CLARE – POV
Lucas gave a half-smile, still holding my hair in that iron vice of his fingers.
"My apologies, Father," he said with mock grace. "I forgot... you like your meals fully undressed and seated properly before the feast begins."
Undressed?
That word hit me like a fist in the gut.
My stomach twisted.
My skin crawled.
Apparently, that ritual started with stripping the offering bare.
Like I was some sacrificial lamb laid out for gods long dead and forgotten.
I wasn't trembling anymore—my body had gone cold.Still.
And then he looked at me—really looked at me—with that same gleam in his eye people get when they're peeling back the wrapper of their favorite candy. Except this time, I was the candy.
His voice dipped into something darker. "We wouldn't want to upset the host," he purred.
So that was it, then?
That was the etiquette?
