"Master…"
Darithi stood rigidly outside the heavy mahogany door, her posture perfectly straight but her breathing shallow. She watched intently as the tall, broad-shouldered figure of Cruxius finally exited. A heavy, unmistakable scent drifted out with him—a dark, intoxicating mix of his expensive cologne, sweat, and the lingering, sweet musk of raw intimacy.
He approached her with a lazy, sated grace, effortlessly draping his tailored coat over his slightly wrinkled white shirt. His long, calloused fingers fastened his luxury watch before dropping lower, deliberately adjusting his leather belt right over his taut, V-lined waist.
There was a noticeable hesitation in her husky voice—understandable, considering she had returned to the room half an hour ago, only to be firmly denied entry. It was something that had never happened before.
