Sense Of Courtesy

Lilia took a quick bath and stepped out, wrapping herself in a robe that was much larger than her. The fabric hung loosely around her small frame, swallowing her in its oversized folds. It felt unusual—too big, too heavy. As she walked toward the mirror, she tugged at the sleeves, which nearly covered her hands. It was only when she finished blow-drying her hair that realization struck her.

This robe belonged to Zethan.

That explained why it nearly reached her ankles, why the scent of it was subtly masculine, laced with a fragrance that clung to her skin—faintly warm, faintly intoxicating. A shiver ran down her spine, but she quickly shook the thought away. It wasn't important.

Right now, she had other things to worry about.