He pointed a finger at her chest, his gaze burning into hers.
"You carry it. Pure, even though it is only half. You are the most eligible person for a true heir this clan will ever have."
A flush crept up Sigora's neck, staining her brown skin a deeper shade.
Her breath hitched.
This wasn't in her carefully laid plans.
"Jorghan… that is… inappropriate. I am your aunt. Your guardian. The clan's stability requires legitimate, recognized partnerships with other houses. What you're suggesting is…"
"Me…at this age…"
"Necessary," he finished for her, taking another step.
The space between them crackled.
The scent of her, warm herbs and sun-baked skin, filled his senses, mingling with the lingering musk.
"You think Madayanti's child will be a Sol'vur? It will be an Amasurata with a dash of our power. A bargaining chip.
I need a foundation.
I need you."
She shook her head, taking a half-step back, her wide hips bumping against the edge of the heavy table.
