POV RUBY
I emerged from the bathroom with trembling legs, wrapped in the cream-colored silk robe that felt like a sinful caress on my still-damp skin. Nevan's master bedroom was an extension of his own personality: vast, dark, and decorated with an elegance that bordered on military. The shadows of the velvet curtains were cast over the four-poster bed, and the only sound was the crackling of the wood in the black marble fireplace.
He stood there, next to the bay window, looking out over the mansion's grounds with a cut-glass goblet in his hand. He was no longer wearing the silk shirt; he had left it open, revealing the white bandage I had placed over his wound, now slightly stained with red. Hearing my footsteps, he turned with the slowness of a predator who knows his prey has nowhere t
