AMORA’S POV;
Stepping out of the steaming shower, I felt a wave of warmth rush over my skin, but it wasn’t just the hot water that had done it. There was something about this place—a mix of opulence and comfort, danger and safety—that sent my senses spiraling. The bathroom was still thick with mist, the scent of vanilla and sweet lemon from the shower swirling around me like an invisible embrace, intoxicating and calming all at once. It was as though the steam had washed away not just the grime from my skin but the tension that had wound itself into the very fabric of my bones.
My eyes landed on the bed. There, neatly folded, were clothes—his clothes. I stood for a moment, dripping water onto the floor, staring at the garments as if they held the answers to all the questions swirling in
