ZINA
Zina made a quick escape from Daemon's room and his enrapturing presence. The moment she was out of his chambers, she collapsed against a pillar, her hands clutching at her chest while his last words played over and over again in her head.
"Should you win back your title, then your prize will be me in any form you wish for it."
In any form she wished for it? The only problem with that proposition was the fact that as he spoke those words while barely any space separated them, Zina wished as hell that instead of his breath that stroked her, that his lips would be glued to hers. She wished for him in the form she would want for a lover, and the only thing embarrassing about the thought was the fact that she hadn't been embarrassed at all.
Not even in the least.
