I dragged a hand through my hair, fighting the urge to close the distance between us. To crush her to me.
She stepped closer. One slow step. Then another. Close enough that her scent wrapped around me instantly. What was she wearing under that robe?
My control was hanging by a thread now.
"Did you complete your tasks?" I asked. I would not be able to let her out of my sight again. Not without mating cuffs around her wrists. And mine.
Her lips curved again—slow, deliberate, dangerous. "For now. I missed you, too."
The beast roared with approval inside my mind.
"Have you ever taken a bubble bath, Warlord? These rooms have some very big bathtubs."
For a moment my brain refused to function at the abrupt change of subject. Then an image slammed into my mind with brutal clarity. Tori submerged in warm, soapy water. Her bare skin glistening as I held her. Her body relaxed and open and mine to touch as hot water flowed over my skin.
The beast roared.
"I have not. Are we indulging in this bubble bath?"
She nodded.
“When?”
"Now." She untied the belt of her robe. The silk slid open. Naked. She was naked.
Mine. The beast lunged.
I forgot how to breathe. I pulled her inside and slammed the door, dragging her against me. "You are trying to kill me," I rasped.
Her smile turned wicked. "I'm trying to seduce you." She lifted one brow. "Is it working?"
My hands framed her face as I crushed my mouth to hers.
The kiss stole the breath from my lungs. She tasted like mint and sweetness and the one thing my body had craved for three endless days. Her arms wrapped around my neck instantly, pulling me closer as she melted against me with desperate hunger.
"Is that kiss your answer?" she whispered against my mouth.
"Yes." The single word was rough. Final. She was in my arms. The beast settled as I carried her to the bath.
11
Tori
* * *
Another day with Chet Bosworth meant another catastrophe. Today's humiliation came with wings.
They were enormous—gauzy, iridescent things strapped to my back with thin ribbons that bit into my shoulders every time I moved. When I shifted my weight they fluttered behind me, brushing the back of my arms like restless insects. The effect was supposed to be magical. Delicate. Enchanting.
Instead, I looked like a decorative lawn ornament someone had dragged into a ballroom.
The dress didn't help.
Pink tulle exploded around my hips in aggressive layers, the fabric so stiff it rustled when I breathed. The bodice squeezed my ribs until every inhale felt shallow and carefully rationed. Rhinestones glittered across the neckline, catching the lights overhead and scattering little flashes across the walls.
Fairy sparkle, the wardrobe team had called it. I called it a suffocation hazard.
And the crown. The crown was the final insult.
