She looked at him.
Really looked at him.
At the violet eyes.
At the pale skin.
At the tail that moved with the same patient intelligence as his gaze.
And she felt it.
The overwhelming, crushing, suffocating weight of his blood power.
It pressed against her like a physical force, making her knees weak, making her pussy clench, making her heart stutter. She had served the matriarch. She had knelt before that power. And now it was here, in her bathroom, naked and erect and looking at her with the eyes of a prince.
She fell.
Her knees hit the tile with a wet, heavy slap, her body collapsing under the weight of the revelation. But even as she fell, her hand shot out and grabbed his—her thick, strong fingers closing around his pale, long ones with the desperate strength of a drowning woman.
She closed her eyes.
Her whole body shook.
