My mouth parts, my chest tightens, and I tear my gaze away, cursing myself.
What is she doing here, alone? Where are her clothes?!
Gods, this is not helping. She’s putting herself in danger, I swear.
I should wake her up before anyone else comes in.
Now.
I clear my throat, making my voice louder, rougher than necessary, and continue to avoid looking right at her.
"What in the name of my gods’ stony feet are you doing here, disrobed?" I growl.
The reaction is instant.
Arlet bolts upright, her unbound hair spilling over her bare back, eyes wide, startled.
For a split second, I don’t recognize her.
Her lips are parted, her face unguarded, her pupils blown wide—so wide they swallow the brown of her irises.
"Turn around!" she screeches.
I whirl immediately, clenching my jaw.
"How long have you been standing there?" she demands, her voice still edged with sleep.
I swallow, the image of smooth, bare skin flashing through my mind. I let it pass, knowing it’s wrong to keep such things near my thoughts.
I am good at ignoring memories. It’s how I’ve survived.
"Hardly a few seconds," I respond, my voice betraying the lack of air in my lungs. “But, again, why are you here?”
I hear movement behind me, fabric rustling as she redresses.
“I went to see Ulla after work, but she was gone. I waited for an hour, but she didn’t return. One of her assistants checked me quickly, then they told me to come here. They said that being nude would help the salt crystals clear out the cloud of negative energy surrounding me," she mutters, quieter now. “No one ever comes at this hour—I thought I was safe.”
Then, after a pause.
"Did you look?"
Her voice is small, unsure.
I exhale slowly, jaw tight.
"No."
Another moment of silence. Then, softer—"You hesitated."
Damn it all.
I scrub a hand over my face, willing my body to calm the hell down.
"You startled me," I admit. That much is true.
She sighs. The tension in the air shifts, but even then, I don’t look directly at her.
“Vann,” she nudges me with her voice.