below the enchanting waters, and it rejuvenates me in an electric way before I slip back to the surface.
I lift my hand to find every speck of dirt washed away and my skin glowing with a warm touch of magic that I don’t understand in the slightest. The water isn’t heavily fumed with a rose or lilac scent but it cleans me perfectly all the same.
The intensity of Roman’s stare is now alight with a near smirk. His heavy gaze drops down to the inky line of water drifting against my chest, just above the slick curve of my breasts. I feel that look everywhere across my flesh and especially just between my now shifting thighs.
And then…and then the fucking door opens with a jarring slam that rattles the pale chandelier light above the bed.
The moment’s lost. Along with any emotion I might have been stupid enough to imagine that man possessed for me.
“Punishment,” a familiar commanding voice growls.
My chin flings up immediately, and there stands all six foot several inches of Zilo. His brow is hard and lowered over those alluring angry eyes of his. He appears monstrous now. He was massive in height before, but something about the fury in his features turns his size into a creature of impossible stature.
“The Prince says an exiled woman entered the kingdom. Again.” Zilo lingers on that word before continuing. “To teach you to better guard his realm, you’re to be punished… Again.” Once more, that word stings the man’s throat, but he clears it hard and carries on. “On your knees.” He stares head on at Roman, neither of them blinking as I try to process this new bizarre form of alpha’ry. The door closes with a quiet click, and Avian lingers there with several feet separating him from the other two High Hell.
“Again?” Rome says in a lifeless tone that jolts fear into my chest. It’s like I can feel him right now.
And fear is not something I knew he had inside him until this very moment.
“Your Prince commanded it.” Zilo’s jaw clenches hard, his dark five o’clock shadow jumping with the regret that’s lining his face.
Roman drops to his knees, bows his head before his friend, and accepts whatever’s next.
“What—” I nearly get the question out, but it halts on my tongue the second a fiery lined whip lashes out from Zilo’s fist. It snaps across the flesh of Roman’s back with a sizzling cry, and my own soundless cry follows. But I can’t stay silent for long.
I never can.
“Stop it!” I’m leaping from the bath and sliding over the glossy black floorboards before the man even has time to bring the strange flaming whip back for another round. My arms fling out, exposing every inch of myself to him, and I don’t give one fuck what he sees in me. Beauty and lunacy go hand in hand, and I’m a displayed image of that. “Don’t you fucking touch him.”
Wet, pale hair hangs in my eyes, but it doesn’t disrupt my glare or my seriousness.
Zilo searches my face.
Only for a fraction of a second though. “Move,” he growls out in a gravelly tone of violence.
“Move, Cersia,” Avian whispers in agreement.
I