I turned around with the slow, deliberate grace of a woman who knew exactly how much damage she was doing. The midnight-blue silk of the dress didn't just touch my skin; it clung to it like a lover's sweat. Varg stood in the doorway, a massive, obsidian wall of pure, unadulterated Alpha. His suit was expensive, but it couldn't hide the predator beneath.
He didn't just look at me; he stripped me with a gaze that felt like a physical violation, starting at my unbranded neck and dragging his eyes down over the silk-covered curves of my body.
It was a slow, torturous appraisal, a brand without fire that left me burning in his wake.
He scrutinized every inch: the blood-red stain on my lips, the sharp, elegant bridge of my nose, and finally, he dived into the silver-grey of my eyes, searching for those fractured blue flecks that marked me as his "freak." My hair, under Ivy's hands, was a shimmering mantle of moonlight, but his eyes were focused on the raw skin beneath it.
