"How long am I supposed to wait for you, dammit?" Ryuzaki's voice cut through the peaceful atmosphere, every word sharp with barely contained fury. "I'm the master here, not you!"
Blazar jolted awake so violently that water sloshed over the sides of the tub in small tsunamis, splashing across the marble floor with sounds like gunshots in the sudden silence.
For one heart-stopping, mind-blanking second, she forgot everything—her carefully constructed disguise, her precarious position, even the most basic rules of self-preservation that had kept her alive this long.
A shriek tore from her throat before she could stop it, high-pitched and unmistakably, undeniably feminine in its pure panic. The sound seemed to hang in the steamy air like an accusation.
Her hands flew across her chest in a movement so instinctive it was practically involuntary, scrambling for anything to cover herself, to hide, to make this moment un-happen through sheer desperate force of will.
