~Not just a slave~
~Devon~
Harlow stepped in a few minutes later, cheeks burning hot as she clutched the large tray in her hands. My eyes lingered on her for a few seconds, or maybe more, but I couldn't help the growing smile on my lips as she inched closer.
Her silver hair wasn't her most attractive feature, it was one of them, it made her different, and it made me wonder why I suggested dying it in the first place. Her messy silver hair made her different, imperfect, what I love the most.
Harlow slowly placed the tray on my desk and bowed slowly, “your meal, my lord.” From her tone, her eyes and the way hesitation was written all over her face, I could tell she was afraid of me, terrified even. I want the whole world to fear me, tremble at the sound of my voice, but not this petite
