[ZEPH'S POV]

A sharp knock on my door startled me out of my thoughts. My hour was up. I had spent it pacing the room, the scent of Damian's power a faint but ever-present reminder of my new reality.

The clothes he had promised sat on the bed—a sleek, form-fitting black dress made of a soft, thin material that seemed to cling to every curve. It felt both luxurious and utterly foreign. I was used to Master Alaric's fine fabrics and tailored clothes; this was a uniform for a prized object, ...