Leila
Fear coiled, tight as a fist. I hugged my knees, water sloshing over the sides. A Lycan Princess, reduced to this—afraid of a man who'd never hurt me, pining for decency like it was a luxury. My husband hated me. His mistress poisoned my tonic. And I'd just thrown myself at the one person who'd ever shown me a scrap of respect.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Tears came then, silent at first, then loud, ragged sobs that shook my body. I buried my face in my knees, the water muffling the sound.
The door creaked. "Leila?"
I froze. He was back.
"Leila, are you—" He stopped, and I heard the rustle of fabric, like he was hesitating. "I heard crying."
I looked up. He was standing in the doorway, silhouetted against the light, one hand on the frame. He wanted to come in, I could
