Aurelia's fingers tightened around the latch until her knuckles blanched like polished marble. The chamber's heat pressed in on her—the fire crackling in the hearth, the steam drifting from the bath, the suffocating presence of the man behind her. It all seemed to blur, melt, and throb around the edges.
She turned slowly.
General Rael stood half-perched on the marble rim of his bathing pool, the light catching each sculpted line of his torso. Droplets slid down his skin like molten amber tracing familiar paths. His smile was soft—too soft—the kind that hid claws instead of warmth.
Aurelia felt her pulse leap violently into her throat.
"How," she whispered, "did you recognize me?"
Rael's amusement sharpened, eyes glinting with sleek predator's delight.
"Recognize you?" he repeated with a low laugh. "My dear Aurelia…
She flinched at the endearment.
"..... you think a maid carries herself like that?" he told her oblivious to how she felt.
