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The way his forearms shifted beneath his sleeves.

The way they corded when he removed his shirt.

My touch trailed lower. My body already pulsing deep.

His hands.

The way they wrapped around mine in the training room.

Steady.

Patient.

Careful.

Strong enough to protect me.

He’d kill a man, wouldn’t he?

Without hesitation.

Without remorse.

And somehow that should’ve frightened me. But it didn’t. No. That thought had the opposite effect.

He’d never let anyone get to me.

Never let anyone hurt me ever… ever again.

I parted my legs and slipped my fingers inside. Dropping my head forward.

Oh, God.

My body obeyed instantly. Like it already belonged to him. I shouldn’t be doing this. Shouldn’t be wanting him so much. I braced my hand against the shower and rubbed around and around and around, imagining those hands on me. Imaging they were his.

No.

I stopped.

I shouldn’t think about him like that. He heard me. Every humiliating second of it. And somehow that wasn’t the part that terrified me. What did, was that somehow he’d known exactly what last night meant. Heat rushed to my cheeks. How was I ever going to face him after that?

I pulled my hand away, and moved away from the wall. That thought making me colder than I was before. I washed, then dried, pulling on something warm. I had to get myself together.

He.

He was out there.

Vivienne. She’d not come to see if I was safe… not from Alaric at least—not really. She wanted to make sure I was safe from him… the Clove man. She knew how much danger I was in.

I made for the bedroom door and opened it.

I had to be more careful.

I had to stay close to Alaric.

He’d never let anyone near me.

He’d keep me safe.