Thane
“Come on, Lyric, talk to me.”
My mate huffs and rolls her eyes. She’s sitting at the dresser in our bedroom, brushing her long hair. When I got to our suite, Lyric had showered and dressed in a long nightdress of white and silk. It shows enough cleavage to have me drooling and sticks to her body like a second skin. I inwardly groan because my body is vibrating with need, need for her.
I watch as Lyric braids her hair over her shoulder and ties it off at the end.
“I know you’re angry with me, baby. I am trying to fix it, I promise.”
Angry is not the word for what Lyric was when I told her The Witch had escaped. Goddess, I thought the castle would crumble under the weight of her temper tantrum!
“I’m not angry with you, Thane.” Turning in her seat, Lyric faces me. “I know what hap
