The morning light filtered through Freya’s chamber as Mila and Ellen bustled around her, their hands gentle yet efficient as they helped her into a steaming bath.
The warm water soothed her aching body, but it couldn’t quiet the storm in her mind.
Rion’s touch replayed in vivid detail—his hands claiming her, his lips searing her skin, his dark voice branding her as his. His thick c*ck in her…
Her cheeks burned red as she sank deeper into the tub, the memory of his chiseled body pressing against hers igniting a hunger she couldn’t suppress.
She wanted more—more of him, more of that wild, consuming fire—and the ache between her thighs pulsed with every thought of him.
Dressed in a flowing gown of deep blue, Freya sat at breakfast, Mila hovering nearby with painkillers for her sorenes
