"She has only just begun," he said, his voice low, dangerous. "Let's see how far she'll go to honor her house."
Aryl sat frozen beside Shayla, her eyes wide with a mix of shock and reluctant fascination as her mother's bold display unfolded. The way her hands glided over her body, the way she leaned forward with a seductive smile, teasing the man seated just a few feet away like she belonged to him.
It was surreal.
Her blush deepened, spreading down her neck while her hands gripped her dress tightly. She glanced at Vigg, but his silence offered no comfort.
Vigg's jaw clenched tighter, his hands gripping the bed's edge as he watched his mother kneel and tease herself before Julian—the very man who had mocked him in the great hall, who had flirted so openly with her, and now watched her like a beast circling its prey.
His possessive instincts roared. He wanted to scream. To rise. To drag Shayla away from the bed and shield Aryl with his arms.
But he didn't move.
