“I’m done,” I murmured.
“We should go to bed.”
“I need to change. Can you, um, turn around?”
Kairos hauled himself upright, passing close to me as he crossed to the window.
I fumbled with the clasp at my back, the rustle of silk deafening.Get undressed. It doesn’t mean anything.
“Need help?” he asked.
“I’m fine.” I tugged at the clasp. “Ouch.”
My finger scraped against metal. I tried again, twisting to reach it. I exhaled roughly. Then a cool whisper teased my spine as his mist worked, like invisible fingers tracing my skin.
“Kairos,” I whispered.
“It’s just my magic.”
“Then why does it feel like your hands?”
“My magic is an extension of me.”
The tendrils stroked me as they peeled the fabric down my arms. My waist. The dress pooled in a blanket of fog, then floated toward thecloset.
I needed to cover myself. Now.
I knelt, fumbling through my bag. Where was it? There—the nightdress. I yanked it out and stood, pulling it over my head. The dress settled over my body.
Gods, it clung everywhere. It might’ve been painted on. The neckline hung low between my breasts. The hem barely reached mid-thigh. It was worse than being naked.
What is wrong with me? Why didn’t I bring something else?
Kairos turned. His eyes dragged up from my bare thighs over the curve of my hips. He pulled off his mantle, dropping it to the floor. Then he unbuttoned his tunic, revealing a strip of pale muscle.
My mouth went dry.
He shrugged the tunic off, and it flowed down his powerful shoulders. Runes ribboned across his chest, his ribs—every inch of him ink, scars, and power.
His hands went to his waist. Then he glanced up and caught me staring. Kairos watched me, still gripping his belt. He didn’t break eye contact as his fingers worked the buckle. The leather slid, a whisper on my skin.
His belt hit the ground. Then his hands dropped to his waistband. I stared, mesmerized by the shift of muscles as he pushed the fabric down.
The trousers fell.
I whirled around, pulse racing. It was like someone had cracked me open and poured liquid fire inside. I ran to the bed, slipping under the covers.
Moments later, the mattress dipped. It shifted again as he slipped under the blankets. Oh gods. He was there. Inches from me. I dug my nails into my palms. Breathed evenly through my nose.
I peeked.
No. Don’t.
Kairos lay on his back, the blanket pooled below his chest. One hand rested on his stomach, the other behind his head. His face tipped toward the ceiling.
The ache wouldn’t stop. Breathing was too hard. The silk nightdress clung, reminding me of how exposed I was. I could hear him breathing. Slow. Even. Fighting for control.
Tomorrow, I’d walk into that court and make everyone believe we were lovers, but the real charade was happening right here.
