"Not yet."
Those two damned words have haunted me all day.
As if despising that I'd turned her down last night wasn't enough, Valka has made it her mission to drive me insane, reminding me of that decision every time she walks past wearing something she has no business wearing.
First, it was breakfast. She waltzed in wrapped in a sheer black shift that hid absolutely nothing. The guards had to turn away or lose their eyes, because I would've torn them out myself if they so much as blinked twice in her direction.
And when I didn't stop glaring at her dress, wondering what hellhole she'd dragged it out of, she had the audacity to blink up at me, all wide-eyed innocence, and ask if I was feeling alright.
Alright.
