Two girls. Two secrets.
Only one can survive.
Years before Nelle Wychthorn plans her escape, Tabitha Catt may unearth something in a Horned God's lair that is the key to freedom.
Desperate to save her beloved aunt from a dark curse, Tabitha is out t...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
My chest swelled with a deep breath and before I could change my mind I quickly undid the buttons of my peacoat and slipped it off along with my Jelly shoes. I neatly folded my coat and placed it on a bed of reeds tucked around the base of a willow tree, and set my shoes tidily beside it.
Varen blinked rapidly, seemingly surprised that I was actually going to go through with this, and ripped into motion himself. Tossing the mat down onto the damp grass, along with the torch, he removed his shoes and socks, tugged his tie free, and shrugged out of his expensive suit jacket and shirt, flinging them all into an untidy pile beside mine. He stood before me bare-chested before I'd even reached an arm behind me for the zipper of my dress.
Holy. Holy. Holy. Freaking. Hells.
I tried not to be obvious with my leering, but I couldn't help but stare wide-eyed at the distinctive cut of the delicious vee lines angling toward the belt buckle, which he was now undoing. His hair flopped forward and his shoulders rounded as he looked downward. The leather flicked forward as he deftly undid the metal prong, a pop of a button, the zipper whirring down before he quickly shoved his pants off and kicked them away.
He stood before me in only black boxer briefs and they did nothing to hide his masculinity.
I'd never seen a man almost naked before me.
Ever.
Varen was like one of those brutal gladiators, prowling around an arena, the sand splattered with blood. So big and burley and obscenely muscled. Tattoos curled up his jawline and down both arms, the black ink cut around the sides of his rib cage. Holy Zrenyth. Playgirl would make a fortune if Varen were laid across their glossy centerspread.
"Careful, Miss Catt, you're drooling."
Mortified, I touched the sides of my mouth, dabbing a finger here and there, finding nothing before I realized he was messing with me. Because for a long, long moment I was mentally drowning in girl drool. He was so freaking hot. So, so, so hot.
I couldn't look at him when I carefully let my dress slide down my figure to pool at my feet in a ripple of blue. I slowly stepped out of it so I stood before him in just my underwear. My cheeks scorched with a blush as I crouched down to pick up my dress, rolling it up and putting it on top of my peacoat. Rising, I partly laced my fingers together with my arms and hands trying to cover all the important parts of my body I was hesitant to show, even if they were hidden behind a layer of boring beige fabric.
Bending over, he scooped up the car mat and I caught a glimpse of the tattoos gracing his back. "Ready?"
"Yes, I replied, tentatively meeting his gaze beneath the fringes of my long eyelashes. The way he was staring at me, with heavily lidded eyes gone dark, sent a spark crackling down my spine to set my lower belly aflame.
He smiled slowly, biting his lower lip.
I frowned. "What's with the smile?"
He wiggled his eyebrows. "I can see your nipples through the bra."
