DRAVEN
I watched her get dressed, flaunting her body, her eyes never leaving mine through the mirror.
"Help me with my dress," she called to me, her voice like venomous honey.
My fist clenched but I made my way to her and pulled the laces of her corset tight, my fingers moving with practiced efficiency. The fabric strained against her skin, cinching her waist into the shape she preferred for tonight's gathering.
She pushed back against me deliberately, her body pressing into mine in a way that made my jaw lock.
I felt the arousal spike despite the disgust churning in my stomach. My body responded to the proximity, to the warmth and pressure, even as my mind recoiled from who was offering it.
Circe. My Luna. The woman I'd been bound to by politics and desperation, not choice. The woman who'd replaced Althea in my bed but never in my thoughts.
"You're tense," she purred, her hand reaching back to touch my thigh. "Perhaps you need to relax before the council arrives."
