As the door opened, Freya’s breath hitched slightly. She wasn’t sure why—Rion hadn’t even stepped in yet, and yet she could already feel his presence before she saw him. A faint scent filled the air, crisp and earthy, like fresh lemongrass after a summer storm. It wasn’t overpowering, but it was oddly intoxicating, wrapping itself around her senses. What an unusual scent for a man, she thought. Or anyone, really.
But as the scent seeped into her, tingling every part of her body, it sent a shiver down her spine.
The maids standing beside her bowed low as Rion entered, his tall frame filling the doorway. Freya’s heart skipped a beat as his dark, piercing eyes found her. He didn’t speak—he never seemed to say much—but the way his gaze roamed over her, slow and deliberate, made her feel like
