When Nelle Wychthorn was forced to sign herself away in marriage, she should have read the contract's fine print. Because she signs not with ink, but with blood. And that changes everything.
Season 1 'Of Crows and Thorns'
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Fiery Nelle, the isolat...
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I glared at Graysen, my gratefulness quickly dissolving. He really had wanted to see my tits!
"In your dreams, Crowther!"
His smirk only grew wider.
I stomped into my walk-in closet and found myself a set of underwear and a crisp shirtdress in white.
"Oh hells, no. I don't think so," he grumbled, rolling off the bed when he spied what I held in my hands. He stormed into the small room. I skipped back, but he was too quick, grabbing the dress off of me, scowling at it as if it offended him, and was a hairbreadth from shredding it to strips.
"What is your problem?" Frowning, I snatched the dress back. What was so wrong with this dress?
He studied my face thoughtfully before replying petulantly, "I'd hoped you'd carry on the evening in the fluffy robe."
I clutched the dress protectively in my hands. "Why?"
He took one long step forward. I yielded several back. My spine hit the chest of drawers behind me with a jarring jolt. One more step and he was flush with me, our bodies almost touching.
Holy fucking hells-gate, it was hot in here. I flapped the neck of my bathrobe trying to get cool. The air had seemingly risen twenty degrees. Had someone fiddled with the air-conditioning unit? No, I knew it was because he was right in my personal space and hunger swirled between us. Holy Skalki, have mercy on me, but I was finding it increasingly difficult to resist this man.
Graysen's nostrils flared and delight lit his eyes. His hand lowered, and a pinched thumb and middle finger ran down the edge of my bathrobe to the V where the material overlapped at my cleavage. The backs of his fingers grazed my exposed flesh, blazing a trail of heat down my chest. "It's the tightest thing I've ever seen you in, and there's this gap right at your cleav—"
"Enough!" I held up a hand to stop him.
"But, I—"
"Stop right there. I don't want to hear anything more from you about my tits and ass—"
"And puss—"
I shrieked and clamped my hand over his mouth before he could finish. "Don't you dare finish that thought!"
But he murmured between my fingers, "Wet and pink and very pretty." Wagging his thick black brows, he added, "Well, that's how it looks in my imagination."
I closed my eyes.
Just breathe in and out, in and out—
A sharp knocking came from the door to my quarters, startling us both.
"Who the fuck is that?" Graysen growled.
I had an awful feeling I knew exactly who it would be.
With three daughters, my father wisely knew not to just walk in unannounced. I opened up my bedroom door to find him standing at the threshold. It was rather petty of me, but I refused to let him enter. His sharp gaze took me in—dressed in a bathrobe—then Graysen leaning against the door frame beside me, his size swallowing the space.
