Chapter 245
Edith
Too easy.
The thought slips through me like a purr. The little lion is so terribly naïve—defensive one moment, pliant the next. He clings to the scraps of comfort I offer like a drowning man to driftwood.
Adorable.
Soon enough, he'll realize I am his lighthouse in the storm. His anchor. His salvation. By then it will be far too late for him to turn away.
I coax him to lie back, his golden head pillowed on my lap. My fingers weave through his hair again and again, gentle strokes that make his lashes flutter shut. How trusting. How sweet. He doesn't even notice the trap closing around him.
Honestly cute, I think, smiling faintly as his breathing steadies into the soft rhythm of sleep.
The truth is undeniable: he's attractive, well-formed, likely well-endowed—every inch of him radiates the arrogance of a predator born into power. But what matters more than flesh or face is what he represents.
Power.
And soon, that power will be mine.
