Vaughn's voice sends a jolt through my system.
He never comes to my room at night.
We have our routine—breakfast, I disappear to the library, dinner, I come back here.
He doesn't intrude on this space.
Until now.
My heart is suddenly pounding. "What?"
"May I come in?"
No. Absolutely not. "Why?"
"I want to talk to you about something."
"We can talk tomorrow at breakfast."
A pause. Long enough that I think he might leave. "This is... private. Personal. I'd rather discuss it now, if you're willing."
Private. Personal.
Those words send a shiver down my spine that I don't want to examine too closely.
"I'm in my pajamas," I say. Like that matters. Like that's a barrier that means anything.
"That's fine. I'll give you a minute to put on a robe if you'd like. I'm not here to make you uncomfortable, Eden."
I look down at the silk pajamas.
They're modest—long pants, long-sleeved top, buttons up the front.
But they're still pajamas.
Still intimate in a way that makes this feel dangerous.
I grab the robe hanging on the bathroom door. It matches the pajamas, same soft silk, and I pull it on and tie it tightly around my waist.
Armor.
Even if it's just silk that wouldn't protect me from anything.
"Okay," I call, my voice not as steady as I want it to be.
The door opens slowly.
Vaughn steps inside and closes it behind him, and suddenly my bedroom feels much smaller than it did a moment ago.
He's changed from his usual suit.
Now he's wearing dark pants and a black t-shirt, casual in a way I've never seen him.
The shirt fits close to his body, showing the breadth of his shoulders, the strength in his arms, the lean muscle of his chest and stomach.
At the Sanctuary, men and women dressed modestly.
Loose clothing that hid the shape of the body.
