Especially since Bastian had been nothing but an asshole since I arrived.
“Deal with—” Bastian stopped himself, his chin jutting down and back as a low rumble echoed out of his chest. His jaw muscles were so tense, I rolled my eyes.
Ugh, he really needed to?—
But before I could even finish my thought, Bastian reached for the front of the shirt, grabbing a fistful of the fabric, and then, in one clean yank, which sent me stumbling into the countertop, he tore the thing off me.
I gasped, reflexively covering myself as Bastian tossed the ruined tee into the sink full of dirty dishes and brown water. The furious roar that emanated from his chest didn’t quit. I glared up at him like he’d lost his goddamn mind.
Because heabsolutelyhad.
It didn’t escape my notice that Ma was also looking on in utter shock.
I was left standing there in nothing but my jeans and a bra. Thankfully, my old, comfortable bras were also in desperate need of a wash, so I was wearing a black one, which—unfortunately, given the timing—made my boobs look amazing. It perked them up expertly, giving me cleavage, no easy feat, considering I wasn't exactly well endowed in that area.
My blood was boiling, rage simmering under my skin, and to make matters worse, Bastian took offhisshirt, revealing his infuriatingly sculpted chest, and held it out toward me.
“Here.” He thrust the shirt toward me, a triumphant smirk on his face that I very much wanted to smack right off.
“You think I’m going to wearthat?” I asked, my brows up and my tone struggling to remain anything akin to level.
Behind him, Ma and Nina were both watching with wide eyes, neither daring to interrupt what was going on.
He raised his eyebrows pointedly, as if to say I didn't have many other options. Not only was the challenge obvious, but I could also see just how strongly Bastian believed I was going to take the shirt from him.
Only I was stubborn, painfullyso.
There was no way in hell I was going to bow down to Bastian’s demands because he’d been grumpy and growly and just expected me to obey him. Maybe Emmeline would have done that, but Rowan sure as fuck wouldn't.
Straightening, I looked him dead in the eye, planting my hands on my hips. “Looks like I need to go grab another shirt, then,” I said, a purposeful, performative smile spreading across my face.
The momentary panic that filled Bastian’s eyes when it dawned on him what I was about to do was beautiful. I allowed myself to enjoy it a moment longer before he began to open his mouth again, and I knew it was time to go. Turning on my heel, I strode out of the kitchen and into the dining hall, perfectly okay with the idea that the room was about to get an eyeful.
I mean, it was a bra. Bikinis hardly covered as much as this one did.
The moment I walked through the door, the babble of conversation quieted significantly. It really shouldn't have been weird. Dragons were naked all the time. Yet, there were so many eyes on me as I walked through the room that the fury-fueled confidence I’d been running on began to falter.
The looks I was getting were surprised, sure, but then I realized they were also filled with something that I hatedto be on the receiving end of: pity. Why would people be staring at me like I was some lost lamb or something? They had no reason to be?—
My scars.
I’d actually forgotten about them because I was so furious with Bastian, but my dragon fire scars were on full display with my shirt off like this. That was why people were really staring. Boobs were nothing new around here, but dragon fire marks etched into skin?
Nowthatwas something to see.
Ugh, dammit. I need a fucking shirt.
I searched the room for any sign of a familiar face, one I might be able to use to barter my way into a new outfit. Hell, even if it was Griffin again, I’d go for it. I didn’t give a shit about pissing off Bastian. While I knew I had nothing to be ashamed of, and I had no problem being scantily clad, I was done being gawked at. I wasn’t a tourist attraction.
Then my gaze landed on a pair of familiar dragons—Orsen and, more importantly, Nix.
Bingo.
Walking over to him and doing my best to act like I didn’t have a care in the world, I placed one hand on the dining table and leaned over, clearing my throat to draw his attention to my face.
Nix’s eyes were firmly on my breasts, his mouth hanging open almost comically. I wanted to roll my eyes, but I needed a favor, so I decided going with a little sugar over vinegar would be the better option.
“Nix?” I asked sweetly.
