Elara
“Aren’t you going to wash my stained trousers, cleaner?”
My eyes widened at Asher’s words. It wasn’t even the request itself that bothered me—I would have happily done it had he asked nicely and sincerely—it was the blatant condescension in this tone.
I knew exactly what this was: an attempt to punch down at me. And I wasn’t having it.
“I’m not going to wash your trousers, Asher,” I said with a bitter laugh, crossing my arms across my chest.
He c****d his head and gave me an innocent look that was clearly a facade. “Why not?” he practically purred.
“Oh, I don’t know.” I shrugged one shoulder and tapped my chin with my index finger. “Oh, I know! Maybe it’s because you’ve never once shown me the respect I deserve as your Luna? And every interaction we have is ov
