Theron's hands tightened around her wrists, trying to pull her away, but she held on.
The flicker of surprise on his face hardened and then smoothed into something colder, when she pulled him closer instead.
He released her wrists only to catch her chin between his fingers, firm enough that she had to meet his eyes.
"Then show me, Little Hare," he said quietly, his voice low, dangerous. "Show me what you know about being a mistress."
His cheek trembled, as if uttering the word "mistress" would lower him somehow. Aveline gulped, looking into his eyes, her heart pounding so loud, she was sure he could hear it.
He drew her closer, close enough that his breath brushed her lips, close enough that the heat between them felt like something that could burn.
And that… That gave Aveline pause.
She might have been twenty, but that did not mean she knew how to play this game. Not truly. Not the way women who survived courts and men like him did.
But she had not endured ten years of being broken just to falter now.
So she hummed softly, buying herself a moment, and stepped back.
His head tilted slightly, the corner of his mouth lifting in faint, dangerous amusement as he watched her.
Aveline pressed her lips. So be it.
She lifted her chemise.
The thin, soaked fabric peeled away from her skin, heavy with water as she let it fall from her fingers to the floor with a soft, final sound.
For a heartbeat, nothing moved.
Theron's brows rose… surprised that she had actually done it.
Then his gaze dropped… and stilled.
Whatever he had expected to see… it was not this. There was no softness to admire, no indulgent curve to claim. Only a body worn down to bone and silence.
Her skin was too thin, and ribs too visible. Faint and not-so-faint scars crossed her like a map of everything that had been done to her—old welts, faded cuts, places where the skin had never quite healed right.
His hands clenched at his sides.
Once.
Twice.
The muscles in his arms tightened so hard they trembled. Something in him snapped into silence.
He closed his eyes and drew in a slow, controlled breath.
Behind him, the curtains stirred as a gust of wind slipped through the open window. Candlelight flickered, and shadows shifted along the walls.
Aveline shivered.
The air was not cold, but her body had forgotten what warmth felt like. And when she looked at him… standing there with his eyes closed, his jaw set, his face unreadable… something sharp and angry rose inside her.
Does he find me repulsive? Is this what I have reduced myself to?
No.
No, I shall not let myself be small again.
Not here. Not now.
Being with him, seeing him, dragged up memories of who she had once been; of silks and laughter and a life where she had been allowed to exist without fear.
And after a decade of being treated as less than human… she needed to feel like one again, even if she had to claw that dignity back with her bare hands.
She stepped forward.
Her bare skin pressed against the dark fabric of his tunic, still damp from the bathwater. She rose onto her toes and leaned into him, reaching for his mouth…
But she could only reach his chin.
Her lips brushed there instead. Soft. Tentative. Lingering. Testing. A small, stubborn defiance in the way she stayed there, as if daring him to react.
He opened his eyes and looked down at her. His expression was still unreadable.
"I may not look like much," she said, looking into his eyes, forcing her voice into something lighter, something almost playful, even as her heart pounded hard enough to hurt, "but I do know some things…"
She pressed closer to him, her hands sliding lightly against his chest…not seduction born of skill…
But of will.
Of survival.
And of something deeper she refused to name.
Her fingers that were small, too thin, but stubborn, slid over her own collarbone, then up along his chest, to his throat… to his jaw… to the line of his mouth.
He exhaled slowly.
The warmth of that breath brushed her skin, and for a fleeting second, she forgot how to breathe at all.
His large, warm, and impossibly steady hand moved from her hip to her waist. Slowly.
Aveline sucked in a sharp breath. That feeling… She didn't know what to do with it.
He lifted her as though she weighed nothing. Perhaps she didn't.
Now she was closer to his height. Close enough to see the faint tension in his jaw. Close enough to feel the heat of him.
She leaned forward to finish what he had begun.
Her lips hovered near his…
Close…
Closer…
And just as her heart began to thunder against her ribs… just before she could kiss him… he turned.
Her lips brushed his cheek instead.
A soft, startled sound escaped her.
She tried again, stubborn, reaching for him… but again he shifted, his breath grazing the shell of her ear this time, warm and deliberate.
A frustrated sound slipped from her throat.
She was not someone who stopped trying. But before she could try again… he moved. Again.
In one smooth motion, he turned her and set her down onto the bed, her body sinking into the softness, her breath catching in surprise.
Before she could rise, he brushed her hair aside.
His hand hovered over her back.
Then slowly… it lowered.
Tracing. Following the faint ridges that marked her skin… over the silent evidence of years she did not speak of.
Her fingers clenched in the sheets.
Shame flickered… then something else.
Something warmer. Softer. Almost frightening in how unfamiliar it felt.
His touch did not hurt. His touch… lingered. It reminded her she was not just something to be used.
She turned quickly, too quickly, and before he could react, she climbed into his space, straddling him as he sat on the bed.
Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, holding on.
His eyes, which were slightly reddened now, met hers. And then… that dangerous curve of his lips returned.
Amusement.
Challenge.
Something darker beneath it.
She leaned in again, determined, her lips parting slightly. She would not be the one who hesitated. But his fingers caught her chin once more, halting her just short of his lips.
"Still trying to kiss me?" he asked, his voice low, dangerously so.
Aveline's lashes fluttered. "I—"
Before she could finish, his finger slipped between her lips.
A soft, startled sound broke from her throat. "Ahn—"
He leaned closer, his breath warm against her skin, his gaze fixed on her as he pressed his finger lightly against the roof of her mouth, his thumb brushing the corner of her lips.
Aveline's head fell back.
Her eyes fluttered shut.
That feeling… This strange, warm, unfamiliar feeling… sent a shiver racing down her spine.
Her fingers tightened against his shoulders without her realizing it, her breath catching somewhere between a gasp and something softer. She had forgotten to breathe.
His touch shifted, slow and deliberate, as he gently parted her lips further, his finger grazing the sensitive softness within before withdrawing just enough to trace the curve of her lower lip.
Heat unfurled through her chest, spreading outward, making her pulse pound harder, faster.
What… is this?
Her heart hammered wildly as she leaned toward him again, drawn by that warmth, by him… and by something inside her she didn't understand yet.