Damien watched me like a man trying not to destroy his own self-control.
Which, honestly, should have concerned me more than it did.
Instead, I sat cross-legged in the middle of his enormous bed wearing his shirt while his terrifyingly attractive gaze dragged slowly over bare legs and tangled hair like he was committing every detail to memory.
Roman cleared his throat loudly.
Nothing happened.
Damien didn’t even blink.
Elara looked between us and whispered dramatically, “This is better than television.”
I grabbed the nearest pillow and threw it at her.
She caught it with an evil grin.
“You’re making it worse,” I informed her.
“No,” she corrected. “Your chemistry is making it worse.”
Roman nodded once like this was an objective fact.
Traitors. Every single one of them.
Damien f
