Still Prince Harad's POV
Herod barely has his fist on the door before it swings open.
In front of us stands Taylor, wearing prudish pajamas and smiling so broadly that I almost burst out laughing. But as I look closer, I notice that the first buttons are undone, revealing much of her creamy breasts.
Nausea rises within me. This is a far cry from the pathetic victim of violence I brought here yesterday.
“Sir,” she greeted us as she fixed her eyes on me. Her lips held a sensual smile, and she pushed her breasts forward, which seemed to hold a promise. I scowled, what is this now?
But finally taking the time to look at the other visitor, she sees Herod and is puzzled by the resemblance. This was not new to us; Herod and I were often confronted with such reactions.
“Don't worry, I was th
