Ren took exactly three steps out of the steam-filled cavern before she stopped dead.
The cold air of the hallway hit her bare legs, reminding her of a very crucial fact.
"Wait," Ren hissed, clutching the black bear fur tighter around her chest. "Stop. Halt. Red light."
Syris paused, looking back over his shoulder. The sheer silk wrap around his waist fluttered, giving Ren a view of his hip bone that threatened to short-circuit her brain again.
"What is it?" Syris asked, his voice low and raspy. "Do your legs fail? I can carry you."
"My legs are fine," Ren lied (they were wobbly). "My dignity, however, is compromised. Syris, I am naked under this rug. I cannot walk through your palace flashing my ankles like a scandalous Victorian ghost. I need clothes."
Syris tilted his head, his amethyst eyes scanning her form. He seemed genuinely confused.
"Why?" he asked. "The fur is warm. And it allows for... easy access. If I need to touch you, there are no barriers."
