I BUNGLE THE REMAINING PRESENTATIONS, feigning a slight migraine due to the use of magic. It's an expected excuse—because everyone under the rule of a Witch-Queen knows that casting takes its toll. I get off easy on that one. The truth is, there is no greater turn-on than denial. And I have been denied like what...five times already? And my entire teenage life before that? But who's counting.
I hurry out the throne room before Lord Viridian's masterful gaze has a chance to put two and two together concerning his Royal Majesty, and her Handmaiden.
An applause follows me out, but the thrumming in my ears is louder.
I find nothing hotter than the lovely young woman by my side, who seems as whipped wet as I feel—she expertly hides hers in silence, catching her lower lip between her teeth. And if I don't touch her in the next three minutes, the next storm I'm gonna be summoning would be red and volcanic.
