IVY
Vladimir paused. His blue eyes held on me, calm and unreadable. His blond hair looked unstyled, as if he’d run a hand through it in frustration and never bothered to smooth it down.
The room’s soft light licked over his chest. A black robe hung loose from his shoulders, carelessly tied, revealing the hard planes of muscle and the pale scar that trailed down his abdomen. His sleep trousers rode low on his hips, a careless arrogance even in his loungewear.
Vladimir raised an eyebrow as his gaze drifted to the bed lamp and then back to my face.
I turned my eyes away. My heart unclenched slightly. Not completely, but relief warmed the edges; at least it wasn’t the creature from my dream standing in the bathroom.
He watched me warily, his attention flicking again to the small lamp I he
