Dakor
The door to my chambers slammed open with enough force to rattle the iron hinges. I didn’t need to turn from where I stood by the fireplace to know it was Elliot. Only he possessed both the audacity and the death wish required to enter my private quarters without permission.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” His voice cut through the silence like a blade, sharp with barely contained fury.
I reached for my shirt from the chair beside me, pulling it over my head with deliberate slowness. The fabric settled against my scarred skin as I finally turned to face him. Elliot stood in the doorway, his usual composed demeanor replaced by something raw and dangerous, it made me smirk.
Oh how I just love to rattle him. It was the only time I got to see a glimpse of the man I used to know.
