Eris went a deep, furious crimson. She shoved the glass away, but the damage was already done. The heat was rising, a slow, inevitable tide that made her pulse thrum in places she didn't want to acknowledge.
"The nightwear," Kristina commanded, signaling the others.
They brought forward a garment that made Eris's eyes widen in disbelief. It was a slip of ice-silver silk, trimmed with lace so fine it looked like hoarfrost.
The straps were mere threads, the neckline plunging nearly to her waist, and the hem barely grazed the tops of her thighs. It was semi-sheer, a suggestion of a dress that left absolutely nothing to the imagination.
Over it, they draped a robe of sheer ice-blue fabric, trimmed at the sleeves and hem with fur as soft as a cloud. It tied at the waist with a single, fragile ribbon of silk.
"You expect me to wear that?" Eris asked, her voice trembling with a mix of indignation and the growing, drug-induced heat in her veins.
