[Leif's POV — Chamber, continuation]
My brain? Dead. My heart? Doing backflips. My soul? Already packing bags for the afterlife.
Because the Grand Duke—Alvar "Iceberg McFrosty" himself—was hovering so close his breath fogged against my lips.
I squeaked. Actually squeaked. Like a rubber duck thrown into boiling water. "Y-you—you can't just—say scary things—while looking THIS CLOSE!!!"
His eyes narrowed, frostfire blazing, voice low enough to crawl straight into my spine. "Scary? Or true?"
Damn it!!
That sounded way too much like a confession. Or a threat. Or both. Honestly, what's the difference when it comes from him?!
"G-grand duke!" I flailed, pressing my back against the headboard like it could swallow me into Narnia. "This is—you're—are you trying to seduce me or execute me because the vibes are VERY CONFUSING RIGHT NOW."
He didn't move back. Not even an inch. "You said Roland was your 'husband material,'" he said, jaw tight. "You don't need him. Or anyone else."
