Olivia Martins
“Where the f**k do you think you're going?” Caspian growled, his voice low and dangerous.
I backed up a step, the warmth of his chest still lingering in the robe I wore. “I just... I need my clothes,” I said, voice quiet but firm.
His eyes didn’t leave mine. “I’ll have someone bring you some.”
My fingers tightened on the edge of the fabric. “So what, am I your prisoner now?”
Caspian stepped forward again, closing the space between us. I could feel the heat radiating from his bare skin and could see the sharp lines of his jaw tighten as he stared down at me.
“You're mine,” he said, low and certain. “And you always will be.”
The air grew heavier.
He wasn’t touching me, but I felt caged. Not by his arms, by the bond pulsing between us, by the memories in his eyes, by t
