Running from hell isnʼt easy. Especially when thereʼs someone dragging you back down into it.
Belligerent, brash and always in shades of black, Freya is hardly a lady. Hidden away by her father, sheʼs lived a normal life despite being born into the...
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I WAKE UP WITH my body aching. There was no way I was sleeping in that guest room. If I did — if I just meekly followed through with his orders, it would be like I was fitting right into the devil’s plan. Like admitting defeat way too quickly.
So when I found Rhaegar in his room on his giant cot after taking a shower, I figured, what the hell?
I petted him for a while and then laid down next to him gingerly to see if he’d growl and chase me away, but he didn’t. He just snuggled up closer, like a giant, breathing teddy bear. And okay, maybe it was a bit cramped. But sleeping next to him made me feel less alone. And cold.
Seriously, the dog was a living water bottle. And somewhere between all of it, I fell asleep. Now it’s the morning, and sunlight pours through the windows, making me squint hard as I peel my eyes open.
I hear panting and look up to find Rhaegar circling me, his tail wagging eagerly. Was he waiting for me to wake up?
My question is answered when he notices I’m awake and bounds to me, licking at me ferociously. I laugh, trying to fight him off but it’s useless, so I just send my hand down his pelt, petting him. “Hey, big guy. Thanks for letting me crash last night.”
After a good few minutes of attention, he’s finally satisfied, and he trots back, letting me get up on my feet. I pet his head for a few more seconds, making sure to get that spot he seems to like, then sigh as I return back to reality.
When I walk out of the room, I can hear the faint sound of a shower running upstairs, and my face turns sour.
He’s here. Torren.
He must have come back last night after I fell asleep.
A slow grin touches my lips. Torren Costa is going to wish he never forced me into his house. Or his life.
I grab my toothbrush and a change of clothes from my room and pad up the stairs with bare feet, tracing my steps back to his room. The sound of the shower grows louder as I get closer, and when I’m finally at the entrance of the bathroom, I take a deep breath and enter it.
I can only see the outline of his body through the fogged up shower glass, and I try my best not to drag my eyes too far down. The masculine scent of his body wash permeates the air — fresh soap, white musk, and flashes of citrus.
His figure freezes the moment I enter, and even though his back is turned to me, he knows I’m here.
The fog makes the glass screen of the shower hazy, but there’s no mistaking the thick, corded muscles in his back and the smooth caramel skin coating them. If I didn’t have a mortal hatred for the man, I might be able to appreciate his form more.
I was expecting some sort of reaction from him, but… nothing. I could be here to kill him for all he knows, but he doesn’t seem to care as he continues showering, blatantly ignoring me.
