"I told you," he said, voice rough velvet, "the next time I touched you…"
Her breath hitched.
"…it would be in a bed."
She swallowed. "Then stop stalling, Frostbite."
That broke something. Aleksander moved, not fast but hungry. He backed her toward the bed, hands on her waist, mouth at her jaw. He didn't kiss her like a promise. He kissed her like a need. A vow. A warning. Lila gasped when the backs of her knees hit the edge of the platform. He lifted her easily, without strain, and laid her down on the pelts as if she were something precious and volatile at once. Then he stood over her, looking like sin carved from winter. His tunic came off slowly and unhurriedly. Beneath it, his chest was a map of scars, some faded, some fresh. His body was war-forged, all power and lean grace, but
