Jarek didn't move. He didn't look away. Instead, he kicked the door shut behind him, the heavy thud echoing like a gavel. He began to unbutton his cuffs slowly, with terrifying calmness.
"There is nothing to be ashamed of in a house that belongs to me, Elowen," he rasped and his voice became a vibration that seemed to hum right through the mattress and into my bones.
He stepped closer, the scent of bergamot and raw power intensifying until it was all I could breathe. He reached out, his large hand wrapping around the wrist I was using to clutch the duvet.
He didn't pull me but the silent command was there.
"And why," he whispered, leaning down until his lips were inches from my ear, "would you settle for a piece of cloth when the entire meal is standing right in front of you?"
The duvet fell.
"Finally! Let the liar take what the thief didn't want. Let us feel something other than the cold." Nyla purred shamelessly.
