Elysia exhaled as she stepped out of the bathroom, her fingers still gripping the edge of the towel wrapped around her body.
Her mind was reeling.
They had done it again.
She had let it happen again.
Her skin still tingled from Malvoria's touch, her legs felt weak, and if she closed her eyes for even a second, she could still feel the heat of Malvoria's mouth trailing over her neck, her lips pressing against places they shouldn't.
This was dangerous.
It was becoming a habit.
One she should run from.
One she should avoid.
And yet…
Elysia swallowed hard, shaking off the thought.
She had more pressing matters at the moment.
Like the fact that she was still in Malvoria's room.
And that she had nothing to wear.
Her gaze swept across the chamber, the air heavy with a quiet kind of power.
The room was massive but cold, its walls a deep, stormy gray, the stone smooth and polished. There were no paintings, no unnecessary embellishments—everything was precise, controlled.
