Olivia Martins

“Where the fuck do you think you're going?” Caspian growled, his voice low and dangerous.

I backed up a step, the warmth of his chest still lingering in the robe I wore. “I just... I need my clothes,” I said, voice quiet but firm.

His eyes didn’t leave mine. “I’ll have someone bring you some.”

My fingers tightened on the edge of the fabric. “So what—am I your prisoner now?”

Caspian stepped forward again, ...