Esme — POV
A hand cupped my cheek—cold fingers warmed by heat—and I leaned into the touch, eyes fluttering open at the sound of a deep, masculine voice.
"Lady Esme."
I caught a glimpse of his handsome face, a stray lock of black hair falling over his forehead. His skin glistened with sweat, his shirt clinging to his torso, outlining every contour of his abs. He looked like he had just finished training… and then he smirked.
"Are you done ogling me, Lady Esme?"
"Y-Your Majesty, I…" I stammered, quickly grabbing a bedsheet to shield myself. With one hand, I reached for a shawl, wrapping it around my shoulders before letting the sheet fall. I stumbled ungracefully out of the bed, painfully aware that his eyes followed my every move.
"Lady Esme." His voice held a trace of amusement as I met his gaze.
"Your Majesty," I whispered.
"You asked me something last night," he said quietly.
I nodded slowly, though my head throbbed dully. The memory was foggy.
