His angel was peeking in at him from across the way and he smirked, turning to find her ducking her head, shifting on her feet nervously, adorned in his clothing.
“Uh, Lucius—”
“Luce,” he corrected her again.
“Luce.” Filled with nerves, her voice was melodic to him.
He smirked, waving her over to the bed.
She shifted again, all nerves, raking her hand through her slowly drying blonde hair. “It’s still early,” he rumbled, patting the bedding beside himself.
She took a seat on the very edge. Stiff, nervous—he knew what he’d do if the contract weren’t in play. Grab her arm, drag her down to him, push her small body down into the bedding—he averted his gaze from her to the ceiling, deciding what he’d do now. He couldn’t touch her, not without full consent, so
